He smiles at my mother, then turns the full force of his forest colored eyes on me, and I feel my knees weaken. “I hear you’ll be interning with the MacTavish legal department this summer.”
“I’m very excited about it,” I try not to gush. “Where else can I get experience in six different branches of law in one internship?”
“Ach, they’ll work ye half to death,” he chuckles. “It’s a brutal group.”
My chin goes up. “I can take it.”
His voice drops a register, “I have no doubt of it, lass.”
Oh god oh god oh god…My lower half goes up in flames. That should not sound so sexual.
I’d give anything for him to say it again.
We stare at each other for a moment, the laughter and chattering from the family fading away until Celia loudly clears her throat, making me jump.
“Don’t forget Maisie’s bouquet, darling.”
Michael gives me one last thoughtful look, head tilted, before turning to Maisie and handing her a similar bouquet. “And for my brilliant, clever sister.”
“Thank ye, brother!” Maisie throws her arms around his neck, giving him a big, smacking kiss and smearing her lipstick on his cheek.
“Ye slimed me again, dinnae ye?” he says, touching the mark.
“It never gets old,” she agrees.
“Oh, sweetheart, such a mess!” Celia coos as she hastily rips open her Birken bag. “Here’s a tissue.”
“Fer feck’s sake, why dinnae just pee on him and make it official?” Daisy mumbles. There’s a stifled snort from Maisie and I link arms with Mom, looking down before she catches me rolling my eyes.
“Sophie love, Mala invited us to celebrate your graduation with the family,” Mom says, sweetly oblivious to our petty little exchange.
“Aye,” Maisie agrees. “Da’s booked out the entire restaurant at The Witchery Hotel. It’s going to be grand! Ye want to join us, Daisy?”
“I’d give my right tit,” she says morosely. “But my folks came down from Inverness to take me out. Next time, aye?”
Maisie hugs her, whispering something that makes them both cackle while I hope my mother didn’t hear Daisy's comment as she walks ahead with Mala.
“There’s a smile,” Maisie says. “That can only mean ye dinnae hear that Lady Resting Bitch Face is joining us for dinner.”
My heart sinks. Why? It doesn’t have anything to do withyou,I scold myself. You're the housekeeper’s daughter. He’s twelveyears older and soon to be Chieftain. He’s never seen you as more than Maisie’s friend.
Shifting my giant bouquet of flowers to my other arm, I say, “That sounds like she and Michael are getting serious, then, if she’s joining a family dinner?”
“More like she invited herself, and Mum is too nice to tell her to bugger off,” Maisie grumbles.
I’m always moved by how close the MacTavishes are.
There’s a crowd of them tonight at The Witchery restaurant, laughing and offering toasts, which get increasingly ridiculous as the night wears on.
“What did you say Arabella calls you all?” I ask Maisie.
“MacTavi,” she laughs, downing a shot as Arabella’s husband Logan finishes a long, meandering justification about how it was perfectly logical that he broke down the door of one of the suites upstairs here at the hotel when their cousin Wallace asked him and Ethan to look after his new bride Scarlett for the night.
Wallace and Scarlett’sweddingnight, which seems all kinds of awkward, but looking at Wallace now, gazing down at his wife with utter devotion, proves that it worked out.
I try not to be envious, I truly do. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever find a man who could love me with the same devotion the MacTavish men have for their wives. Despite multiple sketchy beginnings, every one of them had their happily ever after.
“It must be nice,” I muse to Maisie. “Having so many people to love. Who love you.”
