Of course, the circumstances were rather different. For one thing, we weren’t dropping an engagement bombshell on him. I’d taken my ring off when I went to the bathroom at Locke’s to wash my hands, and I thought it would be best to leave it off.
I wasn’t sure Locke had been in the mood to stumble through an explanation, either owning up to the fake relationship or having to double down in order to save face.
After dinner, we said goodbye to Graeme then returned to Locke’s place and immediately fell into bed together. The desire thrumming between us had been almost palpable, and it was all I could do to hold myself together as we’d stripped out of our clothes. Now though, I was cozily stretched out beside him on his massive king bed, reliving bits and pieces of the evening. “I liked getting to know your dad,” I said, running my hand along Locke’s bare chest. “It was sweet how interested he was in my photography.”
Locke kissed my temple. “I think he got a little starstruck finding out you were Aileen MacRae’s daughter.” He stroked his hand down my arm, and the motion felt strange. Almost…distant.
It was the same feeling I’d gotten from him at dinner. The more I’d told Graeme about our time together in Braeburn—exploring the trails near the waterfall, the shenanigans that came from babysitting Aisling, hanging out at the estate with Weston and Lena—the more stand-offish Locke had become. His arm had curled away from my shoulders, fidgeting instead with a straythread near his knee. The affectionate squeezes I was used to all but disappeared, and whenever he participated in the conversation, he kept steering it back to business.
Which had felt a little odd.
Part of me wondered if he was embarrassed. Perhaps he didn’t usually share details about his dating life with his father, and me talking so freely about our relationship had been awkward for him. “Do you and your dad spend a lot of time together when you’re in Edinburgh?” I asked.
I knew from our previous conversations that Locke had worked side by side with his dad for years, and that they still chatted about the business frequently. But was there anything more to their relationship? I remembered him saying he wasn’t exactlyclosewith either of his parents, but Graeme had seemed to really care about his son—to want a closer relationship. All the time Locke spent turning the conversation to business, Graeme kept turning it back to us, wanting to hear more.
“Not a lot,” Locke admitted. “We go out for the occasional drink when I need to pick his brain. Sometimes I’ll invite him out to lunch with a long-standing client. But I’m usually so busy coming and going that fitting in the occasional call is the best we can do.”
“Were you closer when you were a boy?” I wondered.
Locke stuffed one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. “I suppose I was more my mother’s son back then. Dad and I weren’t really tight. Probably because he was on the work grind all the time.”
Work grind.I hummed. The two of them shared more than just looks.
“Anyway,” Locke continued, “we didn’t really have anything to connect over. We were never one of those father/son pairs who go camping all the time or travel all over to catch their footy team’s games. He was all about the business, and I wasn’t all that interested in talking about market demand or construction challenges when I was a kid.”
“No,” I teased. “You were more interested in figuring out how to climb a tree faster than Weston and Alistair.”
He huffed a laugh, the sound turning hollow at the end. “But after Mum ran off with that younger guy, Dad and I sort of gravitated toward each other. Her midlife crisis pushed us together, and once I was out of uni and started working with him, the business became the glue. So I suppose in that regard, we’re closer now than we’ve ever been.”
“You don’t seem to share much about your private life with him,” I noted. I was gentle with my probing, trying not to tread too heavily while also trying to understand what made their relationship tick.
Locke sighed. “I guess I just want him to know I’m taking things seriously. That he left Fraser Developments in good hands when he retired, and I’m not going to mess it up.”
How would he mess it up? There’d always be deals that fell apart and PR nightmares with heritage societies. That came with the territory of running a property development business, didn’t it? But that didn’t mean he wasn’t doing a good job.
“Dad taught me a lot,” Locke said. “About life. About weathering a storm. About maintaining your course and staying focused even when the world is falling apart around you. My mum’s betrayal must have killed him, but he held it together—he neverlet it get in the way of doing his job, being responsible, making sure everything was taken care of.”
I swallowed hard, feeling a pang of sadness for Graeme. What he’d probably needed most during that time was someone to tell him it was okay to take a step back. That it was okay to hurt and mourn the loss of his relationship—and, moreover, that opening up to his son about what he was feeling might help them both grieve and move on. He probably thought he was protecting Locke by acting like everything was fine, business as usual, but I couldn’t help thinking that keeping up that facade had probably done some real damage to them both.
“It’s important to me to keep that legacy going.” Locke’s hand shifted beneath the covers, seeking out my belly.
I nodded, smiling as he mentioned legacy. “You sound like Weston when he talks about his grandad’s legacy.”
“It’s a lot like that,” Locke agreed. “Fraser Developments is a company built on hard work and dedication. And that’s what I want to model for the next generation. I want this baby to see me putting my all into this company, making its success a priority, just like their grandad before me.”
I opened my mouth, and for a beat nothing came out. Locke picked up on the fact that I was uneasy, because he was quick to reassure me. “I’m not going to insist on the baby joining the business. I want them to have a good work ethic, but I’ll support wherever that takes them. And my work now to keep the business strong will ensure our baby has all the resources they need to…I don’t know. Be an astronaut or cure cancer or design boats or something.”
I smiled and tried to relax. Itwasgood to hear that he wasn’t going to force our kid into real estate if it didn’t interest them—but was that what he really saw as his role as a dad? To provide financially—full stop? Sure, that was important, but there was more to being a parent than buying things. What about rescuing them from monsters under the bed, and teaching them to ride a bike, and never missing a performance of their deeply terrible school plays? What about showing up as a parent in a way that went beyond a checkbook?
My smile fell away as I realized how different that was from the way Weston talked about legacy. Yes, Weston ran the business he inherited from his grandfather, but he knew that the true legacy the man left behind was in the lives he touched. That was why Weston focused so much on things like the Highland camp and the summer festival. He fostered relationships with the community and showed up for the people he cared about. Locke’s priorities sounded…all business.
My hold on him fell slack, and I sagged, wondering if there was really any room in his life for both the business he saw as his legacyandme and the baby. That thought plagued me as he turned the lights off, and despite the comforter pulled up to my chin, I couldn’t shake the cold dread that clung to me for the rest of the night.
22
ISLA
“Can I have one of those?” Aisling cried, tugging hard on Lena’s hand. “Pleeeaasseee!”
