“What do ye feel?”
“Confused, mostly.” Iris picked a sprig of lavender. “One moment he’s impossible, cold and distant. The next, he’s different. Warmer. Like there’s another person beneath that icy exterior.”
“Men are strange creatures. Especially Highland lairds.”
“It’s nae just that.” Iris sank onto a stone bench. “Do ye want to ken the worst part?”
“What’s that?”
“I think I’m becomin’ attached to him. To Codie. To this whole impossible situation.” The admission hurt. “And that terrifies me because what if it all falls apart? What if I’m just foolin’ meself into thinkin’ this could actually work?”
“Why would it fall apart?”
“Because nothin’ good ever lasts for me. Me parents made that clear enough. I’m too much of everythin’ wrong and nae enough of anythin’ right. Malcolm proved it.” Iris looked down at the crushed lavender in her hands. “And now here I am, married to a man who only wed me because his actual choice ran away.”
“Can I tell ye what I see?”
“What?”
“I see a woman who’s found somethin’ precious, maybe for the first time in her life, and she’s terrified of losin’ it.”
“I’m nae terrified.”
“Are ye nae?” Mairie’s voice was gentle. “Because it sounds to me like ye’re so busy protectin’ yerself from potential hurt that ye’re missin’ what’s right in front of ye.”
“And what’s that?”
“A husband who looks at ye like ye hung the moon. A child who’s already callin’ ye mother in his heart. A place where ye’re needed and valued.” Mairie paused. “But I think there’s somethin’ else botherin’ ye too.”
“What?”
“The way ye reacted when ye mentioned Lydia earlier. The way yer whole body tensed.” Mairie tilted her head. “If yer sister hadnae run away, if she’d gone through with the marriage, how would ye feel right now?”
The question hit like an arrow. Iris tried to imagine it. Lydia here, tending to Codie, sleeping in Elijah’s bed, building this life.
The image made her want to break something.
“I’d be jealous.”
“Aye. I thought so.” Mairie’s smile was knowing. “Ye ken what I think?”
“What?”
“I think ye’re jealous of the idea of yer sister havin’ this life instead of ye. For the first time in yer life, ye have somethin’ that’s yers alone, nae shared with yer perfect twin, and ye want to keep it.”
“I’m nae threatened by me own sister.”
“Are ye nae? Then why did yer hands just clench into fists?”
Iris looked down. Her hands had curled tight without her realizing. She forced them to relax.
“I daenae want to be jealous of Lydia. She’s me sister. Me twin.”
“Ye can want her to be happy and still be glad she’s nae here takin’ what’s yers.” Mairie squeezed her hand. “Jealousy means ye care. And carin’ means ye’re already half in love, whether ye want to admit it or nae.”
Iris stared at her friend as the words sank in.
Half in love. Am I?
