"You are effervescent, and beautiful. But I was stunned by how deeply I love you."
"Are you still stunned?"
"Every day." I whisk my lips across hers. "By your beauty, your intelligence, your never-ending positivity, your passion, everything about you."
"I adore you, Rory MacTaggart."
"And I worship you, Emery MacTaggart." I pick up the book and aim it at her. "The last photo isn't of us. It's the house on Skye."
"Because that's where I told you I love you, and it's where you shared your feelings with me for the first time."
I shut the book and set it on the table. "I shouldn't have said it during sex. I love you, and I should've told you the day I realized it. I can't blame you for wanting to leave me."
"I told you I needed time to think."
"Time away from me." I bow my head. "I used to believe I gave up on Isobel too soon, that I should've fought for her. Now I know I should've done the opposite and ended our marriage long before she left." I sag against the sofa. "My worst regret is that I let you walk away without saying a word. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg you to stay. Instead, I let you go without a fight. I will never repeat that mistake. If you want to leave me now, I'll run after you. I'll make a bloody fool of myself in any way necessary if it will keep you from going."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You left me once, and I deserved it."
"Oh Rory, you've got it all wrong." She climbs onto my lap, straddling me with her hands on my shoulders. "I asked for time, not a divorce. I needed to think, but I never had any intention of leaving you."
I rest my hands on her hips. "You came back because of your illness."
"Wrong again." She glides her hands up my neck to cradle my nape. "I wanted to tell you then, but you insisted I shouldn't make decisions for two weeks. Well, it's been two weeks, and I can tell you. I came home because I love you and I need you, and I want to live with you for the rest of my life. I came home because this is my home. Anywhere you are is where I belong."
My fingers tense on her hips. "You mean it?"
"With all my heart." She spreads her legs wider, sinking into my lap. "I'm never walking out that door again unless it's with you."
"You weren't sure I'd changed."
"I was sure. You weren't." She frames my face with her hands. "Do you believe it now?"
"Aye. I believe in you, and I believe in us."
With her hands holding my face, she leans in until our lips skim each other and our breaths mingle. "I've meant to ask you. There was something you said on our first wedding night. It was Gaelic, I think. I'm dying to know what it meant. You probably don't remember."
"No, I remember." Lowering my voice to a rough whisper, I repeat the words I'd spoken on that night. "Yer so beautiful, ye make my bagais ache, cho cinnteach is a tha bod's an each. I want my face in your camas, my mouth on your brillean. The translation is you're so beautiful, you make my balls ache, as sure as a horse has a penis. I want my face between your thighs, my mouth on your clitoris."
"I'm on board for all of that." She grazes her tongue across my lips. "You haven't kissed me in weeks, not the way I want you to."
"Didnae want to overtax you."
"I'm fine, baby. Recovered and cleared for all activities." She sucks my bottom lip between her teeth and releases it slowly. "And I do mean all activities. But let's start with a real, bone-melting kiss."
Anything for my wife.
*****
The following day, I convince Emery that we must visit Loch Fairbairn for the sole purpose of having "a ridiculous outing packed with frivolous behavior and even more frivolous spending." She laughs when I say that. But she is the woman who refused to spend our money, and I mean to talk her into buying things she doesn't need, just because she wants them. Emery deserves to be lavished with all the best things life has to offer.
I do have an ulterior motive, though.
We drive into the village in the Jaguar, and I commit a flagrant if brief violation of the speed laws strictly to make my wife smile. Before she can dash into a shop to browse the clothing selections, I catch her arm and inform her that I have an urgent task to complete at my office. It's a lie, but for a good cause. I instruct her to meet me in the village square in fifteen minutes.
Ten minutes later, I locate my wife. She has just set down two overstuffed bags and walks toward the front windows of the only restaurant in the village. Most of the cafe's front is sequestered behind a wrought-iron railing, but one section of the windows extends past that.