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Even that reflection didn’t hurt him, though. Not now. It seemed a lifetime ago—almost as though it had happened to two different people.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she said, coming to stand beside him, so close they were almost touching.

“It always is at this time of year.”

Silence. He frowned, wondering if she’d come looking for him deliberately, or had just happened to step onto the terrace and see him there?

“Do you miss it?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I didn’t think so.”

“But now you’ve been back?”

It was something he was still trying to understand. “It’s complicated.”

“Because of Ewan and me?”

He glanced down at her, frowning. Did she really want to have this conversation? Her eyes probed his, eyes that were so familiar to him.

“Do you miss me?” she asked, softly, in a tone that was filled with pain.

“What are you doing, Cressida?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“No, it’s not. Nothing about that is simple,” he responded with honesty, and a hint of frustration. “You’re married to my brother.”

“I know.”

“You cheated on me with him.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“You fell in love with him.”

“I loved you, too.”

He felt as though he’d been punched.

“I loved both of you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found out. If we hadn’t been followed. Maybe Ewan and I would have gotten this out of our systems.”

Hamish made a strangled sound of surprise. “So you could marry me?”

“Marriage is about more than sex. You and I—were good together.”

He drew his brows together. “Better than you and Ewan?” He hated himself for asking but there was a small part of him that still needed to hear her admit that.

She bit down on her lip and belatedly he remembered the wine she’d consumed at dinner. It wasn’t fair to push her to make that sort of admission when she was under the influence of alcohol.

But Cressida said, “Better than you and Tia.” It was the wrong thing to say because for the first time, Hamish saw how utterly wrong that was. He and Cressida had made the sort of sense he’d been raised to think mattered. Every step had seemed logical and right. One thing had led to the other and he had loved her, but he now saw that it wasn’t the sort of love epic poems were written about, the sort of love Hollywood movies painted. He’d loved the promise of their future, the thought of what they could build and share together but he wasn’t sure they’d ever truly worked.

“You fell in love with Ewan,” was all he said. “You’re married to him.”

“And you’re married to her,” she snapped. “Some woman none of us have met or even heard of. You don’t think it’s poor form to dump her in our laps like this?”

Definitely drunk. And emotional.

“You’re upset,” he said, after a beat. “But it’s not about Tia, and it’s not about me.” He knew he was right, because he knew Cressida. “I’m sorry to hear about Ewan’s infertility.”