She felt the same.
“Thank you,” she whispered, saying that instead of the words he read in her eyes.
“Never thank me for looking after ye, lassie,” he whispered back.
She got up on her toes at the same time she pulled him down to her so she could press her forehead hard against his while closing her eyes tight.
He gave her that moment to pull it together.
She took it, and as Blake had a tendency to do, bested it and rolled down to her feet, let him go and turned back to her curling iron, saying, “We have to leave soon, honey.”
He took his cue.
Fortunately, as it happened, Nora had arranged for a selection of hats for the Sharp women.
They both went understated, Alex in a black and white tweed blazer, black trousers, a black blouse and a simple black hat with a downturned brim.
Blake redefined funereal elegance in a slim black pantsuit, black turtleneck, black heels and a little black hat that came down further over her head and had a little veil.
They sat at the back, but even so, caused a mild sensation to those who caught sight of them.
They didn’t bother the grieving father and mother, the latter of whom was in a wheelchair with her arm in a sling, a cast on her foot and torment etched in her face.
Regardless of the occasion, and the privacy it should have earned, someone snapped shots of them.
They were all over social media within hours.
So going to that wee lass’s funeral hadn’t been the least bit fun, but it gave his woman some peace.
Even so, because of those photos, it would become a problem.
“Ye were faking it?”
That evening, Dair and Rix were in some room clearly designed for men to smoke cigars, drink port and scratch their balls. It was so masculine, even Dair felt overpowered by it.
They were there alone because, at first, Blake and Alex had some sister date they’d arranged that was just for the two of them. Not too long ago, though, they’d come and collected Ned to be a part of this date.
Leaving Dair and Rix.
“At first,” Rix replied to his question. “That’s how Alex and me began. And heads up, Chloe is a matchmaker. Judge told me, after our wedding, she’d shifted into ultrasonic gear, conniving with Nora and Mika on ways to get you two together. She said it was going to be her ultimate challenge, considering you both live in different countries. She was bummed when she found out you were already together before she could meddle.”
Dair chuckled.
“So, naturally, she’s shifted focus,” Rix continued. “That’s why she’s been shoving JT and Laird in your or Blake’s arms every chance she got.”
Dair chuckled at that as well, though this time, he spoke through it.
“Didnae miss that.”
“Yeah,” Rix said on a smile. “So back then, Chloe got wind that Alex told Blake that she and I were together, and I’d be coming as her plus one to her wedding because?—”
Abruptly, he stopped speaking.
“Because?” Dair prompted.
Rix cleared his throat and shifted his lounging position in the battered leather armchair that was such high quality when it was made, the battered part only made it more comfortable, the leather was like butter, and it smelled vaguely of cigar smoke, though Dair thought that added to its charm.
But Dair was confused.
