17. London
“Are you hungry?” I asked Kelly, trying not to worry about Murray any more than I already was.
His cousin appeared deeply concerned about something, and a problem with the business that required him waiting outside the house at this time of night was the last thing Murray needed.
I was determined to try to be as helpful as possible with Kelly, even though she was giving me serious “back off” vibes. Every interaction I’d had with her before I married her father had been positive.
Not so much now.
But there was no way this kid didn’t go through what she just went through without feeling rage. A rage that had probably been quietly building for months, maybe even years. And I understood that. I went through a resentment-fueled rebellious phase as a teenager because of my parents.
Kelly shrugged as I followed her into the kitchen. “I dunno.” She started opening cupboards and then glanced back at me. “Is this your stuff?”
The question was asked with contempt. I took a deep breath. “What stuff?”
“This granola crap?”
“Yeah, that’s mine. Do you want some? I have yogurt in the fridge. It’s yummy with raspberries and a drizzle of honey over the top.”
“Yummy?” She snorted and slammed the cupboard. “I’m allergic to berries. Dad will make me French toast.”
“You know, I make amazing French toast.”
“I like Dad’s.”
“I’m a chef,” I reminded her.
Kelly glared. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was way too worn out for a fourteen-year-old. “I said I like Dad’s. Are you deaf?”
“Kel.” Murray walked into the kitchen. “I know you’ve been through the ringer, m’eudail, but please watch how you’re speaking to people.”
Tears immediately filled her eyes, and she jerked her head away so we wouldn’t see.
Shit.
Murray’s expression tightened. “Kel, my darling …”
She choked back a sob.
“Murray, why don’t you make Kelly her French toast and I’ll head to bed.” I gave him a pointed look, so he’d know I wasn’t abandoning them. I was just giving them space. “I have to be up early for work.”
He seemed torn but eventually gave me an understanding nod. “Okay. Good night. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll be just across the hall,” I reiterated.
Kelly’s head whipped to me. She sniffed back her tears, her voice wobbly around the question, “Aren’t you in Dad’s room?”
Oh boy.
Murray rubbed a hand over his beard, the bristles sounding loud in the awkward silence.
“Uh … we’re taking this whole situation slowly.
So London has her own room in the house.
But what happens in mine and London’s relationship, and in our family”—he gestured to all three of us—“is private, Kelly. Do you understand?”
“I’m not an idiot.” Her shoulders slumped, her expression softening a little. “No one can find out that you’re not really together. But when I saw London at the police station holding your hand, I thought maybe you were together for real and you hadn’t told me.”
Murray grimaced. “M’eudail, this is so delicate, and I feel terrible after everything you’ve gone through with your mum … I can’t …”
“You can’t say anything either way.” She leaned on the island, glancing between us.
“I get that you did this to get Mum out of our lives, but I’ll pretend it’s real, okay?
” Kelly looked straight at me, her eyes narrowing.
“But no offense, I don’t need you to pretend to be, like, a stepmum to me.
I’ve got my dad and my nana and that’s all I need. ”
“Kelly—”
I waved off Murray’s coming reprimand, even though I ached a little with her rejection. “I totally get it. I get it more than you’ll ever know. I hope you sleep well. I’ll see you both in the morning.” With that I strode out and down the hall toward my room.
“London.”
I stopped, turning around to find Murray had followed me out. He searched my face with frantic intensity but didn’t seem to know what else to say.
It was then I remembered Fraser. “Is everything okay with the business?”
“Just a wee problem that needs to be dealt with first thing in the morning.”
“Well, I’m here if you ever need to talk or vent.
” I gestured back to the kitchen and lowered my voice.
“And don’t worry about me and Kelly. She gets to feel what she’s feeling right now, and I meant what I said.
I understand. So, I know when to give her space and when not to, okay? It’ll all be good.”
Murray shook his head, expression bleak. “I should never have dragged you into this.”
Ignoring the flare of hurt at his words, I merely shrugged. “Hey, I’m the one who proposed to you, remember.”
“London—”
“Go make your daughter French toast. I’ll be fine. Good night.” I turned and strode into the room, closing the door softly behind me.
I listened as Murray’s footsteps faded in the opposite direction.
Part of me knew one of the more minor reasons I’d suggested marriage to Murray was because I was lonely in Taran’s bungalow all by myself. But right now, even though it was incredibly selfish considering what Kelly had just gone through, I was lonelier than ever. So lonely I wanted to run away.
Yet I’d promised to be there for this father and daughter, and I was going to suck it up and do just that.
I tried to drown out my worries with activities.
Returning texts from Nee, Taran, and Cammie.
Showering, blow-drying my hair, and then laying out a puzzle on the small foldable table I found in another guest room.
The room I’d chosen had a double window looking out toward the side of the house with views of the fields and driveway.
The wall the headboard was situated against was painted a soothing green.
It was spacious—the king bed with its modern, low-profile headboard barely taking up room.
The en suite was all white and gold quartz tile with black fittings and accessories, including a shower screen with black trim.
It was fresh and clearly unused. Murray had told me whenever his mom stayed with them, she slept in the guest room down the hall. I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was invading their space, so I’d chosen this room because no one else seemed to have any prior claim on it.
Sitting down to my puzzle, I stared around the room for a few minutes, trying not to give into how lost I felt.
This was an opportunity to help two people who needed it.
Murray and Kelly had been through so much already, and I wanted life to be better for them.
So all right, I was attracted to Murray, and he only saw me as a friend.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t be a great friend to him.
And Kelly … before all this, I think she used to think I was cool.
I was from a different country, and I was eleven years younger than her father, so I was cooler than he was by default.
Her prior feelings about me might not have been strong, but they were something to build toward.
She didn’t trust me, and I understood that.
I had to earn her trust, and I aimed to.
My phone vibrated on the bedside table, and I maneuvered around my puzzle carefully because I’d already pieced together a third of it (it was a fairy forest image, a gift from Nee for Christmas) to answer it.
The sight of the unknown caller ID on the screen filled me with instant dread.
Call it overreacting, but my Spidey senses tingled violently. I sent the call to voicemail and waited with mounting dread for him to leave one.
Because it had to be Nick.
I’d been married to Murray for two weeks and every day I’d been waiting for Nick to find out and then reach out to threaten me.
Instead of a voicemail, a message flashed on the screen. And another. And another. And another. And another.
All from a number I didn’t have saved on my phone.
You think you don’t belong to me because you married one of those morons from Bumfuck Island?
He thinks he can touch what’s mine?
He touches you again and you’re both dead.
Maybe I’ll come for his daughter first.
Don’t get comfortable. Someone will be investigating this sham of a fucking marriage very soon.
Trembling with the rush of adrenaline that soared through my blood, I stumbled back onto the bed, my fingers hovering over the screen.
The instant urge to call Nee was strangled by my pride.
I’d promised myself that I would deal with Nick.
Nee was pregnant and didn’t need this stress.
Murray had enough stress to last a lifetime.
No.
I had to handle this alone. I had to prove to myself that I could take care of this asshole.
I screenshot his text messages and then blocked him.
Pulling my knees up to my chest, I considered his threats. So he’d looked into Murray. It didn’t mean he had the authority to have our marriage investigated. And if it did … so what?! No one could prove that Murray and I weren’t married for real.
Right?
My fingers itched with the urge to google how people who married for visas were investigated, but I knew that would be utterly stupid, considering they’d probably search our computers.
Murray and I just needed to get to know each other better and we could do that. I’d bring it up the next time we had a second alone.
Nick wouldn’t win this.
No way.
I was done being afraid of him.
At least … I was trying to be less afraid of him.
One day I would succeed.
I would.
I had to.
That sorry excuse for a man did not get to win.