“Are they grandma and—”
“Nae, Mia,” I sigh. “Da and yer mam will talk toye about it later.”
Mia’s bottom lip curls under. “Awww, I wish theywasmy grandma and grandpa. Get more gifts!”
“No, sweetheart. They’re a bit older than my—” Chevelle’s voice has dropped in volume with each word. Clearing her throat, she continues, “Than my parents would’ve been.”
The candlelight flickers across our daughter’s curious gaze. “You got parents, Mommy?”
“Mia,” I reply, “everyone has parents.”
“It’s okay, Leith. The conversation was bound to come up one day. Yes, honey, everyone has parents.”
“Where, Mommy?” Mia glances around.
“My momma’s in heaven, though Dad went straight to Hell.”
Our lassie’s eyes grow round. She sucks in a lung full of air. I never thought I’d see the day Mia was speechless, but she gawks at the two of us. Mam sprangHeavenandHellon Mia a while back. I can honestly say I’d never argued with Mam until that very second. The muscles beneath my jaw ribbon. I’m stuck between the rainbows and butterfly worldview I prefer for our daughter and the nightmare tormenting my wife.
“Sorry,” Chevelle murmurs, conscious of my wishes not to introduce such a topic to her.
“We make the rules together, hen,” I reply, grazing her earlobe with my lips. A fissure separates the love I have for my wife and the hurt she refuses to share.
The server arrives. Recalling my threats, Mia has zipped her lips. Normally, they have a routine where Mia asks about the daily special. She just gets too excited, is all.
I nod to the waiter. “Mia, ask yer questions.”
With one last look at her mom, Mia diverts to a prim tone. “What’s on the menu today, doc?”
“Well, Ms. MacKenzie . . .”
As they commence the usual exchange, my little beautiful lassie blossoms, giggling about the wordhalibut.
I take that as my cue to return to Chevelle. “We need to talk later, hen.”
She whispers back, “Shouting and fucking-talking or, talkingtalking?Take into consideration my apology, Leith. Our daughter’s nosy, I slipped up.”
I reach an arm over her shoulder and make like I’m fluffing her hair. “Chevelle, ye and I are the showrunners of that there weewean. So, nae need to apologize. As far as a slipup, I’ll support ye, be a bloody repeat offender, hen—tonight with me.”
Lifting a glass of wine, Chevelle hides a contrite grin. “About the Heaven and Hell debate? Leith, your parents are religious. Apparently, my super awesome, attentive father had a similar conviction, and seeing how Momma chose a preacher man to—”
“Much as I’d love to have this discussion withye, not here, hen.” Clearing my throat, I listen as Mia and the waiter discuss which red wine is best with the ridiculous priced entrée she won’t be having anyway. “Ye wanna open up? Good. Ye’re my best friend. Ye will share with me tonight.Believe that.”
“What happened tohen?” Chevelle has no right biting her lip as she argues. Incensed, I reach over and bite it too.
My teeth sink into her soft flesh, and her body deflates against me. I whisper,“Ye happened.” Then I cut into Mia’s chatter since the waiter’s polite way of humoring her will come out of my pockets later.
* * *
At home,in a joint effort, we rally our curious lassie to bed. The raw energy Mia exerted while out, combined with the dessert she consumed, has her tearing through the house. Sometime much later, Chevelle and I are out beneath the stars. Chevelle sits at the edge of the pool, dangling her feet into the heated water. I remove my loafers and pull up the legs of my britches while settling beside her.
“Ye know, if I wore my kilt everywhere, thisshitewould be a lot easier.”
“Oh, so it has come to this?” She arches a brow, the turquoise water reflecting in her dark eyes. “Same old jokes?”
Exhaling, I rub the bridge of my nose. “Shite, I’ve told ye before, hen, I’m bound to resort to an auld joke or two over our lifetime. And my kilt ones are the best.”
“They were some best sellers back in the day. Now, you’re grown-man sexy, so I’ll only tell you this once.” She pauses for effect. “You pull that kilt out in the bedroom anytime you like, not during outings. Some ladies might see those toned, nicely tanned legs—unlike any other white guy I know—and try to steal you from me.”