Chapter 44
Alistair
Macabe birthday parties were just as chaotic as our family meals.
Banners and streamers hung from every available surface in the living room, though the weather had turned out to be dry, so the party had quickly been relocated outside.
Callum and Mal had carried the family dining table into the back garden, and now Heather and her date were busy attaching the pink and white balloons to the trees.
Right down the end of the garden, Teddy and the twins cheered on the small inflatable bouncy castle, where they all hung like monkeys from Callum’s long limbs, under Juniper’s watchful gaze, of course.
And I was pretty sure April and Mal had slipped off for a nap, because I was left holding the baby, at least two hours too early.
“Who trusted you with a kid, Macabe? Was there a raffle I missed?” Amy and Nisha strolled out the kitchen door together, both holding bottled beers.
“Redford, so glad I invited you into my house.”
They were watching Milo, matching adoring expressions on their faces. Amy barely even glanced up to reply, “Your mum’s house. And let’s not pretend you would have invited me if you hadn’t begged for a ‘huge, massive favour that I can only trust you with, Redford’.”
“You mean the favour I gave you a raise for?” I did my best stern-boss expression. The way Milo was gripping my fingers ruined the effect a little.
“I should have asked for more,” Amy said. “That thing’s an absolute eyesore.”
Nisha laughed, black hair slipping over her shoulder. “Oh come on, I’m actually going to miss it.”
“What’s an eyesore?” Isla appeared behind Amy, a glass of Coke in her hand. Her hair was down, and her were eyes glittering from smiling so hard. So fucking pretty I still went cross-eyed every time I looked at her.
We all straightened. “Nothing—” I said quickly.
“Alistair’s new haircut,” Amy blurted, already dragging Nisha away. “Happy birthday, Isla.”
“Thanks.” Isla’s smile slipped, watching them leave. “What was that about?”
I cleared my throat, rearranging Milo into one arm so I could tug the end of a curl. If Isla was in sight, my brain demanded I be touching her at all times. I didn’t make the rules. “Nothing. Amy was just . . . handing in her notice.”
“What?”
Fuck. I was not made for cloak-and-dagger shit. For two weeks I’d been secretly meeting with Heather and my mum to plan this surprise party – not to mention her birthday present – and I’d never been sweatier in my life. I was pretty sure I’d given myself an ulcer. “Never mind. Having a good time?”
“The best but . . .” she lowered her voice, her hand absently stroking over Milo’s head. “Everyone’s being too nice; all the presents are too much.”
“Agree to disagree,” I said, marvelling at the way she blushed.
I’d always known I was a man susceptible to addiction. That’s why I tried to eat well. Exercised. Drank . . . but never too much. Too much of a good thing and all that.
The thing that always pissed me off about that idiom was no one ever spoke about too much of the best thing. How it rearranged your insides until that best thing was just about the only reason your heart was still beating.
Probably not clinically healthy . . . but I was really fucking happy with my situation.
Wasn’t that what love was supposed to do? Wreck your insides and leave a gaping wound in your chest once it was gone.
The absolute best parts of my day were breakfasts with Isla and Teddy. Dinners. Baking. Lego. Watching the same movie on repeat a thousand times. Sharing Isla’s bed every night. Finding a thousand different ways to make her moan. Then doing it all over again.
That was the good stuff. Everything else was just filler.
I still wasn’t certain I deserved any of it. But the selfish part of me had stopped listening to those doubts long ago.
Stepping in close, Isla pressed up on her toes to kiss me. Dipping to meet her, I opened my mouth, using my tongue, not giving a fuck we were with my family and there was a sleeping kid in my arms. “What was that for?”
“For today. For loving me.”
Shit. I had to tell her.
I quickly handed Milo off to my mum, who cooed in delight at her first grandson.
“Okay, so don’t be mad. But I have one more surprise – don’t argue,” I said when she opened her mouth. Standing behind her, I slipped a hand over her eyes. “Come with me. No peeking.” I led her through the living room and into the hallway.
“Are we going to your room?”
“I wish.” Our feet shuffled, and we giggled as she tripped over the threshold onto the front drive.
Keeping her eyes covered, I swallowed a nervous breath. This was possibly way too fucking much. But it was too late now. “Okay, so when you open your eyes, just remember that feeling from five minutes ago. How much you love me, yeah?”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t be scared . . . you just have to relax and take it.”
“Oh my god. Did you get me a butt plug?”
“What? No!”
“You said relax and take it, my mind is taking me to some dark places here.”
I nipped at her ear. “Again, don’t fucking tempt me, Lang.” She laughed, and I slipped my hand from her face. “Open your eyes.”
“Finally—” Her words broke off with a gasp.
I came round to her side to watch her blink at the VW Beetle glinting in the setting sun. “I know it’s a lot for a birthday gift?” I hurried to explain as tears filled her eyes. “But you were so sad and I—”
“Daisy. H-how did you—”
“A mechanic in Portree rebuilt the engine – she’s been sitting on Amy’s drive for two weeks. I hope I didn’t—”
She threw herself at me. Arms and legs in a full circle around my body. “Alistair. She’s incredible! Thank you,” she sobbed, and I held her tightly, my racing heart slowing as I breathed her in.
She loved it. Thank fuck for that.
“Want to take her for a spin?” I finally asked, dragging the keys from my pocket, with the disco-ball keyring I’d seen in a shop in the village and just known it had to be Isla’s.
“Are you kidding? Of course.” We were grinning like fools as we strapped ourselves in. The engine started with a gorgeous purr that made her cover her mouth, tears coating her lips, even as she laughed.
“Remember the rules: windows down, music up,” I said, twisting the dial until I found the perfect station.
We’d made it less than a mile down the road when she pulled over into a passing space and turned the engine off. “Everything okay?” I asked glancing at the dashboard.
“Perfect.” Then her hips were straddling mine.
“Isla . . . what are you—”
“This is all your fault. The party, then Milo and the car – I can’t wait until we get home.”
She grinned, then slid into the footwell.
God, this woman fucking did it for me. “Isla,” I groaned, watching her undo my belt buckle, slide open my zipper. “This isn’t how birthdays are supposed to go.”
“Agree to disagree.” Her breath fanned over me.
I was so fucking weak, I could only moan as I watched her slip me over her tongue. So far gone, it only took a few strokes of her tongue and I was spilling.
I came with a growl. “Up here, dress down to your waist.” I hauled her into my lap, elbows knocking against the dashboard. “I want to watch you play with your tits while you come.”
She did as she was told, legs circling my waist as I tore her dress down, yanking the cups of her bra with it. Kissing my way down her chest. “Alistair.” Her fingers dug into my hair. “Alistair.”
“Hmm?”
I’d forever remember this moment, an angel draped across my lap when she finally said, “I’m . . . ready . . . I want us to move in together.”
I paused. Tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Are you sure? We’re basically living together already, Isla. I haven’t slept in my own bed in weeks, we only use it for sex at this point.”
“I know, but I want us to be family. I know you want that too.” Yeah, I wanted it.
More than anything. Would already have a ring on her finger if I wasn’t afraid of going too fast. “I’ve been stalling because I didn’t want to move.
I had this romantic idea of staying in the place we fell in love for ever but .
. . it’s just a house. Things are going great with the café, and it feels like the perfect time.
I want to give Teddy a bigger bedroom. Get a shower big enough for us both to fit in it. ”
God, I loved her. “I don’t plan on moving; I’m taking the wall down.”
Her eyes dragged over my face. “But . . . we’d need to own it for that.”
“I know.” I swallowed. Nervous. “I sold my Glasgow flat and the money’s just sitting there.”
I watched her face as understanding set in. “So . . . you’d buy the house?”
Yeah, that was definitely too big.
“I’d buy it for us,” I rushed out anyway, cupping her cheeks. “It wouldn’t be like last time. Both of our names would be on the deed. Fifty–fifty. Or . . . we could put it in Teddy’s name eventually, if that makes you feel more comfortable—”
Her mouth slackened in that way I knew meant her mind was racing.
My heart thumped, waiting for her to shoot the idea down, say that I’d regret it.
If she did, I’d never bring it up again.
“Would you let me pay you back monthly for my half? I’m already paying rent; I could pay it to you instead.”
I hated the idea, but, “If that’s what you want.” I knew how important it was to her that she could take care of herself.
“So . . .” I urged when she said nothing. My heart in my throat. “Is that a yes?”
“I’m not sure, we might have a problem,” she eventually said. I stopped breathing. “See, I have this neighbour, and he’s really grumpy, gets irate at the slightest sound. I’m pretty sure he tried to have me evicted at one point. I doubt he’d let us do any home renovations.”
I pressed our foreheads together, gripping her tighter like a balloon on a string. “He sounds like a real arsehole.”
Her laugh was a luminous thing. Far-reaching and wild as she brought our lips together. “I don’t know. I think I can bring him around.”