by Elise Faber
It took a long moment but finally, those blue eyes drifted up to meet hers.
“It was perfect.” He opened his mouth, but she squeezed his hip. “No. Stop this crap right now. You don’t get to ruin my first time. I’m here in Scotland, on a fucking cliffside, overlooking the ocean and hearing the waves crash against the shore. The moon is making our skin look like porcelain statues, and I just spent the last hour with the man . . .”
Her teeth found her lip and she bit down hard, stalling the words.
“The man?” he asked.
She shook her head. “The man who gave me my first orgasm courtesy of the opposite sex.”
CeCe gave herself a mental high five. She’d almost blown it, but that had been quick thinking.
Thinking apparently that Colin saw right through.
“Except, that’s not what you were going to say.”
“It doesn’t matter what I was going to say. It is all true. I had a great time and you gave me a wonderful memory to hold on to.” She dropped her hand before turning back for the blanket. “You’ve made these weeks incredible. I mean that.”
He caught her shoulder before she could bend over to pick up the square of flannel.
“What were you going to say?” he pressed, stroking a finger down her cheek.
“Colin, just leave it, okay?” They’d had this time together. Why was he pushing this? Why couldn’t he just let her have her fantasy of the dashing Scottish hero who’d stolen her heart?
“I can’t,” he said. “I need to know.”
So he could ridicule her for having such strong feelings after so short a time?
Or so he could tell her he felt the same way?
CeCe was leaving in two days. Promises couldn’t be made. They were young, and that was beside the fact they lived an ocean apart. They both had responsibilities.
This was a fling.
Nothing more.
Except it felt like a hell of a lot more.
“Stop,” she said, slipping free and bending to snatch up the blanket. “You know you don’t want to hear the answer.”
“Dammit, you need to just tell me.” A demand and one she very much did not like the sound of.
Which was probably why she blurted out the single thing she’d been trying to keep for herself. The last remaining fantasy that she could carry on into adulthood.
First love.
“Fine,” she snapped and wrapped her arms around the blanket, clutching it like it was a stuffy and she was young and scared. And when she said her next words and witnessed Colin’s reaction, Cecilia felt very young indeed.
Young and stupid.
“I love you, Colin McGregor,” she declared. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, and I am, and I can’t help it. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more.”
Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt more than a little sick.
She’d done it. She’d said the words, announced her feelings to the man, to the ocean, to the crashing waves.
And that sick feeling grew.
Because Colin’s face went very blank, carefully, completely, blank.
He thrust a hand through his hair, mussing the locks and sighing up at that gorgeous full moon. He could have been a pagan god, a romantic hero born to life the way that moonlight bejeweled his high cheekbones and straight jawline, the way the shadows enhanced his wide shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.
But then he spoke and it was distinctly not hero-like.
“Fuck, CeCe,” he said, staring down at her with cold blue eyes. “You need to leave.”
Twenty-Two
Cecilia, present day
* * *
“I don’t really know where to begin,” CeCe said, whiskey in hand. She took a sip of the fiery liquid, relishing the burn as it went down, soaking up the notes of oak and honey and—
She was delaying.
But she really didn’t know where to start.
Six years ago, they’d worked through the traumatic end to her first trip to Scotland, but it had taken about two point six million emails and direct messages from Colin before she’d even begun to forgive him.
The image of him walking away on the cliffside, wind mussing his hair, the moonlight transforming his solid form into shadows in mere seconds had broken a piece of her CeCe knew would never be the same.
Her innocence.
No, that part had been freely given. But he’d taken her ability to . . . dream.
Happy endings were no longer guaranteed. She wouldn’t ever be rescued by a man on a white—or in his case, a black—stallion.
It had taken her a long time before she’d begun to appreciate that having her heart broken had ultimately been a good thing. She couldn’t have continued in this world with those naïve, rose-colored glasses on. She certainly wouldn’t have survived college if not for Colin’s cold treatment.
And she probably never would have spoken to him again at all if he hadn’t messaged at one of her lowest times.
A torn rotator cuff.
A hugely significant tear that had required surgery.
She remembered being helped into a sling by the sports therapist, Sally, pain scorching her left arm with each tiny adjustment, but that hurt had been eclipsed by the conversation echoing through the closed door to her coach’s office.
The voice that had been alternately stunned then shocked into silence then furious when he’d told her parents she’d been hurt.
“What do you mean, it serves her right?” he’d shouted, making her wince and Sally apologize for hurting her.
CeCe hadn’t the heart to tell Sally that her shoulder was nothing when compared to knowing that her parents were coldhearted assholes who just couldn’t put their own egos aside to love their daughter as she was.
It had been stupid to hope, to dream that her parents might one day see reason and find a way to care for her.
That wasn’t possible.
And Colin had made it easier for her to shed that desire, to tuck it away and move forward and work harder.
She’d never reached out to her parents again. Not after the surgery, not after the physical therapy, not after all the blood, sweat, and tears had ended up with a shoulder that would never be good enough to swim competitively. And not after her scholarship was rescinded and the bills piled up and she’d been alone.
Warm fingers brushed her cheek. “I don’t care where you start, sweetheart. Just tell me anything.”
She sighed and glanced down at the glass in her hand, running one finger over the curved edge. “I think if you hadn’t messaged me again right at the moment you did, I wouldn’t have come back. No matter what.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped.” A pause, blue eyes locked on hers. “No matter what.”
Her lips twisted. “You say that so confidently.”
“I almost flew over when I found out you’d been hurt.”
“What?” She glanced up and saw the truth in his eyes. “Why didn’t you?”
He took a sip of whiskey. “I didn’t think I’d be welcomed by your parents, and I didn’t think it would be good for your recovery to have me there mucking things up.”
The sky outside was already beginning to darken, the hours of daylight being swallowed up as easily as plankton into a blue whale’s mouth.
“I wish you would have come.”
He held her gaze. “Me too.”
Tilting her head back to stare up at the ceiling, she took a few moments to gather her thoughts.
“So you know I got hurt. I’d had a great season after”—she straightened and gestured between the two of them—“after us. I actually had a real shot at Nationals and who knows from there. Maybe some international stuff. Things were looking really good. I was never swimming faster, never had been in better shape.” She took another sip. “And that continued over the summer. I swam every day and worked two jobs since my scholarship didn’t cover me for the non-school months. But that meant I didn’t get out of shape
and had an okay amount of money saved by the time school started.”
“Then you got hurt?”
She nodded. “It was in the first competition of the season. I felt something tear but kept swimming because it was in the final stretch of the race. I won.” CeCe shook her head. “Turns out if I hadn’t pushed through the pain, I might still have a racing career.”
Colin took the empty glass from her hand and set it on the table. “You couldn’t have known that.”
She shrugged. “A fact I understand now, but one that also haunted me for a good long while.”
He pointed at the stars beginning to appear in the sky. They were so bright this far out from civilization. “How long did it haunt you, sweetheart?”
“Frankly?”
A nod.
“It still bothers me,” she said with a huff. “But you can’t go back and change the past. The worst part was my parents never came, never called. Hell, they never even sent a card. Their only daughter got really hurt, needed a pretty serious surgery followed by physical therapy, but they never once came to check on me.”
Blue eyes flashed. “That’s fucked up.”
“But that’s the way they are.” Her voice was resigned. “It just took until that moment for me to truly understand they would never change. And, truthfully, I’d broken something in them too. I wasn’t their perfect daughter. I didn’t stay close to home and marry the man they’d chosen. I wanted to travel and draw and swim fast.” She laced her fingers together, pressing them to her heart. “I wanted to live my own life and that would never ever be compatible with their expectations.”
“It’s their loss,” Colin said fiercely, brushing back a strand of her ponytail that was lying around her throat. “I know I’m far from innocent in this, that I fucked up royally, but I don’t know how a parent could do that to a child.”
“I know.” She laughed, and it sounded broken. “We both really got screwed in the parental department. I mean, I got disowned because I wanted to take a trip I was paying for myself and then swim competitively a few states away from home and your mother—”
Colin straightened, eyes going flinty and cold. “What did my mother do to you?”
“Well, it was more to you.” CeCe opened and closed her mouth. Damn, she hadn’t wanted to go about it this way. She didn’t want to hurt him and her next words would definitely hurt him. “Though I guess you could say it was to us—”
The trill of her phone cut through her words.
She reached for it.
He stopped her. “Don’t.”
“I have to.” She slipped her fingers from beneath his. “It’s Hunter’s ringtone and I haven’t talked to him yet.”
Colin sighed, chin dropping to his chest. “Then, of course, you have to answer it.” His tone was sincere, absent of sarcasm, and that settled some of the raging storm inside of her.
Cecilia swiped across the screen, a smile breaking out on her lips when Hunter’s little face appeared on her phone.
Saved by FaceTime.
That was a new one.
Twenty-Three
Colin, seven years, eleven months, and twenty-seven days before
* * *
It took Colin exactly three days to realize what an ass he’d been. Cecilia had bared her heart to him, and he’d been too wrapped up in his idiotic embarrassment to recognize how vulnerable she’d been.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he saddled Bo. He’d seriously fucked up.
His whole life had been spent in training, learning how to be a proper gentleman, which bloody fork to use for his salad, how to drink properly from a soup spoon. He’d learned to waltz and ride a horse. Hell, he’d been going to his father’s office for years in order to understand all of the different positions in the various companies.
He’d thought those things had made him a good man.
He was wrong. So damned wrong.
It didn’t matter to CeCe that he’d once spent a week in the mailroom or that he could report the sales figures from the technology branch of the McGregor firm from the last ten months.
He’d hurt Cecilia.
Hence him being an ass.
She’d said she loved him and he’d . . . what? Yelled at her. Told her to leave. Stormed away like a petulant child.
Yes. To all.
Because he’d panicked when she’d said the words.
God, what would his father say if he dared bring CeCe home? What would his mother, hell, his sister say?
Explosion would have been too weak a word for what would have happened if he’d brought Cecilia Thiele to the McGregor estate. Eruption would be a more apt description. The subsequent forces of his parents’ fury driving Scotland into a post-apocalyptic state.
And the thought of all that horror had seized him in the moment. He’d felt rubbed raw from the emotion, tied far too deeply to Cecilia after such a short time together.
So he’d panicked and thrown a temper tantrum.
Like a child.
The worst of it was the shame he’d felt. Embarrassment at falling so deeply for CeCe. His family would be incredibly disappointed.
Which made him feel even more like the biggest jackass on the planet.
Just because his family had certain prejudices didn’t mean they were right, and they didn’t know anything about Cecilia. She was amazing and beautiful, so smart and funny and—
He’d had no right to feel ashamed of what they’d shared.
Yet he had.
Some fucking man he was.
“Where ye off to, son?”
His father’s voice made him jump and fumble with the latches on Bo’s halter. “Father.”
“Another ride?” he asked, brow raised. “Off to see Ollie?”
Colin froze, frowning back over his shoulder. “No.”
“Well, you two have been sneaking off often enough.” His father sounded almost gleeful at that prospect.
“Dad, Ollie and I—”
“It’s okay, son,” his father said. “We live in modern times and—”
“No,” Colin snapped. “For once in your life stop and listen to me. Ollie and I are friends. That’s it.” He tossed the reins over Bo’s saddle. “We’re not ever going to be more than that.”
“But—”
“No,” he said again. “This is enough. You and Stewart need to stop. Olivia and I are never going to be what you want. I don’t have feelings for her in that way.”
His father appeared nonplussed as Colin threw a leg over Bo’s back and hauled himself into the saddle, hardly moving as he kicked Bo’s sides and guided him out of the stall.
“You’re young,” Ian called to Colin’s back. “Feelings change.”
“Not these ones,” Colin said and made a mental note to start behaving like the man he hoped to one day be.
And the first step of that was finding a way to contact Cecilia. He owed her a giant apology.
Twenty-Four
Cecilia, present day
* * *
“Bye, CeCe!” Hunter shouted and then disappeared from the screen. Abby’s face appeared in his place.
“Not you!” CeCe joked. “Where’s my little squishy’s face?”
Abby laughed but turned the camera around so that she could see Carter toddling around the floor, a large plastic truck clutched in one hand. “And I’ll have you know he told me just this morning Carter no squish-squish.”
“No!” CeCe said, collapsing back onto the bed and watching the darkening sky through the windows. “He’s growing up too fast.”
“I know.” Abby sighed. “But that’s not the only thing that’s going to be growing.” She pointed at her belly.
“What?” CeCe’s jaw dropped open. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Abby nodded. “Yup. Jordan is once again banned from wearing deodorant.”
CeCe burst into laughter. “Don’t tell me the smell of it is making you sick again!”
Her friend rolled her
eyes. “Every freaking type.” But then she laughed. “My nose told me I was pregnant before the pregnancy test could.”
“Oh, my God.”
“I know.”
“You’re having another baby.”
“I know.” Abby widened her eyes. “What the hell were we thinking?”
CeCe smiled. “That you were good parents?” A beat. “Plus you have a hell of a nanny.”
Abby blew out a breath. “About that . . .”
Cecilia’s gut dropped.
“I was wondering if you would consider working for me.”
Pregnancy brain was already striking her poor friend. “I do work for you, Abs.”
She waved a hand. “I’m screwing this up. I meant I want you to put your art skills to work in my department.” Both palms came up. “No pressure, but your drawings are so amazing that I was hoping to hire you as a freelance artist. You could work from here or on your travels. I just . . . you’re family, CeCe, and my kids and I are so lucky to have you. But I don’t want to be the one to hold you back, not when you’re so talented, honey. You deserve to have all your dreams come true.”
Cecilia’s eyes filled with tears. “Dammit, Abs. You had to go and do it.”
Her friend sniffed and wiped a hand across her cheek. “I’m sorry. I mean I’m not sorry. But I’m also a hormonal mess and have been emotionally puking all over everyone.” Jordan appeared briefly on the screen, a box of tissues in his hand. He put them in Abby’s lap and looked into the phone. “She asked you yet? You’re going to say yes, right?”
“Ugh.” Abby slapped his arm. “Stop being so pushy, dammit.”
“Language.” He smacked a kiss to her lips and glanced back at the camera, winking at CeCe. “Yup, she’s definitely going to say yes.”
“Jordan!”
“Abigail.” He kissed her again, a little longer than before. “I love you to pieces.”
“Congrats,” CeCe murmured.
He studied her through the screen, eyes concerned. The man was an emotional ninja, somehow always knowing when she’d needed a hug or a break from the stress of Hunter’s care. Today was no different. One look and he knew something was up. “You doing okay?”