‘Fuck, I’m sorry.’ Softly closing the locket, Sean placed it back against her collarbone. He pressed his hands a little firmer into her back. A protective hold that softened the edges of that need in her. ‘I know what it’s like to lose your dad, although I did have mine for thirty-two years.’
While it was sad that he’d lost his father, it was a comfort that he understood her pain. ‘I don’t think it’s easy whenever you lose them, especially if you were close…’ she said. ‘Were you?’
‘Mmm, aye.’ Sean’s focus drifted to something across the ballroom. ‘Losing him was like losing a limb. He taught me to surf, kind of a metaphor for everything else in life – the best stuff is hard won and all that.’ He dipped his chin and brought his focus to her again. ‘He was a good man; watching him go was horrendous.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Thanks. Were you and your dad close?’
‘We were. Because he retired early, he always had time for me. I was his shadow. We grew veggies and plants on his allotment, fed the ducks, learned about birds andbutterflies. He taught me to play poker. I was likeCherry the Champion of the World.’ She laughed at the comparison to one of her favourite books, for the way it idyllically captured her memories.
‘He sounds like a good guy… What about your mum? You have a similar relationship?’
Cherry brushed some invisible lint from the white cotton shirt covering Sean’s remarkably muscular shoulder – an action she realised was something her mum had done to her dad. ‘“Get on” might be a bit strong. As long as we don’t spend too much time together, it’s civil. I love her but, my God, we’re different.’
‘She’s not a poker player then?’
Cherry would need to be careful not to rant about her mum.Keep it brief, keep it upbeat.‘No. She’s Pamela Paradise, Mystic and Colour Consultant – and that’s for your wardrobeoryour aura. When my dad died, she absorbed herself in reading people’s futures with tarot cards, telling them not to wear pumpkin because they’re “a winter” and stuff like that. Just as well she lives in Scotland and I travel around the States. We’re better thousands of miles apart.’
‘You’re actually selling her to me; she sounds fun. And I detect a fair bit of love for her in your voice.’
Slowly, Cherry blinked, not giving too much away. Who was this guy with his astute observations, seeing into her very soul?
‘Are you on the road a lot?’ he asked.
‘A bit too much.’ She tried to maintain a reasonable distance from Sean, not to press too close, stay cool and detached, but the heat of him drew her in. ‘Poker is losing its edge. Or I’m losing mine. I have these dreams about going back to Scotland…pinning my kids’ macaroni art to the fridge…cooking hearty casseroles, even though I can’t cook for shit, or meet a decent man to have said kids with.’
Sean’s mouth curved upwards – she could tell at her honesty rather than her circumstance. ‘Do you need a man for that stuff?’ he asked.
The volume of Cherry’s laughter turned the heads of several people dancing nearby. ‘Okay, where is your mother? I need to thank her for raising you and ask her permission to marry you.’
‘It’s true though, right?’ His expression was so sinfully earnest that she could have kissed him there and then.
‘It is mainly true. But it’s not all about biology. I’d like someone to be part of the journey.’
‘And your ex. He’s…?’
‘An alcoholic. Still plays poker, badly. Drinks too much and sways around tables, putting people off their game. There are reasons he’s like that, but it’s hard to sympathise when he’s such an arse to people, me included.’
Sean sighed, pulling her a little closer, the rough wool of his kilt brushing her leg. ‘Alcohol is a fucker. My uncle Archie was an alcoholic. Drinking killed him, lost him his wife to his brother and left a permanent mark on our family. His sons – my brothers – are lucky to have grown up with our dad. We were all lucky…’
Cherry caught the tendon in his jaw flexing as he trailed off.‘You okay?’ She was glad for the focus to be drawn away from her.
‘Aye... Aye.Cal is the first of my siblings to get married, and we’re doing it without my dad. All a bit weird, but it’s not meant to be a time of me sobbing into my whisky or, even worse, your whisky.’
‘Sob into my whisky all you like.’ She imagined drawing her glass under his chin, like with buttercups in the schoolplayground. If it weren’t for the neat brush of stubble, the golden glow of the drink would surely reflect off his skin.
Sean smiled. ‘I’d rather focus on moving forward and making things better for other people. My siblings and I are cycling a hundred miles down the Kintyre Way in September for an MND charity.’
‘That’s incredible.’ A philanthropist too. This man kept on giving. ‘I can’t wait to meet them.’
And she’d said the right thing because Sean’s face illuminated. ‘No time like now,’ he declared. ‘Come on…’ He tugged her away from the dance floor into a whirlwind of Butler siblings.
Cherry tried her best to remember the names. There was Cal, a bar owner, and his new wife – a stunning redhead – Bea. Jamie, the second eldest and CEO of Butler’s whisky. Niall was a keen surfer, like Sean, and his partner in crime as teenagers. And then came the triplets: chilled vet Nate, exuberant actress Cara and Eilidh, a teacher, who seemed possessed of an untamed energy. Clearly a lot of alcohol had been consumed, but handshakes and hugs were offered. The only person Sean didn’t introduce was his mother. But that was fine because meeting the mother was the big gun.
‘Did you know,’ Cherry said as they danced again, ‘that there was this psychological study in the nineties where the participants asked one another a list of questions, stared into each other’s eyes for three minutes and some of them fell in love?’
Sean leaned in, everything else fading out again as his voice vibrated in her ear. ‘I didn’t, but go on…ask away.’
