12. Locke
LOCKE
“You look happy,” I said, glancing over at Isla as I drove her back to the inn.
“I am,” she agreed, catching her lip between her teeth in that way I loved.
The last of the sunset framed her in soft yellows and pinks, turning strands of her hair gold.
She looked gorgeous, and I wanted to tell her.
Instead, I turned back to the road. “I had a great day with you and Aisling. And honestly, it was nice to tell Weston and Lena about the baby. They were really happy for us.”
“I promise you, I had no intention of dropping the baby-bomb this evening,” I said, taking it slowly through the winding Highland roads, cautious of the precious cargo I had on board.
“Sorry if that caught you off guard. But I never doubted they’d be supportive.
Alistair will be too, once he finds out. ”
Isla reached out to squeeze my arm. “It’s nice to know the baby has this built-in community. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the way I grew up, with me and Mom adventuring. But being back in Braeburn has reminded me how important community really is. I want that for our child.”
I nodded in agreement. I had my condo in Edinburgh, but the more I thought about the baby, the more I envisioned Braeburn and Isla, not just as my co-parent, but as something else.
Pressure swirled behind my ribs. The lines between real and fake were blurring.
I could feel it every time I looked at her.
I’d always known that kind of life, that kind of relationship, wasn’t for me.
Love, in almost every case, led to loss and ruin.
It wasn’t stable. It couldn’t be counted on the way business could.
I knew that. So why the hell couldn’t I get that image out of my head?
“Maybe babysitting Aisling is good practice for us,” Isla was saying when I came crashing back to Earth. “You know, before the baby comes.”
“I don’t think you actually need the practice,” I assured her. “You’re amazing with kids. Patient. Fun. Serious when you need to be. If anyone needs practice, it’s me.”
“What are you talking about?” Isla said. “You’re great with Aisling. She adores you.”
I laughed, even as doubt filled me. “Because I get to be the fun uncle.” I lifted my shoulder. “Being a dad is going to be completely different. I don’t get to sweep in once a month and buy ice cream. I’ll be a parent every day.” What if I was terrible at it?
“Locke,” Isla said, her words laced with sincerity. “You’re gonna be wonderful. You know how I know that? Because you’re already showing up. That’s all a kid needs. Someone who shows up for them. Someone who makes them feel special. And I can see how special Aisling feels around you.”
Her words warmed me somewhere too deep to reach.
“What we really need to work on is your diaper-changing skills,” Isla joked.
“I think they have classes for that,” I pointed out.
“And we should probably both go.”
“Sure,” I said. “Though, just for the record, it’s obvious you’re going to crush this mum thing. Nappy changing and all.”
She chuckled softly. “I think my goal is to be like my own mom. That’s the bar I’m going to set for myself.”
“What was she like?” I asked. “I mean, I know she was an artist, but aside from that?”
Isla went quiet for a beat, and I wondered if anyone had asked her that since losing her mother.
“She was soft-spoken but lit up every room she was in,” she finally said.
“Her attention to detail was extraordinary. She could remember the littlest things about a scene. She enjoyed nature, obviously, and exploring. She’s the reason for my love of hiking.
She was always kind to strangers and quick to hug.
” Her voice grew tight. “She also had a gift for making everything beautiful and fun. Even the hard things.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, you know how we moved to the States when I was seven?” I nodded, and she continued, “Starting over was really difficult for me. I had to get used to a new place and new school, had to make new friends. There was endless teasing because of my accent.”
“The Scottish accent is the best accent,” I huffed. “Those kids clearly had no idea what they were talking about.”
“I know!” She grinned as we reached the high street. I drove even slower, wanting to linger with her a little longer. “Mom helped me overcome all that. She’d practice an American accent with me for fun. It’s how I got so good at impressions.”
“So you can mock me?” I teased.
“Only a little,” she joked, sobering quickly. “My aunt used to say that Mom made the world feel colorful. And that’s the experience I want to give our baby. I want them to love nature and art. I want them to be creative and filled with passion for the world the way Mom was.”
I pulled up outside the inn, hand on the wheel, and couldn’t help grinning at the way she spoke about our future child. “I think we can manage that.”
Isla unbuckled her seatbelt but made no move to exit the car. Her eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I just want this baby to know how loved they are. By both of us. Regardless of what our relationship is, I never want them to doubt that.”
I turned the engine off, shifting in her direction. I suspected she wasn’t just talking about the baby now, but her relationship with Dougal. “Can I ask…what happened with your father? Why are things so tough?”
Isla ran her hands over her knees, sighing. “I guess, to me, it just always felt like Dad was more concerned about making money than about being there for his family.”
I nodded for her to continue.
She sank back in her seat, staring out the windshield. “When I was six, he decided that MacRae Whiskey should be more than some local brand. He went all in on his expansion plans, moved the headquarters to Edinburgh. To his credit, it worked.”
“You and your mum didn’t move with him?”
Isla shook her head. “Mom refused. She’d never wanted the city life. So Dad commuted back and forth for a while. He’d spend the work week in Edinburgh, the weekends in Braeburn. But when you’re growing a company, well…” She gestured to me. “You probably know. The work never—”
“Stops,” I said, nodding.
“Dad wanted to be involved in everything. He wouldn’t delegate, which meant even when he was here, he wasn’t really present, you know?
He was always taking a call or looking through paperwork or checking his email.
The less meaningful time we all spent together, the more fights my parents had.
It all ended in divorce when I was seven. ”
“I’m sorry that happened when you were so young,” I told her. “My parents managed to wait until I was in college.”
Isla finally looked at me. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. It still sucks to watch your family fall apart.”
“Sometimes I wished it happened when I was too young to understand,” I said.
It wasn’t a topic I usually got into with people, but it felt easier with her.
I was the sole focus of her attention, and that comforted the old aches.
“Instead, I had to be privy to every uncomfortable detail of how my mum fell in love with a younger man on a trip to Europe.”
Isla gasped. “No!”
“She ran off with him. It was a short-lived affair, and it wasn’t long before Mum regretted everything.
She wanted my dad back in the end, but he was done.
The divorce itself was quick and clean, thankfully.
By that point, I think Mum felt too guilty to push for much, and Dad bent over backward to be fair.
But I saw how diminished he was in the aftermath.
Even ten years on, I know it still hurts him. ”
“Oh, Locke,” she said, her hand seeking mine, entwining our fingers. “How are you and your parents now?”
“It’s…okay. But I wouldn’t say I’m close with either one of them.
I saw more of Dad—then and now—but a lot of that is because of the business.
We worked side by side for years, and even now that he’s retired, it’s still what we usually chat about.
The next property. The next deal. As far as Mum goes…
I think part of me hasn’t ever fully forgiven her.
We still have a relationship, but it’s strained. It might always be.”
“I think that’s what worries me most about my dad,” Isla said, her lips pulling into a tight line.
“That our relationship will always be this way.” She squeezed my hand.
I didn’t know who she was trying to comfort more—me or herself.
“I mean, he’s about to be a grandfather, but I’m not even excited to tell him.
What if nothing has changed? What if he still picks his ambitions—picks whiskey—over the baby and me?
” She blinked as if to fight off a flurry of tears.
The desire to pull her into my arms was strong. I wanted to be able to give her the answers to the questions she was asking, but both of us knew I couldn’t.
“What hurts the most is that he isn’t even sorry about all the time we lost together.
Or rather, he wished we’d had more time together, but at his convenience.
He wishes I’d moved to Edinburgh instead of Washington state.
And now, he wishes I visited him more—yet it never occurs to him to visit me.
He still believes he did the right thing.
He wants a relationship with me now, but he expects me to do all the work to keep it going.
And why should I do that when he’s shown me I’m not his priority? ”
I could tell she wasn’t ready to forgive Dougal. And I understood that. It wasn’t as easy to forgive and forget as some people thought. “I’m sorry you haven’t been able to get the apology you’re looking for.”
She grumbled as if frustrated that Dougal had even put her in that position. “Just promise me we won’t ever let Baby Fraser feel abandoned.”
“Baby Fraser, huh?” I ran my thumb along her knuckles and nodded. If all I had to do in this lifetime was promise to love my child the way they deserved, I could do that. “I promise.”
A watery smile tugged at her lips. “Good. Because I still remember being that little girl who couldn’t understand why I didn’t matter. Why I wasn’t special enough to deserve my dad’s time.”
I released her hand, catching her face with my palm, my thumb brushing her cheek. I felt the warmth of her blush as I leaned into her space. “It’s hard to imagine anyone not realizing how truly special you are, Isla.”
She gasped lightly, whispering my name as she shifted to meet me halfway, her lips catching mine.
It was a gentle kiss, a sweet kiss, fueled by the need for comfort but also tinged with understanding.
As my fingers shifted into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and her hand snaked up my front, curving around my neck, desire surged through me and the kiss turned heated.
She broke away first, lip caught between her teeth. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime,” I whispered, wondering what the hell this meant.
“I’ll look up those nappy changing courses,” she said, then she slipped out the door.
I slumped against my seat, watching until she’d disappeared from view.
I was still floating in a confusing, post-kiss haze when I returned to Lochbrae. Weston was in the library, reviewing a stack of files, with Milo passed out on the carpet at his feet.
“Lena put you to work before bed?”
He chuckled. “I find I’m the most productive now when Aisling is asleep. Something you’ll probably learn soon.”
Ah, yes. The baby.
“Drink?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle of whiskey on the table. It wasn’t MacRae’s, though I knew he had a few bottles of that kicking around. I nodded, and he poured the amber liquid into a glass, passing it to me.
I accepted, taking a seat in the armchair.
“So,” he said.
“So,” I parroted, lips twitching. I’d known this conversation was coming from the moment I’d let the news slip.
“A baby.”
“Trust me,” I assured him. “I was as surprised as you when I found out.”
“It was that day you made the offer on the distillery, wasn’t it?” Weston asked, setting his files aside. “I remember she was waiting here to talk to you when we got back.”
“Yeah, that was when she told me.”
“I thought you were faking a relationship for the sake of the hotel deal,” Weston said. “I didn’t know a baby was part of that.”
I barked a laugh. “It wasn’t supposed to be. We were together one night. A bit of fun. No strings attached.”
“This is a bloody long string,” Weston pointed out. “Are you ready for that?”
“Well, that’s why they take nine months, right? So you have time to get ready.”
He inclined his head as if to say touché.
“I’m committed, but I suppose at some point you just have to dive in and figure it out.”
“And the land deal?” Weston asked.
“That’s a separate thing. I genuinely want Isla to have access to the land. To keep her childhood home, and the natural landscape around it that she loves, safe from destruction. But more than that, I want to do right by her and the baby.”
“What does that look like?” Weston wondered. “You’re going to be parents, but the rest of your relationship isn’t real? If that’s the case, you guys are damn convincing.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be real,” I admitted, sighing into my glass.
I sipped the whiskey, trying to let it burn away the taste of Isla on my lips.
“We were going to lock down the distillery and then stage a breakup once everything was in place. Keep things clean and simple. Then we’d just co-parent. But now…”
Weston’s eyebrows arched. “What about now?”
“I’m starting to wonder if there is something genuine between us.” I glanced at him, unnerved by his silence. “Is this the part where you read me the riot act?”
Weston leaned forward, hands folded in front of him.
“I want to, but I don’t think I have any right.
I’m the guy that married Lena to fulfill the terms of Grandad’s will.
It was supposed to be six months and then a divorce, remember?
But somewhere along the way, it became real too. And look at us now.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked him.
He sat back, lips pursed, thinking through his answer.
“I guess if you have genuine feelings for Isla, it makes sense for you to make a go of being a couple. You don’t want to spend your whole life wondering what if, especially now that you’re forever tied together.
Just…don’t screw it up.” He lifted his finger in warning.
“The town council and Dougal aren’t the only ones who’ll be ticked off with you if you don’t treat her right. ”
The corner of my mouth quirked. “Ah, there’s the big-brother routine I was waiting for.”
“Ha!” He reached out and clinked his glass against mine. “It’s not me you have to worry about. Lena’s the one who’ll sic Bonnie on you.”