Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
My friends stared at me in awkward, pained silence.
“Sorry for bringing down the mood.”
“Don’t.” London leaned over to tap my knee. “You can talk to us about it. I think it’s smart to talk about it. More and more women who have the opportunity to do so are freezing their eggs because other women aren’t afraid to talk about how painful it is for the possibility to be taken out of your hands. Not that I want kids. That’s the decision I’ve made for myself.”
“You don’t want kids?” Cammie expressed no judgment, only interest.
London shrugged. “I had a shitty example. Don’t really want to perpetuate the generational trauma cycle.” She smirked. “We are really dark today, aren’t we?”
Everyone chuckled, but Cammie didn’t want to let the subject go. “You can still have kids, Taran.” She leaned over to take one of the mini cupcakes I’d supplied for our meeting. “The possibility is absolutely still there.”
“You and Frank didn’t discuss it?” Tierney referred to my ex.
“We did. He was unsure he wanted kids. I was sure I did. Another red flag in the relationship. Thank goodness that’s over.” I self-consciously rubbed my finger where the engagement ring I’d returned to him once sat. “If he couldn’t handle my grief, he couldn’t handle kids and marriage.”
“Is that what happened? He bailed because you were grieving?” Cammie glowered. “Seriously? What a wanker.”
“Well, technically I broke up with him, but I know he was relieved. He said I’d never let him in.” I paused and exhaled shakily. “And in all honesty, he was right. I always had one hand up with him and when Mum died, I couldn’t bear him being near me. I think … I think I might have been the villain in that story.”
“You could never be a villain,” London offered loyally.
“I think everyone is a villain in someone’s story.”
“Wow. Profound.” Cammie nodded. “I agree.”
Tierney glanced at all of us. “London is right. The mood feels distinctly depressing this morning. Should we at least pretend to discuss books to lighten things up? I mean, I’m happy to be depressed with you all, but I thought I’d suggest another option?”
“Lighten the mood.” I raised my coffee cup. “Please.”
“Okay. I’m reading this fabulous cowboy romance.” A mischievous smile curled her lips. “Ramsay is reading some high-brow philosophy book, and we’re in bed reading, and I got to this spicy scene and, uh, let’s just say Ramsay was happy to put his book away to read my book out loud … sort of like an instruction manual.”
We burst into laughter at her hilarious eyebrow wiggle.
London pretended to fan herself. “I don’t know what’s hotter, him recreating the sex scenes or the fact that your guy reads. Hot guys reading is sexy.”
“I’ve never dated a guy who was a big reader,” I mused.
“Quinn reads,” Cammie blurted, clearly without thinking because she blanched immediately.
Surprised and trying not to make it awkward, I replied, “He didn’t read when we dated.”
“Aye, he did.” She stared at me with that tiny hint of defiance I’d seen in her eyes over the past year. The one that told me there was a part of her that resented my anger toward her brother. “Back in your first year of uni, you took this English lit course, and you were always talking about these classic books with your friends. Quinn was worried about you leaving him behind, thinking he wasn’t educated or cultured enough for you … so he’d find the books in the library, and he’d read them so he could keep up with you.” She shrugged as my mind spun with this information. “It led to a love of reading. It’s why Heather and Angus are big readers.”
What the hell?
He’d never mentioned it back then. Never once brought it up. Surely, Cammie couldn’t be right … but it was too specific for her to be wrong.
My mind was still reeling as London, who was telling us about her latest cozy mystery obsession, stopped mid-sentence to stare at the very tall, bearded man who’d entered the store to join the queue at the barista counter.
Murray Shaw.
Murray, like me, was born on the island, but he was three years older than me in school, so I hadn’t known him that well. I knew he was in the Leth Sholas Pipe Band with Laird, Quinn, Ramsay, and Forde, so Quinn and my brother had obviously befriended Murray as they got older.
Plus, Murray was probably one of the wealthiest, if not the wealthiest, person on the island. He’d inherited his father’s small fishing company when he was very young, and he’d grown it into the largest fishing company in the Hebrides. Not only did he have multiple crews, but he had an offshoot of the company that ran chartered fishing guides for tourists. At only thirty-nine years old, he was a multimillionaire.