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“No, I’m not. I was at my peak there. I was in the best shape of my life. I weighed… practically nothing. I lived on salad and chicken broth. I was miserable when I wasn’t dancing, but I look at that picture and know I’d give anything to go back to that time.”
I pull her into my arms and hold her there without saying anything else for a while. At least a couple of minutes pass while I just silently comfort her. “You’re beautiful now,” I say quietly once I’m sure she isn’t going to start crying. “I never met that girl in the picture, so I can’t tell you for sure whether she would have been able to make me laugh like you do or whether she could drive me crazy like you do.” I lean in and whisper, “Or whether I’d spend every minute of every day wanting her like I want you.”
“Do you mean that?” Okay, I was wrong. Her voice is shaky and there’s still a pretty good chance she might cry. “You can honestly say you like me better like I am now?”
“I like you because of who you are. You walk into a room and I have to stop what I’m doing so I can turn and look.” I nod toward the picture. “Like I said, I don’t know her. But I know you. I know how amazing you are. I know you’re just as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.”
We aren’t usually this open and honest with each other, especially not while we’re out in public. But I needed to say those things and I think she needed to hear them.
“Thank you for that,” she says as we walk away from her picture. “And thank you for tonight. I know it might not seem like it, but I’m really glad we came here. I knew it would be difficult to see this exhibit, but I would have regretted missing it.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” I want to stop her, to pull her into my arms again and kiss her pretty lips. Not right now, though. Not until we’re alone. “It’s not every day that I get a chance to spend some time alone with the prettiest girl in Manhattan—or Glasgow, for that matter.”
She snorts. “Now I know you’re lying, but I appreciate the ego boost.”
This time I do stop her, taking both her hands in mine even though I still can’t get as close as I’d like. “You might not believe me, but I wouldn’t lie about something like that. You’re beautiful, Ella, and I’m going to keep saying it.”
She gives me a funny look that I can’t quite read. “It’s times like these when I wonder how you could possibly still be single.”
I frown, ready to brush off her comment as sarcasm. “I—wait, you’re being serious?”
“Yeah, of course. This side of you—this honest, vulnerable, sensitive side—is sexy. That hard-ass, international power-player side is sexy, too, so don’t misunderstand what I’m trying to say. It’s just kind of crazy to me that you have all this going for you and yet… you’re still single.”
I shrug. “I could say the same about you, I guess. And yeah, I’m single now, but I hope I won’t be forever. I’d like to get married again someday.”
Her eyes grow wide and her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she can form any actual words. “Seriously? You really do want to get married again?”
Her shock shouldn’t surprise me. This is the first time I’m admitting out loud, even to myself, that I might want something like that again. “Eventually, yeah. Hopefully. Isla is growing up so fast and she’s going to move out and be on her own one of these days. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wandering the halls of Drumman Castle like some kind of ghost.”
She smiles and takes my arm as we start walking through the exhibit again. “No, I can’t quite picture that. So would you say you’re ready to settle down with someonenow? Or are you just talking about some hypothetical time in the future?”
“Why do I feel like this is a trick question? I think we’ve probably done enough soul-baring for one night, don’t you?”
“If you say so.” She stops and cranes her neck to see past the small group of people ahead of us. “Is that your brother over there? You can probably see better than I can.”
It only takes me a second to see him. He’s moving through the crowd, shaking hands and making polite small-talk. James is always a politician, first and foremost. He’s always campaigning, always making connections, even among people who probably don’t give two shits about British politics.
They have money, though. And influence. James can sniff out these rich, old socialites like a bloodhound.
“Shit,” I glance back over my shoulder, judging the distance to the door. It’s too late to get away from him now without causing a scene. “Brace yourself. He’s probably been drinking.”
James’ eyes narrow as he gets closer, and I can see his gaze flick from me to Ella and back again. Dammit. I really don’t want to deal with him tonight.
“Well, well, well,” he snickers, nodding in Ella’s direction before stopping to shake my hand. “The prodigal son has made an appearance with his little flavor of the month.Quelle surprise.”
“Speaking French doesn’t make you sound smarter,” I sigh.
“Fucking your nanny doesn’t make you more of a man,” he shoots back, making Ella gasp and shocking the hell out of me. “Oh, come on. You’re not actually trying to fool anyone at this point, are you? Look around. How many people do you see who are on a date with members of their staff? Hm?”
If we were anywhere else, I’d punch him. He knows it, too.
Bastard.
I turn to place my body between James and Ella. I might not be able to completely shield her from his stupidity, but I can at least put some physical distance between the two of them. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her. “I’ll handle this.” Keeping her tucked against my side, I turn back to him. “You’re drunk. Go away before I embarrass you in front of all these rich old ladies.”
“You’re embarrassing yourself, brother. You and your little slu—”
“Nope.” I let go of Ella’s hand and grab him by the arm. “We’re not doing this tonight,” I hiss, marching him toward the door. “Say another word and I’ll break your fucking arm.”
