4. London
Ramsay and Tierney were an unexpected couple in some ways.
On the outside they appeared as opposites.
My best friend was warm and outgoing and genuinely liked people, even though she’d seen the worst in them.
Ramsay was a bit of a misanthrope, to the point of having bought an entire island to escape from other people.
He was gruff and intimidating and was as warm and fuzzy as a porcupine.
He was also thirteen years older than Tierney.
No, they didn’t seem like they should match.
But they did. Because behind Nee’s warmth was a spine of steel, courage for days, and she and Ramsay shared a passionate sense of justice.
Moreover, Nee was incredibly pragmatic, forthright, and wise beyond her years.
I’d seen the way Ramsay looked at her when she spoke, and I knew he thought the sun rose and set with her.
Nee and Akiva, their Alaskan malamute, were who Ramsay cared about.
But also me, I realized. I was in the small group of people Ramsay McRae would throw down for.
There weren’t very many. In fact, every single one of them had been at their small, private wedding.
Their wedding guests included me, Ramsay’s business partner and friend Quinn McQuarrie, Taran, Quinn’s sister Cammie, Taran’s brother Laird and his wife, and their friends Forde Dallas and Murray Shaw.
There were some villagers a little put out by the lack of an invite but not entirely surprised.
I’d been pulled into this little makeshift family, and I was beyond grateful for it. To Nee and her husband. They were my safe place. In truth, Nee had always been that for me, considering my parents had never been that. Ever.
Therefore, I’d confided in Nee the day after Nick called.
Not really thinking it through, I relayed everything as we stood in the B and B’s kitchen.
Ramsay had joined us, which he sometimes did before he headed out to work on a small development of homes he and Quinn were building on the other side of Glenvulin.
Because I’d spent the rest of yesterday hidden in my bungalow like a trapped rabbit, it all just spilled out.
That cold, controlled wrath I’d seen in Ramsay’s eyes eighteen months ago in New York returned as Nee flushed with outrage.
“There’s no way we’ll let Nick interfere with your visa. Right?” My best friend turned to her husband.
“Let me talk to some people so we can verify whether he really does have connections to the Secretary of State.” Ramsay gave me a reassuring nod.
“Even if he does, I have connections who would be more than happy to convince a member of the British Cabinet to reconsider interfering with your visa to satisfy independent foreign interests.”
“How? It would be hard to prove. There wouldn’t be anything unusual about denying someone an extension on their skilled worker’s visa, considering you got me that on a very loose definition of skilled.”
“You’re a trained chef. That’s a skilled profession,” Tierney argued.
“You know what I mean.”
“Don’t panic,” Ramsay insisted. “There’s fuck all Nick can do. And he can’t go anywhere. Did you block his number?”
I nodded.
“If he calls again using another number, I want to know. In the meantime, I’ll start digging into the Hustons, see if we can’t find more incriminating information that might finally convince Nick it would be in his family’s best interests for him to forget you exist.”
Nee hugged me tight and Ramsay gave my shoulder a comforting pat, his brow furrowed, already in problem-solving mode.
As soon as they left me in the kitchen, I was swamped with guilt.
What was I doing?
I knew in telling them that they’d take it on themselves. That they would make it their mission to fix this for me. After everything my friends had been through, they deserved peace, not more problems. And certainly not my problems.
I felt as useless as I had when boarding the plane to Scotland, knowing that I couldn’t escape Nick without Tierney and Ramsay’s help.
By the time breakfast was over, my stomach was in knots with the guilt and failure. After cleaning up, I found Nee in the dining room that had massive windows and French doors overlooking the Sound of Glenvulin. She wiped down the now-empty tables, brows drawn together like she was deep in thought.
“Hey, I’m heading out.”
Nee looked up, and I saw the tension etched into her expression, tension I had put there.
Renewed guilt burned in my nose and eyes. “I don’t want you and Ramsay worrying about the Nick problem. I’m going to deal with it myself.”
My best friend scowled. “No, you’re not.
I won’t and can’t leave you to deal with it yourself.
And why should you have to? If Nick wants to play dirty and pull the strings he has, then we’re pulling the strings we have, and Ramsay’s strings are way better than Nick’s.
” She stabbed the air aggressively with a fork, like she wished Nick was in front of her.
Overwhelming love flooded through me, and I gave her a watery smile. “I just wish I wasn’t so damn useless.”
“You are not and have never been useless. I don’t want to hear you say that again.”
“Okay, Mom,” I teased half-heartedly.
Instead of rolling her eyes or chuckling like I’d expect, Nee’s hand dropped to her lower belly. It was a subconscious move but one that made me gasp out loud.
Her eyes flared as I stared at her in shock.
“Are you … are you pregnant?”
Nee bit her lip, a smile prodding the corners of her mouth. “Maybe?”
“What?” I bridged the distance between us. “What does maybe mean?”
She blinked back tears. “I mean, I am pregnant, but I’m only twelve weeks, so we don’t want anyone to know yet. But I’m happy you guessed.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“I’m pregnant. You’re going to be Aunt London. Or Aunt Lonny. Or Aunt Lolo. I’ve been thinking about a bunch of cute—” Her words were cut off as I pulled her into a tight embrace, so happy for her I trembled with it.
Everything she’d lost … I couldn’t be more overjoyed that she’d come out the other side and found so much.
“Congratulations, bestie,” I whispered tearfully as Tierney returned my embrace. “You’re going to be the best mom ever.”
At her choked sob, I held her tighter.
“You’re going to be the best aunt. I’m so happy you’re here with me.”
Stark despair lashed me at her words, at the reminder that there was a possibility I wouldn’t in fact be here with her in the very near future.
Shit.
I’d just unloaded a whole bunch of stress onto my pregnant best friend.
I pulled away from her, studying her pretty face. “You have to let me deal with the Nick stuff. I can’t put this on you and Ramsay. Not now.”
“You’re not putting anything on me. I promise. I’ll let Ramsay deal with it. He already told me to let him handle it, so I’m not stressed. Okay?”
No, not okay.
At her mulish expression, I didn’t push. I just congratulated her again, promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and asked if she needed anything.
When she insisted that she didn’t, I departed the guest house and headed toward Main Street for a much-needed coffee from Pages & Perks.
My thoughts vacillated between the excitement of becoming an aunt and my worries that I would miss it all.
Despite Nee’s protestations, there was no way I could leave her and Ramsay to deal with my immigration and ex issues.
I needed to come up with my own plan. I needed to feel like I was the one doing something to protect myself and ensure my future.
The question was what?
My mind raced distractedly as I stepped into the coffeehouse/bookstore.
The adorable store Taran inherited from her mom was already busy.
Along the back wall was the coffee counter and all the machinery.
Bookshelves and stacks lined the adjacent side of the room and in the front were the bistro tables.
A comfortable couch and coffee table near the stacks was our go-to spot when me and the girls gathered for ‘book club’.
Another favorite spot were two armchairs next to the fireplace, but those were always the first spots snapped up.
Framed literary posters hung on the wall as did metal signs with coffee and book related sayings.
Like: “Death to Decaf.” “That’s what I do: I drink coffee.
I read books. And I know things.” “Drink Coffee: Do stupid things faster with more energy.” “Heaven is a never-ending supply of coffee and books. Welcome to Heaven.” And my personal favorite: “Imagine the possibilities if Shakespeare had access to coffee.”
I got in line behind two people I assumed were tourists because I didn’t recognize them and I was stewing in my concerns when I heard a voice call out, “Dad!”
Glancing toward the bookstore, I saw a tall, gangly teenage girl whom I recognized.
I’d first seen Kelly Shaw at last year’s Highland Games where Murray did storyteller time.
It was literally Murray sitting on a stool surrounded by kids, telling them fairy tales in that rumbling, gorgeous voice of his.
He had a hypnotic way of telling a tale, so much so that even the adults were mesmerized.
Kelly had been there, watching in the crowd.
She’d grown a couple of inches since then.
The pretty, blond teenager strolled out of the bookstacks with a paperback in hand and walked toward the front of the line. Sure enough, Murray stood a few people in front of me, head and shoulders above everyone else. I would have noticed him if my mind hadn’t been on Nee and Nick.
Murray’s daughter held out the book to him.
He looked down at her, in profile to me.
A pang echoed across my chest, accompanied by a telltale flutter in my belly I hadn’t experienced since I was thirteen years old, sitting next to my crush Jackson Montgomery in fourth period.
“Can I get this?” Kelly gave her dad a look I remembered Nee giving her parents many a time when she wanted something. The Aren’t I so cute, you can’t deny me anything look.