Page 97 of Kilt Trip

Or a half life. A concession. A surrender.

Logan tipped his head back and closed his eyes against the flickering fluorescent light. “I never wanted a compromise. I wanted it all.” He let the double meaning linger in the air.

With a heavy breath, she braced herself against the table, as if it was the only thing keeping her on her feet. “All the things I know you love about the itineraries are in there. I added some touristy spots, but you’ve seen that they’re not that bad.”

Logan didn’t give a flying fuck about the merits of tourist traps. He stood, bracing his hands on the table. “Were you just humoring me with the heritage tours? Trying to distract me while you did your real job?”

“Of course not. I believe in those tours.”

“Then, why won’t you stand by them?” he roared.

“What am I supposed to do? Defy my boss? Turn down work my company needs? You of all people should understand the sacrifices that go into building a business. Dawsey needs a fighting chance at stability, too.” She rubbed at her collarbone, her eyes dropping. “There’s no time left. I have to be in Amsterdam next week.”

Logan sank back into his seat.

She was leaving.

She was always leaving.

“Bags packed already? Need a lift to the airport, or were you planning to sneak out in the night?”

“Logan.”

“Let me guess. You didn’t get a chance to talk to Marc about working from here.”

Her eyes shuttered. The silence quaked through him.

“I want to build a life with you, but you make all your plans, all your decisions, alone. Were you going to ask him? Or was that just a line to appease me, too?”

“I would never do that.”

“How do I know? You give me table scraps of yourself, Addie. You keep everything else to yourself.” All the yearning in the world couldn’t change that. “I’m not chasing you around the globe.”

Someone else could play Where in the World Is Addie Macrae? but he wouldn’t put himself through it.

“You said you wouldn’t change your mind about us,” she reminded him, seal eyes brimming.

“About a fantasy of what we were. But that was clearly never real.”

“It is real.” Her breath came in short gasps.

Logan shook his head and gripped his hair until the pain stung. “It’s not real if you won’t share your life with me. Christ, Addie, you’ve fought this the entire time. Things are always on your terms. I’ve walked on eggshells, unable to tell you how I feel because you bolt at the first sign of real emotion. You have people in your life who want a relationship with you but you’re too afraid to let yourself feel anything. You think this life is freedom—this constant traveling, never connecting—but it’s a fortress. And it’s of your own doing. You’re no different from your dad.”

Addie gasped and pulled back. “How dare you.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. You got hurt so you shut people out. I try and try to prove to you that I will stand by you, to show you how much I care, but you shut me out, too. I’m done. I can’t spend another day trying to force you to be someone you’re not.” He had to get out of there before he imploded. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Grabbing his jacket, he smashed down the stairs, leaving Addie slumped in a chair, her hand over her mouth.

He closed his heart to her.

The street was empty and drizzly. Logan shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered aimlessly in the cold. He couldn’t go to his flat where his sheets smelled like flowers. He couldn’t even go to the shore. The Firth would only remind him of the plunge they’d taken where Addie stuck a toe in the water and he misjudged and threw himself into the sea.

Maybe that was an idea.

41

The steaming shower only exacerbated the balloons under Addie’s eyes, heavy from holding in tears. And the lavender soap did nothing to soothe her—she couldn’t even smell it through her stuffed-up nose. She tied her wet hair into a topknot and slapped on undereye masks before heading to the kitchen.

---