“I hadn’t articulated it that far, but yeah, kinda?” He let out a breath. “Isla, I like you. A lot. It’s just, you know, complicated. You’re in Scotland. I’m in the U.S. Our careers—”
“That’s why you should hurry and come to Scotland,” I interrupted softly. “So we can talk all that out. And if we decide it’s not worth the risk, you’ll have helped me get through the wedding without interference from my grandfather.”
“Then I’ll see you soon. I’ll text you once I get my flight figured out.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“We’ll talk soon, Isla. About lots of things.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” I disconnected and held the phone against my chest for a moment before leaning over to turn on the water in the shower. I’d rinse the mud off and then run a bath so I could soak my sore muscles. I didn’t ride nearly often enough and I would feel it tomorrow if I didn’t.
When I finally sank down into the hot water, I closed my eyes happily. I didn’t take the time for baths very often, but they were one of my favorite ways to relax. It allowed me time to think, while simultaneously letting go of my worries and just losing myself in the moment. Especially times like these, when I was both annoyed and curious about my grandfather’s machinations. I didn’t understand where this need to manipulate my life had come from. I hadn’t done much dating the last couple of years, but I’d had more than my fair share of fun during my undergraduate years at Harvard.
I was an overachiever, though, so I’d finished in three years and came back to Edinburgh to start postgraduate studies. We were a family of overachievers, none more so than my twin brother who not only played professional hockey but also had a law degree. I’d always felt a little overshadowed by him, despite how close we were, and I’d worked harder than ever to prove myself professionally. Unfortunately, as the only girl in a family of six children, it always seemed to go back to marriage and babies. That was the only thing my grandfather cared about lately and it had begun to genuinely upset me.
He’d apologized about his behavior the other night, but then had immediately asked me how serious I was with Dax and if I foresaw an engagement happening. I nearly cried with embarrassment just thinking about it, but now that I’d spoken to Dax, not only did I feel better about my lie, I had a little glimmer of hope. Hope that he returned my feelings. Hope that this charade would turn into something real. Hope that maybe there was some kind of happy ending for me in my personal life. What else could it mean?
I’d been falling in love with him the last couple of years, and no matter who else I went out with, no one ever measured up. He was the whole damn package, smart and sweet and athletic and sexy as hell. He’d never appeared interested, though, no matter how many times I’d hinted that I was, so I’d essentially given up. Until now.
While I hadn’t started this on purpose, it was happening, and Dax seemed on board with not just continuing my charade, but potentially exploring the option of making it real. Our conversation had been a little awkward, without a touch of caution, but he’d said the words, said that while it might be difficult, he was still interested in figuring it out. What more could I ask for? This was the closest we’d come to admitting there was a pull between us, chemistry that went beyond friendship, and I wasn’t going to walk away, no matter what. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, but at least I could look back and know I tried. Otherwise, I’d be back to pining for him, emotionally unable to open up to other men, and essentially miserable.
I sat in the bath, sipping a glass of wine and imagining all the possibilities before finally pulling myself out. I dried off, put my hair up in a clip and pulled on my pajamas. I planned to sleep in tomorrow and spend the day inputting final grades into the computer system so I could put this semester to bed. I liked teaching well enough, but I preferred my research. Unfortunately, I had to do one to be allowed to continue with the other, so I did my best.
I taught an introduction to physics class, usually taken by unimpressed non-science majors who needed that science credit, or freshman science majors who wanted to show me what excellent scientists they were going to be. Sometimes it was exhausting, trying to teach them the basics while making it interesting and not focusing too much on my personal interests.
When Ian had left to go play hockey at the fancy American boarding school, we’d agreed to finish high school in three years and meet at Harvard. So that’s what we’d done. And our three years at Harvard had been a blast. Ian had made a deal with Granddad that he could play professional hockey as long as he got his law degree before going pro, so Ian had obediently rearranged his life to do that, and I’d done the same thing so we could attend university together.
I’d also been an athlete once upon a time. I’d been a fairly good lacrosse player but I’d blown out my knee during our second year at Harvard, and by the time I was in shape again, I was about to graduate. At that point, I’d come home to Edinburgh to begin postgraduate studies, and without Ian to drag me out and about, I’d turned my focus to academics and then my career as a lecturer.
And I wasn’t like other lecturers. For one thing, I was quite a bit younger than most. For another, I’d been the youngest student at the university who’d
