“Not everything is ominous, you know,” I teased. And immediately changed the subject. “You didn’t drive over today?”
Akiva sped upward ahead of us.
“Left my vehicle here last night and stayed with Quinn. We worked so late, I missed my safe crossing.”
“Oh. You know, I can always compensate you if you need to book a room somewhere.”
“It’s the height of the season and, anyway, there’s no need. I have Quinn’s place. You’re already paying toward accommodation for much of the crew.”
It was true. Quinn and Ramsay’s crew were men from all over the islands. Some ferried in and part of the fee I paid them covered the cost of accommodation for those guys during the week. “Okay.” I knew I shouldn’t, but I could feel the question vomiting up out of me before I could stop it. “How’s Ava?”
There. I sounded casual. Normal.
Even though the older brunette’s appearance had bothered me for days. Weeks, even. If Ramsay was avoiding me, I was avoiding him right back after Ava showed up.
I did not lust after other people’s partners.
At first, I didn’t think Ramsay was going to answer. Then he replied, “I don’t know. She was all right last time I saw her.”
“Oh.” Wow. Was that what he was like in a relationship? Ugh. Poor Ava.
“We’re not together,” he explained as if the words were torn from him. “I don’t do relationships.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I think Ava thinks you’re in a relationship.”
“Aye, noticed that, did you?” Ramsay scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck as we leveled out onto the driveway of my guesthouse. “That’s why I ended our casual … thing.”
Ah.
“I don’t do serious relationships or any kind of relationships.” He suddenly stopped, looking me directly in the eye as if he was warning me off. “I’m not that man. That’s not who I am.”
The little warmth that crept into my chest at the news he was single iced over. I looked away, staring out at the water, at the spectacular view of the Scottish coastline. “I used to think I knew exactly who and what I was.”
“And now?”
I shrugged. “You know, my maternal grandmother was Scottish.”
“Aye, you told me.”
“I’d visit her every year with my family. She died about a year after my grandfather passed. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to him, but I had time with my grandmother. I flew to Edinburgh for our last moment together.” Emotion thickened my throat, and I had to take a minute as I recalled the image of her lying in bed, so small and frail in contrast to the larger-than-life person I’d always known her to be. “I took her hand and confessed that I didn’t know who I was without her.” I wiped away my falling tears, looking back out at the water in an attempt to hide them.
“And … uh, she told me that lying in that bed was the first time in her life when she truly knew who she was. That moments and people had carved away at her every second of every day, like she was a lump of clay turning into a sculpture. And it was only now that her time was ending that she was complete. She promised me that one day it would be the same for me and that thinking you knew yourself could be a prison. That I should treat every day as a day I get to know a little more about who I am. It was just a day where the world sculpted another little piece of me.”
I turned back to him and found Ramsay staring at me with a pained expression I didn’t quite understand.
“How can you know everything you are when life hasn’t finished sculpting you yet?”
Ramsay seemed to truly consider my words. Then he cleared his throat, that penetrating wolf gaze piercing me to the soul. “I think while your grandmother was wise … it’s also true that who we are at the core never changes.”
“I think that’s true too. My mom grew up with money, but she was bullied as a kid, and it made her empathetic and kind. She didn’t judge people for what they had or didn’t have. She raised me that way. And no matter what life threw at her, that part of her never changed.” I smiled sadly, thinking about my mom who was the kindest human I’d ever known. “She made my dad a better person. He was the first to admit it.”
I chuckled remembering my mom’s smug, happy laugh when my dad told me the story of how they met. “My dad was on a first date with this famous supermodel the night he met my mom. I’ve seen pictures, and this woman was like otherworldly gorgeous. It was this international business awards thing in London, and Mom was there as an assistant to the events organizer. My dad watched as this guest accidentally poured red wine all over the host’s white dress before the event started. He said that the host was practically hysterical and suddenly, this pretty blond appeared out of nowhere, efficiently whisked the host away, and the next time he saw them both, the host was in the blond’s dress and the blond was in the stained white dress.”
“Your mother.”
I grinned. “Yeah. She swapped dresses. Dad said he watched her for the rest of the night, just doing her job and laughing off any comments about her appearance. He watched her perform little acts of kindness all night—like helping an elderly guest to the restroom. Covering up mistakes waitstaff made. He didn’t speak one word to her, but he knew he needed to know her.
“At the end of the night, he put his date in a cab and returned to the event to find my mom. He asked her out. Mom said she thought he was joking at first. She knew Dad was the heir to the Silver Group empire, and she was a sweaty mess in a stained white dress.” Realizing I might be boring Ramsay with my musings, I clamped my mouth shut and shrugged, feeling weirdly vulnerable.
