I needed to get away from her before I exploded.
“Arran.” She reached for me, but I jerked away.
Of course, people would draw conclusions—either that I was a player messing around with a good woman, or worse, I was a privileged White prick who wanted to sleep with a Black woman but didn’t want anyone else to know about it.
That was what Jared McCulloch thought, right?
“Arran—”
“Do you know what this makes me look like?” I bit out.
“It’s not my fault if he draws a conclusion like that. It’s 2022, Arran, not 1950. I mean, Heaven forbid, I would be the one pulling the strings here. Not the guy. Not the White guy.”
“Pulling the strings?”
She blanched. “I didn’t mean it—”
“I have to go.” I marched past her, my hands clenching into restless fists at my sides.
“Arran!”
I couldn’t do this anymore, I realized. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want more from her, from us. And I certainly fucking hated the conclusions people might draw if they knew we’d been hiding our relationship.
20
EREDINE
We hadn’t spoken in two days.
As angry as I was with Arran, I hated I hadn’t heard from him. I thought for sure he might come and apologize for being pissed about the conclusions Jared obviously drew in Flora’s alley. And then I could apologize for my seething jealousy at the sight of Arran hugging Monroe Sinclair in the middle of the village. It hadn’t looked like just a friendly hug. He had this tender expression on his face as he kissed the top of her head that had sparked my possessiveness.
It wasn’t my right to feel territorial. We had a deal. A deal mostly driven by me.
But I hated the history between him and Roe. I couldn’t help it.
To say my stomach was in knots as I pulled up outside Thane and Regan’s was an understatement. They were hosting family dinner, and while Arran and I had already made it through one so far without revealing what we were up to, I wasn’t prepared for this scenario. How did I pretend I wasn’t equal parts furious and scared he didn’t want to be with me anymore? Anytime I thought about what it would be like to not have permission to reach out and touch him, to kiss him, to feel him … it was like a sharp knife scoring right through me.
Oh, Lord. I’d really screwed up getting into this with him.
The Adair family were as rambunctious as ever as I walked into my friends’ house, Eilidh running to greet me, while Lewis argued with his dad about a video game. The adults all laughed and talked over one another as they set the table. Arran stood next to Arro, and whatever he said made her burst into laughter and shove him gently. He chuckled, delighted by her response, and my heart swelled.
Damn it.
As if he sensed me observing him, Arran looked across the room, and his amusement died.
Double damn it.
“Ery, I want to show you the swimsuit Mum bought me.”
“After dinner, Eils.” Regan came over to hug me. “Hey, come in, come in. How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you?”
We chitchatted as she led me over to everyone else, and I tried my best not to look at Arran. Robyn and Arro were comically growing their bellies in sync. They literally had what looked like almost the same size bump, which I knew had to be freaking out Mac and Lachlan.
“I’ll be the size of a house for the wedding next month,” Arro groaned after I told her how beautiful she and Robyn looked.
And they did. Arro’s morning sickness had abated, and she was feeling a lot better these days, which had also relaxed Mac a bit. Robyn was taking her pregnancy in enviable stride.
“You’re stunning,” Mac assured his fiancée as he came up behind her and placed his hands on her belly. She leaned back into him as he kissed the side of her face, and I felt another irritating pang flare inside me.
My curiosity took over, a mind of its own, as I watched Arran cross the room to intervene in the argument between Lewis and Thane. Once it was over, Arran looked over his shoulder at me.
I couldn’t read his expression.
Lowering my eyes, I turned to answer Robyn as she asked me what I thought of the novel we were reading for book club this month. I welcomed the distraction.
* * *
Eilidh dragged me outside before dinner to play with the miniature badminton set her parents bought last week. While my cutie pie was a beautiful dancer, not too shabby at soccer, and a fast runner, badminton wasn’t her game. But Eilidh persevered valiantly, determined to hit the shuttlecock.
We hadn’t been out there long when Arran appeared on the deck. My stomach flipped with an amalgam of emotions.