Chapter 21
twenty-one
LUCY
We’ve been talking for hours, drifting from easy, surface-level conversation to the corners of his world he doesn’t usually invite anyone into.
The only time we stopped was when my stomach growled loud enough to make both of us laugh, and we realized it was time to order food before I embarrassed myself further.
Somewhere between the laughs and eating, I learn his middle name is Hamish—delivered with a reluctant shrug because he was half embarrassed to share it. As if Janet is any better.
Then he drops a detail that sticks. As a kid, his mum used to call him “Aidy-Pie.” It’s absurdly sweet, and I catch myself smiling before I can stop it. The way his eyes flicker with something almost shy makes me want to catalog every little thing about him.
I notice the stack of books on the end table after that—old Scottish poetry, spines worn soft. He tells me he always cleans his glasses twice before reading, a habit he can’t break. I tuck that detail away, too.
Somewhere in the soft hush of the evening, I realize I’m already holding onto these pieces of him that don’t need loud declarations. To me, it’s these little moments that matter the most.
“Can I ask you something?” I finally say as we’re winding down. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
He gives me a wary look, but nods.
I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “What happened with Isla’s mother?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable. Aidan’s expression shifts immediately.
For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer. His eyes darken, focusing on some distant point beyond me, and I can almost see the walls rebuilding themselves brick by brick.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked that. You don’t have to—”
“No,” he interrupts. “It’s all right.”
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. When he finally speaks, each word seems carefully measured.
“Her name is Emily.” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Our relationship moved fast. She got pregnant after only a few months together.”
I stay perfectly still, afraid that any movement might make him stop.
“We tried to make it work, but she didn’t want this life. Didn’t want the responsibility. Said she wasn’t cut out for it.”
My throat tightens, and my vision blurs as tears well in my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back, but one escapes, sliding down my cheek before I can catch it.
“She really just…left?” My voice breaks on the last word.
I can’t fathom walking away from that beautiful little girl with her wild curls and endless questions. From Aidan, who clearly gives everything he has to being a good father.
There are so many people who would give anything to have what she did. People like me.
Aidan’s eyes snap to my face, catching that single, stubborn tear. “Some people aren’t meant for this kind of life,” he says, his voice carefully controlled.
I shake my head, the ache spilling over. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” he agrees. “It doesn’t.”
He shifts beside me, closing the distance, and suddenly, I’m caught in the heat radiating off him. His hand moves slowly, hesitant, asking permission without words. Then his thumb brushes the tear away, so light it steals my breath.
“You’re crying for us,” he says, a quiet kind of wonder threading through the roughness in his voice.
I lean into his touch before I even realize I’m doing it. “Of course I am.”
His palm cups my cheek now, and I can feel a slight tremor in his fingers. “Lucy…”
His eyes drop down to my lips, and the whole world shrinks. Breathing feels like a stranger, and every instinct screams at me to close the space that’s been hovering for too long.
Before the doubt claws its way in, I lean in, closing the last inch, and press my lips to his.
For one heart-stopping moment, he freezes, and I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake. My heart clenches, bracing for the rejection that I’m sure is coming. Then his hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer with an urgency that ignites a wildfire inside me.
His lips are softer than I imagined, but the kiss itself is anything but gentle. It’s hungry and desperate, like he’s been starved for this and I’m the first taste of something that finally fills him. His mouth moves against mine with a fevered need.
His hand tangles in my hair, tugging me closer. I fold into him without thinking, meeting the heat of his mouth as the kiss deepens. A sigh escapes me, and the moment it slips free, he smiles against my lips. A satisfied curve that tells me he heard every ounce of want in it.
I slide my hands to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my fingertips, the hard, comforting rhythm that only amplifies my own racing pulse.
I could get lost in the way his mouth moves against mine, in the way everything else falls away—the noise, the world, everything that’s not this.
When we break apart, both of us breathless, his forehead rests against mine.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he confesses, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.
I smile, running my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Me, too.”
He pulls back, his gaze searching mine. “This changes things.”
“I know,” I whisper, because I do. This isn’t just about us. There’s Isla to consider, and all the hurdles that come with letting someone new into their carefully constructed world.
“If this goes wrong—” he starts, but I reach up, pressing my fingers gently against his lips, stopping the words before they can form.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now.”
His eyes hold mine. There’s a battle waging inside him—fear warring with something that looks dangerously like hope.
“I’m not going anywhere, Aidan,” I say softly. “Not unless you want me to. And I promise to be so careful where Isla is concerned.”
He takes my hand, pulling it away from his lips but not letting go. His thumb traces slow circles against my palm, sending tingles up my arm.
“I’m thirty-five years old, Lucy.”
“Okay?”
“You’re…twenty-five.”
“I am,” I say, still not seeing the issue.
He lets out a heavy breath. “That’s ten years between us. When you were finishing university, I was changing nappies and working double shifts.”
There’s a spark of frustration flaming inside me. After the way he just kissed me like I was as essential as the breaths he takes, he’s hung up on birth years?
“Is that supposed to matter to me?”
“Shouldn’t it?” His thumb stills against my palm. “I’m at a different stage in life. I’ve got the baggage to prove it. You deserve someone who—”
“No,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “I deserve someone who makes me happy. Aidan, I’m not some naive girl who doesn’t know what she wants,” I continue, shifting closer. “I run my own business. I make my own decisions. And I’m choosing to be here.”
He searches my face, and I let him see everything. The certainty, the want, the stubborn determination that runs through every MacKenzie that’s ever walked this earth.
“Fucking hell, Lucy. I couldn’t stay away if I tried.”
Then he leans in again, lips meeting mine with a softness that catches me off guard. He tastes like fresh mint from the tea he was drinking, cool and grounding against the heat of our kiss.
This one isn’t desperate like before. It’s slower, deeper, his lips coaxing mine open with a slow sweep of his tongue teasing against mine. When we part, the room spins just a little, and I’m dizzy with it. His fingers trace the curve of my jaw, light as a whisper.
“I should get you home,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t move.
“Probably,” I reply, even though my body leans toward him. “Or…I could stay a little longer.”
His eyes gleam with something dark that I can feel more than see. For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to kiss me again. Instead, he stands slowly and reaches for my hand.
“Come on,” he says.
I take it, letting him pull me to my feet.
He leads me through the living room to a back door I hadn’t noticed before.
When he opens it, cool night air rushes in, and we step out onto a small wooden deck.
The night sky stretches above us, a canvas of deep blue scattered with stars that seem close enough to touch.
The moon hangs low, casting silver light across the yard and the trees beyond.
“Oh,” I breathe, taking in the view. “This is beautiful.”
Aidan stands beside me, his shoulder grazing mine. “It’s why I bought this place.”
I lean against the railing, tilting my head back to take in the vastness above us. “I can see why.”
He hums low in his throat. Out here, everything slows. The questions I haven’t dared ask don’t feel so loud anymore.
“You ever bring anyone else out here?” I tease.
He lets out a quiet breath that might be a laugh. “No. I like the quiet. Doesn’t usually make sense to share it.”
“What about now?” I ask, my voice catching just a little.
His mouth curves into a near dangerous smirk. Then, slow and sure, he lifts his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers trail down, skimming the side of my neck, making me shiver.
He steps closer, crowding my space until my back meets the railing and he’s all I can see.
I let myself take him in, savoring every detail.
The surprising length of his lashes, the small scar just above his brow that I must have missed before, the way his gray eyes are dimmer now, like the calm after a storm rather than the storm itself.
His hands settle on the railing, caging me in. “What do you think?”
I blink up at him, brain scrambling. What do I think?
I think my heart’s somewhere in my throat, because I can’t remember what I asked him. Not with his body so close that I could count the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose if I wasn’t too busy staring at his mouth.
“What…” I start, then stop, because I honestly can’t remember what we were talking about.
Aidan’s smile widens before his mouth finds mine again. His lips move over mine with aching patience, drawing out every heartbeat, every breath. It’s like he wants to make sure I feel it everywhere. And I do. God, I do.
His hand cradles the back of my neck while his thumb grazes just beneath my jaw, coaxing me closer.
The stars could be spinning above us and I wouldn’t know. There’s only him, his steady hands, his steady heart, and the way he kisses me like staying away was never an option at all.