10. London
It was way past seven.
According to my phone, it was eight twenty. I’d texted Murray right before seven, lying about needing some extra time to make sure I had everything.
I’d just needed a little more time to myself to process.
Spending the afternoon apart from Murray so I could pack had given me time to reflect on the magnitude of our actions. Nee and Ramsay’s response hadn’t helped my worries.
Maybe Murray and I had just done the stupidest thing in the world.
But I guess people did stupid things when they felt as desperate as we did.
When I left Nick, he’d already erased so many of my belongings. I’d had a huge record collection back in New York because I loved listening to music on an actual record player. Something I apparently had in common with Murray.
Since I couldn’t have my records and I couldn’t afford the kind of decent record player and sound system Murray obviously had, I’d bought a Bluetooth speaker that connected to my phone because I streamed all my music now. It seemed the safest way not to lose all the music I collected.
While I might not have records, I had a few knickknacks and books that I’d bought over the last six months since Taran had moved out.
My chest squeezed as I gazed into the house that had become my refuge these past sixteen months.
Where I trauma-bonded with Taran and felt less alone.
We’d also had our fair share of horror here last year when we were held at gunpoint in the living room and a man bled out on the carpet, which had obviously been replaced since.
Funny how, despite how significant that event was, it didn’t wipe out all the other memories I’d made here.
I was afraid to leave.
Afraid of what the future truly held for me in Murray Shaw’s house as his wife.
While I was ninety-nine percent sure I could trust Murray, there would always be that little one percent of doubt and fear I couldn’t shake until I’d spent enough time with the guy.
Though, from the way he treated me like glass that was about to shatter, I was almost certain I’d have to worry more about his ability to pretend to be my loving husband than him ever violating my personal space.
With a heavy sigh filled with a multitude of concerns, I stepped backward out of the bungalow door, pulling it shut. My fingers trembled as I locked it and turned down the path toward my SUV.
This was it.
The start of my new life.
Again.
The tide gently caressed the coast as twilight cast Murray’s house in its navy and orange glow.
It had taken me a little while to get used to how long daylight lasted on the island during the spring and summer months.
They were shorter during winter, which could be difficult, a little depressing after a while, so I preferred the longer days.
Murray appeared around the side of the house, lit up by my headlights as I pulled to a stop. He must have been waiting for me. As I shut off the engine, he walked to the driver’s side to open the door for me.
“Hey,” I greeted breathlessly as I got out. The butterflies in my belly rioted again.
Murray glanced into the back of the SUV where I’d flattened the seats to get my two suitcases in.
I’d arrived in Scotland eighteen months ago with barely any luggage, but I quickly had to buy island-appropriate clothing and shoes.
My parents had cut me off when I decided to train to be a chef rather than go to college.
However, they couldn’t cut me off from my trust fund, and while I’d used some of it to put myself through culinary school, I’d been frugal with the rest of it.
Nick hadn’t even known I still had any money left.
Nee had offered me a ridiculous bloated salary to work at the B and B, and I’d rejected it until she came to me with something that didn’t make me feel like I was taking advantage.
I had what was left in my trust fund to cover me in an emergency and I’d dipped into it to rebuild my wardrobe for life on Glenvulin.
“This everything?” Murray asked.
“Almost. I’ll need to go back after work tomorrow to pick up a couple of boxes.”
Murray’s brows drew together at that, but he didn’t respond other than to open the trunk (or boot as the Scots called it) and haul out my luggage.
“I can get the other …” I gaped after him as he easily carried both suitcases toward the house. “Or not.” Snorting to myself, I closed the trunk, grabbed my purse, and locked up the car.
The sound of the water was lovely and soothing, and a little bubble of excitement popped inside me at the realization this beautiful house would be my home for the foreseeable future.
Murray was waiting for me in the huge entrance hall, my suitcases at his side.
He looked exhausted and a bit strained.
Remembering he said he’d contact his lawyer today about the marriage certificate, I asked as I closed the door behind me, “How did the call with your lawyer go?”
He gave me a grim nod. “Jill is cut off. She called me an hour after my solicitor contacted her solicitor to let them know. Jill screeched and threatened me and basically had an adult-sized temper tantrum.”
Disgust at his ex curled my lip. “Murray, I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
“It’s Kelly I’m worried about. Jill said she’s applying for sole custody.”
“Not going to happen,” I reassured him. “You’ll get Kelly away from her before that ever happens.”
“I just …” A shuddering sigh rattled out of him, and it hurt to see such a big, capable, good man so vulnerable. “I hate that I can’t do anything to get Kelly out of there faster.”
“I know.” Fear for a girl I barely knew shivered through me. I knew what it was like to be trapped in a home with an abuser. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, let alone an innocent child. I wished there was something I could do. “I’m sorry.”
Murray’s expression softened. “Well … let’s get you settled in. A proper tour?”
“I’d like that.” I bent down to unlace my boots, and an awkward silence fell between us as the reality of our situation kicked in.
“We could start with the mudroom.” Murray gestured to my boots.
“Sure.” I grabbed them up in my hands. “Lead the way.”
The mudroom was down the corridor on the left side of the entrance hall. It was at the opposite end of the house and acted as a laundry as well.
“There’s a second utility room upstairs to accommodate the bedrooms on that level,” Murray explained as I put my boots on a shoe bench beside his muddy work boots. Seeing them together made those butterflies riot in my stomach again.
I shrugged out of my rain jacket and hung it up next to his jackets too.
There was a pink raincoat, a girl’s blue thermal coat, and a cute green dress coat, with a couple of scarves.
Seeing Kelly’s things made me feel melancholy for father and daughter.
And strangely bonded to Kelly without really knowing her.
Not only did I understand what it was like to live in a house with someone who scared me, I’d grown up with parents who didn’t know how to love me.
It sounded like Jill was the same, just in a different way.
My parents thought their lives as surgeons was the priority always.
Their patients were their priority. And while there was a part of me that was proud of the lives they’d saved, I couldn’t forgive them for being awful parents.
Their egos got in the way of loving and supporting me.
Frankly, they should never have had a child.
I think they both realized that quickly.
But instead of stepping up to their responsibilities, they’d fobbed me off on nannies and tutors.
When Tierney and I became friends and I saw how successful people could still be loving, involved parents the way the Silvers were, my resentment toward mine only grew.
But I didn’t want it to turn me bitter and ugly, so I’d embraced the Silvers as pseudo parents.
They’d even jokingly, but not so jokingly, designated a guest room in the house to me.
I’d stayed in that bedroom more times than my own.
Losing Maura and Gordon had been almost as hard on me as it had been on Nee.
“You all right?”
I shook myself out of my memories and turned to face Murray. His green eyes burned with intensity. A flush of attraction heated my cheeks, and I hoped he took the sudden rosiness as embarrassment for being caught woolgathering. “I’m good. Where to next?”
The bedroom off the mudroom was huge, painted in a warm pale pink and definitely Kelly’s. Her large bed had a green comforter, a ton of pink and green cushions, and star fairy lights woven through the wrought iron spindles of the headboard.
“I keep the fairy lights on even when she’s not here.” Murray shrugged sheepishly. “When she was ten, just before Jill and I separated, Jill told her she was too big for a nightlight and she took it away.”
Charming.
“I could tell Kel was still afraid to sleep in the dark, and it’s very dark here at night without any streetlights.
So, I wound those stars into the headboard, and I told Kel that she had to keep them on at night because …
because when she dreamt, her dreams would be captured in them so she’d never forget them.
But only if they were lit. That way she had an excuse for keeping the lights on.
Jill said I was filling Kelly’s head with nonsense.
But what’s the point of life without dreams, eh?
Dreaming is something that makes the tragedy of our short lives worthwhile. No?”
I stared up at this man in wonder, in awe of him. “Murray,” I whispered, immensely touched by his poetic words.
He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by my response. “Anyway, it means I can’t switch the fairy lights off. Kelly thinks if I switch them off, her dreams will be lost. So … they stay on.”
The truth was he could switch them off and Kelly wouldn’t know. But he didn’t. He kept them on for her.
No wonder they asked this man to tell children fairy tales at the Highlands Games here on the island every two years.
An overwhelming surge of emotion crashed over me, and I struggled to hold back the tears. I couldn’t speak as I gazed around the room, searching for distraction. Because I hated that such a devoted father was separated from his child. I hated it for him.
A door on the far wall was halfway open, revealing a bathroom. Kelly had her own bathroom.
Murray must have seen where my gaze went. “She chose her own tile. Did you know there’s such a thing as pink onyx tile?”
“Seriously?”
“Do you want to see?”
“Would … Kelly mind?”
“Not at all.” Murray crossed the plush pink carpet and I followed him, taking in her many bookshelves filled to the brim.
She had a TV and a little tabletop record player with her own collection of vinyl.
A large closet ran the whole length of the wall opposite the bathroom, presumably filled with clothing.
Murray hit a light switch outside the bathroom, and it lit up.
I gasped.
Large slabs of pink and white onyx covered the floor and walls.
If Murray hadn’t informed me otherwise, I’d have thought it was marble.
There was a toilet, a sink, and a huge walk-in shower.
Brass faucets and fixtures gleamed against the onyx.
It was the height of luxury, and it might have been chosen by Kelly when she was a preteen, but it would please any pink-loving adult.
Including me.
“It’s stunning.”
“She did good. You’d think it would be garish, but it’s not.”
“She’s a lucky girl,” I murmured.
Murray’s expression tightened. “Doesn’t feel that way right now.”
Even though he’d been giving off Don’t touch vibes since the moment I arrived, I couldn’t help but reach out to squeeze his strong forearm. “You’ll get her back.”
He didn’t say anything, so I stepped out of the bathroom and gestured to her beautiful space. “Soon she’ll be back in this gorgeous bedroom, safe and sound, right where she belongs.”
Behind me, Murray murmured darkly, “Let’s hope so.”
The next stop on the tour was the TV room off the entrance hall. Murray called it the snug. I thought the “snug” was in desperate need of some cozy décor. It was literally a sectional sofa in a room facing a large-screen TV. There were blinds at the window but no curtains to soften it.
As we stepped back into the entrance hall, he cleared his throat and gestured to the door closest to the patio doors. “That’s my bedroom.”
He did not offer to show me inside. Instead, he pointed to the door down from it, near the front entrance and opposite the staircase.
“This is a main guest room with en suite. But there are three more bedrooms upstairs, one of which has an en suite. So, it’s up to you if you want to stay in one of those or …
in here.” He pushed open the door, and I tentatively followed him inside.
I already knew what my answer would be. I didn’t want to sleep on the other side of the wall to Murray. That was just masochistic.
My mind raced with an excuse for staying upstairs. “I get pretty thirsty at night so it might be nice to be on the same level as the kitchen.”
Was it just my imagination or did Murray look relieved by my response? “Okay, good, I’ll show you upstairs.” He was already brushing past me to grab my suitcases.
“I can take one.”
“Nonsense.” Murray promptly carried both suitcases up the stairs at a speed that was both impressive and alarming.
My new husband couldn’t make it more obvious that he wanted me living as far from him as possible.
This was starting off so well.