“Lena does keep calling me Lord Kincaid,” I muttered. “Ormy liege.”
Locke smirked. “Is that only when you’re in bed or?—”
“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” I warned.
He snickered. I never should have told them about me and Lena, but I’d had a hard time keeping quiet when my friends had messaged to ask how things were going.
“Kidding, man,” Locke said. “We’re happy for you. Lena’s great. And I mean, you’re already married, why not have a good time?”
“But tell me,” Alistair said, “has she seen you in a kilt yet?”
I shoved at them both as we walked through the festival, two rows of booths rising up on either side of us.
“Oi, are those the same pies we nicked when we were kids?” Locke said, his tone filled with amusement.
“Where?” Alistair asked.
Locke pointed ahead to a booth ladened with pies, sausage rolls, and Scotch eggs.
“Ah, yes,” Locke said, throwing his arms over both our shoulders. “Old Liam McGregor. Now this brings back memories.”
A flicker shifted across Alistair’s face. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close, chasing away the heaviness of stress that seemed to be carved into his features these days.
“Don’t make eye contact,” I muttered. “The man has not forgottennorhas he forgiven us. He brought it up during our very first committee meeting.”
Alistair huffed a laugh. “He’s been sitting on that for a good twenty years, huh?”
“Should probably throw the poor guy a tenner and make it right,” Locke said. “I don’t need that kind of crime weighing down my conscience.”
At his words, Alistair stiffened, and a bead of regret caught in my chest. I knew Locke hadn’t meant to bring up the turmoil Alistair was currently experiencing, but I wasn’t sure ignoring itwas the right answer either. The guy clearly needed someone to lean on right now. The tabloid stories were worse than ever, and there were whispers of a legal battle brewing between him and the board.
“Sorry, man,” Locke muttered, clapping him on the shoulder. “I didn’t mean?—”
“S’fine,” Alistair said, sighing heavily.
“Any updates on Jessica?” I asked, already suspecting the answer. If he’d managed to track down his cheating, money-stealing ex, I’m certain he would have said something.
Alistair shook his head. “Not a single lead, according to the police. I’ve employed a private investigator, but I’m not hopeful that’ll turn anything up. I’m certain she’s well and truly disappeared.”
“And the board?—”
“Wants answers,” he said. “They want someone to pay.”
“Do you really think it’s going to come to a lawsuit?” I asked.
Alistair rubbed his hand down his face. “That’s what my solicitors keep telling me. They’re preparing, and I’m trying not to let myself spiral. I want to be here for Kenna. It’s a lot to have to explain to a toddler where her mother went.”
“Anything we can do?” Locke asked. “Seriously, man. Anything? You want me to join the hunt for Jessica myself, I’ll do it.”
Alistair huffed a humorless laugh. “How about you join the kilted dash? For old times’ sake.”
Locke laughed. “Unfortunately for you, I forgot my kilt.”
“Eh, I’m sure we can find one around here for you to borrow,” I said.
“That…sounds like something I definitely don’t want to do,” Locke said.
“You did sayanything,” Alistair pointed out. “And it’s Kenna’s first festival. I think you should impress upon her the importance of tradition.”
