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He looked up. Ally was smirking.
“What?” Ruairidh snapped. “I pour my guts out and you grin at me?”
“About bloody time.” Ally took a sip of his pint.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Ruairidh’s jaw clenched.
Ruairidh wasn’t used to this—this churn in his chest. He was meant to be composed, sorted. Not sitting in the Park Bar pouring his guts out to Ally. But Jenn… hell, she’d unravelled him piece by piece.
He wanted her. Always. Not just her body—though Ìosa, that would undo him on its own—but the way she’d hum when she baked, the little tilt of her head when she was pretending not to laugh, the way she’d call him Captain when she was both teasing and annoyed. She was sharp. Warm. Clever as hell. The kind of woman who brought people together without even trying. Comforted them. Built them up. It wasn’t showy—it was just her. She’d slide someone a slice of cake with that soft smile, and before you knew it some grumpy bodach was spilling his whole life story. She’d done the same to him. Opened him up without him even noticing. With her he felt lighter. Like himself—his truest self. The man he wanted to be.
“Relax, mate,” Ally said, still smiling. “I’m not winding you up. Everyone can see it. You love her. And I’m absolutely certain she loves you.”
Ruairidh blinked. “She—what?”
“Come on, man. Don’t act like it’s not obvious.”
Ruairidh knocked back half his pint in one go. “Ìosa. I’ve been tying myself in knots over this. I can’t think straight. She’s leaving, Ally. And… what if I’m already too late? What if I lose her anyway?”
Ally chuckled. “You’re overthinking it. You’re just going round in circles like a plane that’s too feart to land.”
“So, what do I do?”
“First,” Ally said, raising his empty glass, “we get another round. Then the next time you see her, you tell her.” Ally looked at him, eyes unwavering. “When it’s real, you don’t fuck about. Say it straight, before the chance is gone.”
Could it really be that simple?
Ruairidh wasn’t sure. But the thought of not fighting for her made his chest ache like hell.
Chapter 41
Jenn was back in Edinburgh. She couldn’t believe it. It was so noisy. Busy. Overwhelming. Smelly.
Well, not right now.
Right now, she was nestled on Vivi’s sofa, breathing in the faint scent of sea salt and white florals from a candle that probably cost more than Jenn’s electricity bill.
“Here you go.” Vivi handed her a giant mug of tea and a plate of biscuits before curling up beside her.
“This place is nice. Cracking view, anyway.” Jenn nodded toward the bay windows framing Edinburgh Castle, its silhouette carved in stark lines against a pewter-grey winter sky, the hum of city traffic bleeding through the glass.
“I suppose,” Vivi replied, scanning the room. “Still feels like Charles’ place, though.”
“How’ve things been?” Jenn asked gently.
“Uch, fine. You know how it is with the hotels…” Vivi waved it off, but Jenn caught the slight edge. Not like Vivi at all. But she clearly wasn't ready to offload yet.
“What are we doing about you?” Vivi exclaimed. “How do you feel being here?”
“It’s weird.” Jenn exhaled slowly. “Almost a year to the day since I was last here. And I feel like I’m back to square one. Then you guys planned it all out for me and sent me off to Hellisay…”
Vivi laughed out loud. “You’re having a full-blown Spiral-anniversary party!”
“Vivi! You’re supposed to be the caring and supportive bestie right now.”
“But I am,” she said with a smirk. “Seriously though, you’re here pretending to sort things, but really, you want me to tell you to take that café offer and go have teuchter pilot babies, right?”
Jenn gaped.
