‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’
‘It is when you put yourself second.’
‘Says the man who spends his Saturdays at build-a-wee-bear and ballet class.’
‘Kids are different.’
I take a swallow of my beer. ‘I didn’t tell anyone else. Nat guessed. And she didn’t exactly say I need something else to focus on. She said I needed something else to worry about.’ And if didn’t that send a shiver of something unpleasant rolling down my spine, I don’t know what did.
‘Nat? That’s the blonde wi’ the massive.. .’ Keir brings his hands to his chest, seeming to change his mind about the suitability of the gesture. ‘Isn’t she one of your sister’s mates?’
‘She is.’ Swallowing again, I then add, ‘But it isn’t the same. I didn’t meet Natasha until recently, where Fin practically grew up in our house.’ It’s no wonder she thinks of me as she does. Pity I’ve never returned the sentiment. Thoughts of what could have been plague me daily.
‘Have you and her... ?’
‘We went out once, but we hadn’t even finished our first drink when she guessed about Fin.’ Nat says June, her mad wee granny, is a touch psychic. It must be a family trait ’cause my own family has always been oblivious to my feelings where Fin is concerned.
‘Pity,’ Keir says into his pint. ‘She’s some woman.’
‘If you’re into that sort of thing.’ Tall, blonde, and striking, Nat favours tiny clothes in a look that’s pure sex kitten.Booty shorts and stripper heels.But you can’t judge a book by its cover. Not where that woman is concerned. And as she says herself, it’s just as well she found out about Fin before I got her knickers off because at least now we can be friends.
‘So the pair of you still talk?’
‘Aye. It’s a novel experience. I’ve never had a girl friend before. One or two girlfriends but never without a bit o’ hochmagandy in between.’
‘Hochma— How old are you? A hundred and fucking two?’
‘You don’t use the F-word about women you’re related to. Or pals with.’
‘You and your Boy Scout notions,’ he says, chuckling.
‘Even Boy Scouts have dirty thoughts. I’ll remind you of that when your wee lass is grown.’
‘She’ll be living in a convent by then,’ he adds prosaically. ‘Isn’t Nat a wee bit ... off the wall?’
‘As nutty as a fruitcake. Auchkeld, the village I’m from? It seems to breed that kind of doolally.’ I remember Fin once saying the Scots don’t believe in hiding crazy. Instead, they pour it a cuppa and invite it to pull up a chair. I sigh heavily—not with the recollection but rather with the thoughts of her.‘It must be the lack of sun or something,’ I mumble, realising Keir’s watching me carefully.
‘What I’ve learned is, you can tell a lot about a Scottish woman by her hands.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Like how, if they’re around your throat, she’s none too pleased with you.’
‘Your ex was’nae Scots, was she?’ I ask, chuckling. Not that he needs to answer; I know she wasn’t. ‘And I can see Nat being into strangling,’ I add. Unfortunately, she seems to have a lack of filter when it comes to her sexual exploits.
‘How’d you meet her?’
‘She’s the manager of the beauty salon Ivy owns back home since her arsehole of a husband moves her backwards and forwards between Scotland and the States.’
I’m probably being unfair to him. Like I give a flying fuck.
‘Married to Dylan Duffy, isn’t she?’ His name usually inspires starry eyes and many questions. Not that I’d expect that from Keir, but it’s something I don’t talk about much.
‘She is.’ And she did so without breathing a word to her family for months.Bitter? Me? Just a bit.
‘But you can’t wave a blow dryer for a living when you’re married to a superstar.’
I shrug because he’s right. It’s just that the way their marriage came to light left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. In fact, all coupledom pisses me off right now.
