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“Even if you’re sleeping in a bunkhouse?”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and kicked a pebble. “I thought I’d miss our partying, but honestly, I’m over it. I want to grow up, too.”
“Thought any more about?—”
I’d been about to ask after his musician, but Daisy hollered a greeting from the doorway.
I joined her, eyeing the cleared hallway at her back. “You’ve done so much!”
She sighed, her hands on her hips. “I don’t know. It still feels like a marathon, and the weddings are in just a few days. We’ll be stopping for three weeks. I wish we’d at least found the treasure so that it was plain sailing when we returned.”
“Darling girl,” Dori called. He’d mooched off to the garage.
I trotted over, Daisy coming with me and Mia bringing up the rear. Dori stood at the paintings, halfway through the stack with a canvas revealed.
“Isn’t this familiar? Like that artist you admire.”
I took in the portrait then sank down in front of it, Dori picking up and removing the dozen that had blocked it from view. And protected it. The mastery of light, the pale precision of the impressionist art, I knew it so well as I’d studied this artist with adoration.
I exhaled a shaky breath. “This is it. The treasure.”
Daisy stared. “Are you sure?”
A laugh flew from my lips. “It’s a Cecilia Beaux. Dori, you’ve been here ten seconds and you walked straight up to Agnes’s secret hidden treasure. You’re amazing.”
This, at last, brought the slightest smile to my best friend’s lips. It failed quickly enough, but in that second, with a celebrating Mia telling the others about the discovery and Daisy on the phone to the homeowner, I set my gaze on my best friend.
I’d fix him. I wasn’t sure how, but I’d do everything I could to make him as happy as me. Luckily, I knew a team of bodyguards who might want to help.
Chapter 43
Raphael
A tired-looking Gabe opened the front door to let us in, a tiny wail chasing him. He and Effie had brought their son home yesterday, but neither had slept for more than a few hours together in days, so we’d given them time before visiting.
Ariel and Jackson had already arrived, so when Alex and I entered the living room, we tucked up next to them on the sofa, all gazes on the wee scrap of a bairn in my sister’s arms.
Ariel’s eyes were lined with tears, which said a lot as she never cried. “He’s perfect, Effie. So beautiful. Look at what you made!”
Effie curled in an armchair with a blanket over her and her dark hair tied up. My sister-in-law had been the image of a hardened athlete, and motherhood had softened her. “We agree. I can’t stop staring at his face.”
“Luckily, he looks just like his ma,” I told her, saying the only thing that should be told to a woman who’d just undergone days of labour.
Ariel passed me the baby, and I tucked him on my arm, tracing and memorising every little feature from his button nose to his wisp of dark hair. Alex took a photo and stroked his cheek, and at long last, I realised my fear for his safety had gone.
All I felt was a rush of love so strong it could have floored me.
“Okay there, uncle?” Gabe said softly.
“Hush it,” I said back but with a smile. “Do we have a name yet?”
The couple glanced at each other, and Effie spoke.
“Nope. He’s still just Baby Gordonson. Originally, we wanted to go with something that represented his role in our lives. More specifically, in your lives here in Scotland, and in the freedom ye found. His birth represents so much. Ye both,” she indicated to me and Ariel, “were young teenagers when ye first came here. I didn’t know then what you’d become to me, but I knew ye needed family. People who’d love ye. My husband was the same, even if he gave me the runaround.”
She grinned at Alex. “Did ye know I had to basically torment him into loving me? Gordonson men are tough nuts to crack.”
Alex curved an eyebrow at me. “Sounds familiar.” She returned Effie’s smile. “We need to compare notes. I want all the stories.”