Page 44 of Scandal
“No,” I answer. “Go back to sleep. I’ll put on a coat and go for a walk.”
“It’s freezing outside!”
I smile. “I’m Scottish, love. And it’s hardly freezing. It’s just a little balmy.”
She watches me as I tug on a hoodie, jacket, and shoes. “Don’t let him bully you,” she says just as I grab a flashlight by the door.
Something tugs at my chest. Something foreign and new. Smiling, I answer, “Never.”
The second I step outside, I let out a curse. “Fucking Christ,” I mutter. Scottish or not, it’s cold as balls out here. I zip up my jacket, then pull up Hen’s missed calls before I hit send.
He answers on the second ring. “About time.”
“You are aware of the eight-hour time difference between us, right?”
“I don’t give a shit what time it is there, Ash. I need to talk to you.”
I head toward the road, not bothering with the flashlight. I only took it to calm Mercury’s anxiety. I went outside the other night to grab some firewood, and she freaked out, worried I would stumble or be eaten by a bear.
I told her there actually aren’t any bears in Scotland, but that didn’t ease her mind. What did? A flashlight. Still, the full moon provides plenty of light to guide my way.
“All right,” I reply. I expected this conversation to happen eventually. I knew Hen would have doubts and maybe even a few choice words about his sister’s arrangement, more than his father, who took it quite well.
So I’d expected a phone call.
I hadn’t expected it to happen in the middle of the fucking night, but here we are. “Let’s talk.”
“There are pictures of the two of you,” he says accusingly. “All over the internet.”
I didn’t know the photos from the gala had been released yet, nor had I seen them. But it doesn’t surprise me. The journalists present last night would have been dying to get those photos online as quickly as possible. “Okay,” I answer. “I’m not sure why that’s a problem, Hen. I’m sure Lance explained that we’d be photographed together and?—”
“Yes, but he didn’t say that it’d look so?—”
“So what?”
“So convincing.”
Oh.Oh, shit.
“Listen, mate,” I start to say. Nerves crawl up my throat. “What you saw was?—”
“Are you into my sister, Ash?”Fuck.“’Cause I love you, man, but I gotta be honest with you. She’s not the girl for you.”
“What?” I blurt out.
“She’s young and shy.”
“I know how old she is, Hen, and it’s not like I’m a dirty old man over here. Christ, I’m younger than you are.” Not by much, but still.
“I’m just saying, she’s still so—” He seems to struggle to get out what he’s trying to say. “She’s good. Really good.”
And I’m…not.
“I know she is. She’s amazing.”
“Look.” He blows out a breath. “I just don’t think she’s ready for all that. I don’t want her to get in over her head with you.”
Why do I feel like we’re having two different conversations?
