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In which there are mimosas, brunch, and bonding.

Arabella…

Sloan, Kenna and Luna, Kai’s wife, sweep me away the next morning “for brunch” before I can do more than pull on a pair of shoes. Logan gives me a kiss goodbye, winking as they haul me out the door even though I’m desperately signing, Save me, you arse!

“Logan knows better than to make a fuss, because after last night’s debacle, ye need some girl time,” Kenna says, squeezing in next to me and slamming the Range Rover’s door shut.

“I’m hoping you’re not planning on anywhere fancy.” While they’re all wearing pretty dresses, I’m looking mighty ratty in my jeans and t-shirt. It’s one of Logan’s and while I look ridiculous in it, it’s soft and it smells like him.

We end up at a nice, unpretentious type of eatery by the River Clyde. The girls must be regulars because the hostess dinnae blink an eye at my attire. It’s a little place with a few tables crowded together on the flagstone patio. I canna help but notice that we’re the only ones out there, aside from four enormous bodyguards, including Hamish, seated in pairs at the tables on either side of us.

“I propose that we order some tasty bites, eat, and talk about nothing in particular until we can get a mimosa into Arabella here,” Luna says, eyeing me with a little grin. “Maybe two mimosas. I have to say, I’m very displeased that all the good stuff happens while I’m at home, puking my guts out.”

“Are you okay?” She looks healthy. Luna’s beautiful in that unearthly way, with silverish-blonde hair and blue eyes. Like a fairy princess. Next to her, I feel sturdy and a wee bit awkward.

I’m fine. Luna signs it, tapping her chest with her index finger and making a thumbs-up with a closed fist.

My cheeks flush and I’m keeping my eyes wide open to keep the tears from spilling out. Only my older brother and one of my sisters ever bothered to learn a bit of sign language, and yet every extended relative in the MacTavish clan has clearly been putting in a lot of study.

I’m just pregnant.

The table erupts in screams and cheers, and Hamish nearly vaults over the table to seize me before he realizes this is a positive development.

“Congratulations!” Kenna leans over to hug her fiercely. “How far along?”

“Four months,” Luna’s laughing helplessly. “I know, I know! Collin has just turned one and I’m pregnant already.”

“Well, the MacTavish genes are strong,” Sloan winks, daintily sipping her mimosa.

“No discussion of my brothers’ or my cousin’s reproductive capacity, if you please,” Kenna makes a gagging motion. “Wait. Does that count as extreme nausea in sign language, Arabella?”

“Um, nausea is more like…” I extend my little fingers, brushing them down my chest and gently patting my stomach. “What you did is a little closer to-”

“Haud yer wheesht!” Now, Kenna’s flushing beet red . “No more sex signing at brunch!”

“Well, you did bring it up,” Sloan says reasonably.

It turns out that it only takes one mimosa to feel comfortable with these women. Sloan and Luna - who are both from the U.S. - are regaling me with what I suspect are highly sanitized versions of their “meet cutes” with their MacTavish men.

“I’m thinking I’m not getting all the details here.”

“Oh yes, little Miss ‘I got kidnapped, got rescued, got shitfaced and then got married in Copenhagen,” Sloan jeers.

“Ye have a point there.” I hold up my hands in defeat, face bright red.

“Backstories aside,” Kenna says, “we wanted ye to have a little time off from the intensity of being Mrs. Logan MacTavish and all the accompanying drama it provides. As ye can see from last night, your man led a full and active life as a fuckboy before finding ye.”

“I think she means fuckboy in the nicest way,” Luna says with a weak smile.

“Oh, he’s my brother. I know he was a fuckboy.” Kenna continues, unperturbed.

“You handled it so well, sister! All the crazy was out in force last night and you stared them all down like a boss,” Sloan says. “I was so impressed, I don’t know if I would have stayed so calm.”

I run my fork through the sauce left from my omelet. “It’s not like I dinnae expect the man to be a virgin when he married me. I mean… look at him.”

“Yeah.”

“Aye.”

“True that.”

“The full assault on our first big night out was a wee bit much.” I run my hand down my face, exhausted just at the thought of it. “Kenna and Sloan were my midfielders, aye? The Raging Ginger bearing down and ye stepped right in. I dinnae even want to know about the other two in the hallway.” I grin suddenly. “Someone threw a glass of wine on him somewhere between him leaving to get my coat and returning to the car. I think the Merlot running down his tux was the classic finish.”

Luna sprays out the mouthful of water she was drinking. “Man, oh man…” She blots her chest with her napkin. “Kai’s told me stories, but the Karma truck just ran Logan down and then drove back and forth a couple of times to make sure the skid marks are nice and clear.”

“What? How did we miss this?” Sloan’s pounding on the table and Kenna’s wheezing, holding her stomach.

“I’m not saying he dinnae deserve it,” Kenna says, “because he did. I can tell ye my brother’s a different man now, I’ve not seen him like this before. So attentive. He used to buy girls flowers and jewelry before he made his escape, but for ye? Everything’s changed.”

“How?”

“Well, he’s the one who arranged for the MacTavish Foundation to sponsor last night, because he knew Berlioz's Requiem was such a loud, resounding symphony. He invited your students and booked out the front row for them.” Sloan smiles, patting my hand. “Something lovely and thoughtful. Something that a man who cared about you would do.”

I remember him standing at the front desk at the Wallace School, charming Lucy with takeout and asking about my kids. How quickly he’s been learning sign language. Watching him brag about me to the Chieftain of the clan and calling reading lips my superpower.

Last night in the shower…

“Oh, my god. He’s really serious about this marriage thing, isn’t he?”

They all burst into laughter and I canna blame them. That sounded more shocked and appalled than happy. The happiness is there, though, a sweet ember, glowing in my heart.

As we’re leaving the restaurant, flushed and happy and maybe just a bit tipsy, Hamish quickly steps in front of me.

“Relax, ye big lummox. I’m Detective Christie and this is Detective Roy. We’ve been working on Miss Blair’s assault case.”

He reluctantly steps aside to reveal Detective Christie, wearing one of her sensible blue suits and an ironic smile. Her partner’s busy puffing out his chest at the amused clump of bodyguards.

“Girls, give me a moment, would ye?”

It’s clear they’ve all had dealings with the police before, stepping a discreet distance away.

“Ach, it’s Mrs. MacTavish now, isn’t it?” The detective is eyeing me closely. “Was this a planned thing, then?”

“A wee bit spontaneous,” I admit. “But very much wanted.”

“It is unusual,” she says, glancing over at the armored car and the two black SUVs bracketing it. “I canna seem to find any record of ye having dealings with the MacTavish Clan at all… until word of your marriage popped up.”

I know better than to open my mouth. She’s leading this somewhere and I’m not getting in her way.

“Now, you’re not teaching at the Wallace School and ye seem to have dropped out of sight. The Detective Superintendent took your case from me.”

She steps between me and Hamish, leaning in so I can watch her lips as she lowers her voice. “If ye do not wish to be with this family. I can help ye. Not to feed me information of any crime that has been committed and god knows that with the MacTavishes, there’s a case list thicker than the Bible. Just… if ye are there against your will, I can help.”

Again. Another person with no real reason to care about me… yet does.

“I dinnae want ye to think my teary eyes are a sign of distress, Detective,” I sniffle a bit. “I’m grateful to ye for your concern.” Hamish is on his toes, looking over her shoulder at me like an anxious bulldog. “I can tell ye with absolute certainty that I am right where I want to be. That I am safe and in no danger and under no threat.”

Well, from the MacTavishes, anyway…

She blows out a long breath. “Take my card again. Just in case ye ever need to talk, aye?”

“Of course. And thank ye.”

I’m clutching her card when I slide into my seat in the car.

“Everything okay there?” Luna asks gently.

“Aye.” She’s still standing there, watching us drive away. “Detective Christie is one of the good guys.”

Logan…

After an endless day of planning for the next move against the Costa Cartel, I go in search of my wife.

She’s up in the clock tower, lying on one of the benches and watching the clouds through the skylight.

“There’s my Bella.” I lean over her, kissing her thoroughly. “How was brunch with the girls? I’m sure they shared every despicable thing I’ve ever done.”

“There was some mention of your fuckboy past,” she agrees pleasantly.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph I’ll never live that shite down, will I?”

“Ye have a clean slate with me, husband. What ye did for my kids last night? And your family sponsoring the concert? It was beautiful, and kind. Thank ye for that.” She sits up, leaning against me. It’s a surprisingly warm day for late May and the breeze sliding between the clock faces feels good.

“I’m glad. What have ye been doing up here?”

“Um, putting sounds in my treasure box.”

I pull back, watching her turn all shy on me. “Aye? Tell me more.”

“I dinnae have long before my hearing’s gone. Completely.”

She sounds matter of fact about it, which is fecking killing me. I know it. I sent her medical records to the best ENT specialists in the UK. They all agreed with the original diagnosis.

“So, I started putting memories of sounds in a treasure box in my head. I take them out every now and then, try to recreate them and make sure they’re right.”

“This is brilliant.” I pull her on to my lap so I can watch her expression as she reminisces. “What are some of the sounds you’re keeping close?”

“My favorite song.”

“Which is?”

“Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Of course,” I nod.

“The sound of the windchimes on the back porch of my parent’s house. Um, the first time I got my students to laugh when I was a student teacher. They can be a wee bit reserved until they know they can count on ye. A starling who used to sing outside my dorm window at Uni. My friend Meera, she’s a terrible singer, but I used to love hearing her serenade her bairns with “The Sky Boat” lullaby at night. That one’s in the treasure box.”

She’s so beautiful, my wife, her eyes lit gold as she talks and her riot of dark curls moving with the breeze. I lift her hand, kissing it. “What are ye putting in the treasure box tonight? Something from the brunch, then?”

Her pale skin flushes the prettiest shade of pink. “No. I was, um… It’s the sound ye made when ye came in me last night. Your hoarse groan and how ye said, “You’re mine.”

I’m grabbing her by the hips and lifting her to straddle me in seconds. “Would ye like me to recreate it right now? Just to make sure ye have it right?”

Wrapping her arms around me and laughing helplessly, she whispers, “I have a feeling there’s gonna be many opportunities.”

Savoring the smooth feel of her cheek against my lips, her warm wee body, and the sound of her laughter, I squeeze her tight. “As many as ye like, sweet wife.”

Haud yer wheesht! - Scottish slang to say shush!