Chapter 25
LENA
“How are you feeling being back?” Tess asked. She was in the middle of a self-manicure, phone propped up for our long-distance-latte call as she painted designs onto her nails. Though it was less of a long-distance-latte call and more of a long-distance pep talk.
“I can’t tell if I want to throw up or if I’m hungry,” I admitted, sliding my blazer over my blouse. I had Tess propped up behind the sink as I stared at myself in the mirror, doing a last-minute check of my hair and makeup.
“Have you tried eating something?”
“Isla brought me up some toast and jam this morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to take more than a bite or two of it.”
“Aww,” Tess said. “She’s worried about you.”
“She’s been a lifesaver,” I said. Without prying into the why of it all, Isla had offered me a room at the Deerhound without hesitating. I’d had to return to Scotland for the court hearing to keep Jasper from stealing Weston’s inheritance, but like hell was I staying at Lochbrae.
Flying back here had felt like flying back to some strange kind of prison sentence. I’d only just re-settled in Houston after the whole festival debacle. Weston had stayed in Braeburn, and I’d returned to life at the office, using Nancy as an intermediary to avoid having to talk directly to him.
I couldn’t handle that.
Not after the way things had ended.
Distance helped, somewhat, and throwing myself into grad school applications.
But every time the world grew quiet and my thoughts strayed to Lochbrae’s heather-filled hills, to Weston’s hands on my body, to him smiling at me across the community center and calling me wife, it felt like someone had clawed a hole in my chest. Our partnership was never supposed to be long term. We were never going to last.
I knew that.
But I hadn’t expected things to end the way they did.
And I certainly never expected Weston to compare me to Narissa and claim he couldn’t trust me.
After two relationships had fallen apart because of my infertility, I’d thought that was my tenderest spot—the place where I’d hurt the most. But Weston’s words had hit me even deeper.
Because I had feelings for him. Adult feelings that went deeper than anything I’d experienced before.
I blinked at myself in the mirror, a rush of emotion shivering through me. I fought off the sting of tears. There’d been enough of those lately.
“You don’t really think the judge is going to overturn the will, do you?” Tess asked.
I picked up my mascara wand, fixing my eyelashes. “It’s apparently called a sheriff here.”
“The judge is called a sheriff? Is there a separate sheriff who does law enforcement stuff, or is it all one person?”
“It’s usually constables doing law enforcement. The sheriffs do…law interpretation, I guess. They handle the majority of civil cases.”
“Confusing.”
“The most senior judge is called the Lord President, so do with that what you will.”
Tess laughed. “Kind of badass. But seriously, you don’t actually think Jasper’s going to win?”
“Not according to Weston’s lawyer, but who knows? Everything else is screwed up, why not this too?”
“Lena,” Tess said softly.
I put my mascara wand down. I couldn’t look at her.
Tess had flown back to the US with me the evening of the festival, after Weston had stormed out.
She’d held my hand tight, reminding me how strong I was even as I spent the entirety of the flight flipping between crying fits and angrily shooting back tiny bottles of wine.
“You’ve got this,” she said.
“I know,” I said, blinking the sadness and the melancholy and the anxiety back behind my professional mask.
I wasn’t ready to see Weston again, but I didn’t have a choice.
“The lawyer said it should be a straightforward case. The sheriff will hear the evidence, and we should be done in a couple of hours.”
That’s all I had to endure. A couple more hours of playing pretend as Mrs. Kincaid. Then I could escape back to the other side of the world.
I released an unsteady breath as I smoothed my skirt. “One more hurdle to go,” I said.
“And then it’s all over,” Tess agreed as there was a knock at my door.
“That’s probably my ride,” I said, picking up my phone.
“Call me later?” Tess asked. “Let me know how it goes?”
“Of course.” I’d probably be in desperate need of a full debrief. I hung up the phone, tucking it into my pocket as I hurried to open my door. Isla stood there, hands in the pockets of her jeans.
“Your car’s here,” she said.
“Thanks.” I could have walked across town to the Sheriff Court Building on the high street, but the reality was, I couldn’t stomach the idea of everyone seeing and recognizing me. I didn’t want to have to deal with the questions from people wondering why I wasn’t with Weston.
Isla gave me a nod. “You need anything else?”
“Just the bill.”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you not to worry about that.” She’d said the same thing when she’d handed me the room key.
“I mean it.”
“So do I. Missed you around town.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I admitted. I missed walking down the high street, hearing my name called, saying hello to people who had so quickly become my friends.
I missed Bonnie and Agnes and Callum. I wondered how Arran was getting on.
I even missed Jo and her busybody ways. But mostly I missed Weston.
I couldn’t miss him.
“You’ll have to come visit me in Houston some time,” I told Isla.
“So you don’t think you’ll be coming back?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Her cheek twitched, her lips pulled into a tight line, but there was understanding there too. At least, I thought so. She flicked her head in the direction of the stairs. “Better get down there before your cab drives off.”
I thanked her again, grabbed my purse, and headed off to play pretend for the last time.
The courthouse was a modest stone building near the center of town. The drive took less than five minutes.
Weston was waiting for me on the front steps when I pulled up.
My stomach flipped, some part of me—every part of me—warming at the sight of him before that instinctive reaction was replaced by a cold dread.
I pressed on my stomach, silently begging it not to react to my stress levels with another epic vomit.
At least I didn’t have plates full of haggis shoved in my face this time.
He stepped forward and opened the car door for me before I could get out, and I quickly dropped my hand.
“Hello, wife,” he said, extending his hand for me. His voice was low. Gravelly. Like he hadn’t spoken much today. His words broke some of the tension, but it couldn’t erase the awkwardness that clung to us now. Awkwardness we were going to have to shift before we walked into that building together.
“Hello, husband,” I said. It was easier than using his name. I reached for his arm. It was automatic. It was for show. Because none of this was real.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, his words overly polite, lacking the warmth I’d grown used to over the past couple of months. I hated it, but what did that matter?
“Of course. That’s what a good wife does,” I said.
“Though I’m surprised you trusted me to come on my own and didn’t have me bundled away in the night.
” I kept my gaze locked ahead even as I felt him stiffen.
We passed beneath a coat of arms hung above the door.
Inside, the walls were painted a dull gray color, with simple wooden benches filling the waiting area.
“Lena—
“Have your solicitors arrived?” I asked, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Happy couple. We were a happy freaking couple. That was the only way we were going to sell this and make sure Jasper didn’t rip away everything we’d worked so hard to achieve. “Their email said they’d be here early.”
“They’re preparing,” he confirmed, pointing out a door that led to the courtroom. There was only one. A single courtroom for a tiny town.
“Good,” I said, my insides trembling as he caught my eye.
I ached to be this close to him after everything, but I’d promised to see this through, and whether he trusted me or not, I wasn’t about to go back on my word.
Pete deserved to have his legacy come to fruition.
I only wished I wouldn’t have let my heart get so tangled up in Weston.
The door to the courtroom swung open, and Henry Pembroke-Jones walked out to greet us. He was dressed in a smart navy suit and shiny dress shoes. He looked exactly as I imagined Weston’s lawyer would look on the day of the trial—confident.
“Weston,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Henry,” Weston replied.
“Lena, good to see you,” he said, shaking my hand next. “You both ready?”
I lifted my shoulder.
The corner of Henry’s mouth quirked. “Nervous?”
“I’m trying not to be,” Weston said.
Henry gave us an easy, reassuring smile. “Trust me. We have this in hand. The sheriff isn’t going to fuss. The will is straightforward.”
I nodded, automatically leaning into Weston, threading my fingers through his and squeezing his hand tightly as Henry walked us into the chamber.
Jasper was already inside with his lawyer, their heads pressed together.
He avoided looking at us as if he’d been instructed to avert his eyes.
We settled in at our table with Henry, rising to our feet when the sheriff appeared dressed in a long black robe.
She settled in at a raised bench, and then the hearing began.
Henry addressed the sheriff as my lady as he presented the will and delivered our arguments. Jasper’s lawyer took his turn to speak, then the sheriff asked some clarifying questions. Finally, there were closing remarks.