Page 18 of Madly Deeply

The evening wore on with stretches of laughter and tears, full of stories and promises to stay in touch. Alex found herself wondering, not for the first time, if she was making a mistake. These people were family—the kind of family that would help a child thrive. They understood what it was to love someone beyond death, beyond reason. They'd survived their own impossible love stories.

But when her eyes found Spreag's again, the wonderful kinship faded into the background. All she needed, all she’d ever needed, was him. And they needed privacy while their lives—her life—found a new normal.

Their home waited for them in Arizona. Their future—however strange—lay in the desert sun, not the Highland mist.

"We'll visit," Bronagh promised, squeezing her hand. "Soon after the child comes, yeah?"

"And ye'll come back," Duncan added. "Won't ye?"

"Of course." Alex smiled through tears. "They’ll need to get to know all their Culloden cousins.”

A chorus of "aye" went up around the table, and toasts were made to the future, to family, to love.

Since she’d already turned in her rental, Alex stood outside in the crisp night air while Shug brought his car around. Stars peeked through breaks in the clouds, and a gentle breeze carried the smell of the river.

"Ready for tomorrow?" Shug handed her into the car.

"I am.” She glanced at the pub's steamy windows and the faces barely visible within. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just fine.” Once he was seated behind the wheel, she thanked him for all he’d done for her.

"Auch, none of that now." He patted her shoulder. "Save the waterworks for the mornin’. I'll pick ye up at seven sharp."

CHAPTER TEN

The plane banked gently away from Scotland's coast, and Alexandra pressed her hand against the window in a silent farewell. Beside her, an empty seat held her mostly-opaque husband—a convenience provided by a queasy businessman who'd asked to move the moment she'd mentioned morning sickness.

The aisle seat was occupied by a young man in a hoodie with earphones in his ears. He looked terrified the one and only time he’d glanced at Alex before the plane took off. Shy or prejudiced, it didn’t matter. She could imagine how easily he might freak out if he noticed her talking to the empty chair between them, so she was careful to raise her phone to her mouth whenever she had something to say to Spreag. At least it would look like she was dictating.

"Good thing that bloke moved," Spreag murmured. "Though I'd have haunted him the whole flight if he hadn't."

Alex bit back a smile, remembering their flight from Scotland to New York nearly a year ago. The customs agent's suspiciousglare, the way Spreag had sworn never to travel in anything but denims again. His outrage.

"Never in all my years has amanasked what was under m' kilt!"

Now, watching Scotland and the Atlantic disappear beneath the clouds, she marveled at the difference between this journey and the one she’d dreaded during those dark days in the hotel room. She swore she’d never return to Arizona, not wanting to face their home and their lost dreams alone. Yet here she was, going home with him after all—just not in the way she'd wanted.

She wasn't complaining.

The flight attendant offered ginger ale, which she accepted gratefully. Morning sickness and air sickness were extremely close cousins.

"Remember the pros list?" Spreag asked as she sipped. "Duncan was right about the spyin'. I'll ken it for certain if anyone gives ye trouble. I'm just not sure, yet, how I can do aught about it."

"You are not spying on my colleagues."

"Not even that pompous architecture professor who keeps stealin' yer parking space?"

She pressed her lips together, fighting another smile. Their friends' pros and cons list had been brief, but the men had been most excited about Spreag’s ability to spy on her behalf. But the real advantages were things that hadn’t been listed. Like knowing that even though she couldn't touch him, she'd never have to face another sleepless night alone.

She closed her eyes, remembering their farewell party at the Black Isle Bar. Wyndham had insisted on one dance, and though his arms had been warm and solid, she'd imagined Spreag holding her instead. The way he used to, strong and sure, making her feel safe. Loved.

"I love you to the ends of the earth and back again," he whispered now, as if reading her thoughts.

"I know." She pretended to adjust her blanket so she could face him. "I just miss..."

"Aye, love. I’m just grateful for the warm memories we made. For they shall have to sustain us for a good long while."

The kidon the aisle blushed profusely when he had to let her out so she could go to the loo. She didn’t mind waiting in line because it gave her a break from his nervous glances. He watched her closely each time she crossed her legs, so she was pretty sure he was just intimidated. But thankfully, Spreag hadn’t noticed or he might have found a way to give the kid a black eye.

“Lord A’ Mighty!”

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