When I left Nick, he’d already erased so many of my belongings. I’d had a huge record collection back in New York because I loved listening to music on an actual record player. Something I apparently had in common with Murray.
Since I couldn’t have my records and I couldn’t afford the kind of decent record player and sound system Murray obviously had, I’d bought a Bluetooth speaker that connected to my phone because I streamed all my music now. It seemed the safest way not to lose all the music I collected.
While I might not have records, I had a few knickknacks and books that I’d bought over the last six months since Taran had moved out.
My chest squeezed as I gazed into the house that had become my refuge these past sixteen months. Where I trauma-bonded with Taran and felt less alone. We’d also had our fair share of horror here last year when we were held at gunpoint in the living room and a man bled out on the carpet, which had obviously been replaced since.
Funny how, despite how significant that event was, it didn’t wipe out all the other memories I’d made here.
I was afraid to leave.
Afraid of what the future truly held for me in Murray Shaw’s house as his wife.
While I was ninety-nine percent sure I could trust Murray, there would always be that little one percent of doubt and fear I couldn’t shake until I’d spent enough time with the guy.
Though, from the way he treated me like glass that was about to shatter, I was almost certain I’d have to worry more about his ability to pretend to be my loving husband than him ever violating my personal space.
With a heavy sigh filled with a multitude of concerns, I stepped backward out of the bungalow door, pulling it shut. My fingers trembled as I locked it and turned down the path toward my SUV.
This was it.
The start of my new life.
Again.
The tide gently caressed the coast as twilight cast Murray’s house in its navy and orange glow. It had taken me a little while to get used to how long daylight lasted on the island during the spring and summer months. They were shorter during winter, which could be difficult, a little depressing after a while, so I preferred the longer days.
Murray appeared around the side of the house, lit up by my headlights as I pulled to a stop. He must have been waiting for me. As I shut off the engine, he walked to the driver’s side to open the door for me.
“Hey,” I greeted breathlessly as I got out. The butterflies in my belly rioted again.
Murray glanced into the back of the SUV where I’d flattened the seats to get my two suitcases in. I’d arrived in Scotland eighteen months ago with barely any luggage, but I quickly had to buy island-appropriate clothing and shoes. My parents had cut me off when I decided to train to be a chef rather than go to college. However, they couldn’t cut me off from my trust fund, and while I’d used some of it to put myself through culinary school, I’d been frugal with the rest of it. Nick hadn’t even known I still had any money left.
Nee had offered me a ridiculous bloated salary to work at the B and B, and I’d rejected it until she came to me with something that didn’t make me feel like I was taking advantage. I had what was left in my trust fund to cover me in an emergency and I’d dipped into it to rebuild my wardrobe for life on Glenvulin.
“This everything?” Murray asked.
“Almost. I’ll need to go back after work tomorrow to pick up a couple of boxes.”
Murray’s brows drew together at that, but he didn’t respond other than to open the trunk (orbootas the Scots called it) and haul out my luggage.
“I can get the other …” I gaped after him as he easily carried both suitcases toward the house. “Or not.” Snorting to myself, I closed the trunk, grabbed my purse, and locked up the car.
The sound of the water was lovely and soothing, and a little bubble of excitement popped inside me at the realization this beautiful house would be my home for the foreseeable future.
Murray was waiting for me in the huge entrance hall, my suitcases at his side.
He looked exhausted and a bit strained.
Remembering he said he’d contact his lawyer today about the marriage certificate, I asked as I closed the door behind me, “How did the call with your lawyer go?”
He gave me a grim nod. “Jill is cut off. She called me an hour after my solicitor contacted her solicitor to let them know. Jill screeched and threatened me and basically had an adult-sized temper tantrum.”
Disgust at his ex curled my lip. “Murray, I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
“It’s Kelly I’m worried about. Jill said she’s applying for sole custody.”
“Not going to happen,” I reassured him. “You’ll get Kelly away from her before that ever happens.”
