It took some time for Charlie to calm, but as we strolled through the base of Sir Walter Scott’s monument I noticed she’d finally stopped looking at everyone like they might be out to kill me. I’d played it pretty well, that prank. Truth was I had no real fear of being spied on, stalked or taken hostage, least of all killed. My invention was widely known about in the right circles, that’s how I’d made so much money. Word spread.

But she didn’t need to know that. Maybe I’d tell her someday when I wanted to see her explode, just for the fun of it.

There is a narrow winding staircase in the monument and I had her walk ahead of me up it so that we could take in the view from the top.

She teased, “You just want to watch my ass.”

“I want to be able to catch you if you fall.”

Her smirk fell and she bit her lip. “Oh.”

Stifling a laugh, because I was looking at her ass, I followed her up the steep incline, and tried to impress her with my knowledge. “This is the largest monument to a writer in the world. When Sir Walter Scott died in 1832 they held a competition and a man name George Kemp entered under a fake name.”

My phone gave a short buzz for a text message. I had it on vibrate and ignored it.

“Why?” Charlie asked.

“He was a self-taught architect, which they didn’t take seriously. It was a time when qualifications and reputation – who you knew and where you trained – were what mattered. But they liked his submission, so he won and told them who he really was. You know what sucked?”

We reached the top and Charlie turned to me, the view behind her. “They didn’t want to give him credit?”

“No, they did. But it took six years to build and the year it was completed he wasn’t able to be at the inauguration, which took place I think in August. He’d fallen into a canal and drowned that March, just a few months before on a foggy night. Never got to see what he’d created.”

Her eyes widened. “How terrible!”

Pulling her to me, I kissed her, murmuring against her soft lips, “I think so, too.” She laced her arms around my neck and stood on her tiptoes to kiss me again. Relishing the feel of her I deepened the kiss and heard a whistle behind us. We separated and smiled at an older couple, clearly tourists. They looked to be in their eighties, eyes bright in heavily wrinkled skin, another gorgeous vista behind them.

“How long have you two lovebirds been together?” the woman asked.

I glanced to Charlie and saw her cheeks flush. She was about to deny it, so I interrupted, “Couple of years.”

The husband pointed at Charlie’s naked left hand. “Better make an honest woman of her if you’re going to be kissing her like that.”

“Ah, come on,” I joked. “You’ve gone and ruined the surprise. Now I’m going to have to find a new place to propose!”

Their eyes widened and his wife asked, “You were going to do that today, right here?”

“Well, now I can’t!” I grinned.

Charlie hit my shoulder and quickly told them, “He’s messing with you. He wasn’t going to do that.”

Shoving my hand in my jacket pocket I made a fist like I’d grabbed a ring box. “Oh yeah? What’s this?” To the couple I shrugged. “We’re going to Edinburgh Castle next. Guess that will have to do.” I hit my forehead. “Damn! I went and spoiled the surprise.”

They didn’t know what to think, which was fucking hilarious. Charlie shook her head and began to confess to them that we weren’t a real couple. So I grabbed and shut her up with a kiss. She resisted at first, but then when they started clapping she gave in and didn’t want to ruin their fantasy of what we were to each other. Hell, it probably gave them a reminder of what they used to have. But what did I know? Maybe they were still going at it like rabbits after all these years. They had to have some form of exercise to keep them in shape so they could negotiate that crazy, winding staircase we all had climbed up.

Charlie and I said goodbye to them and I guided her to the railing to enjoy the view of the city spread out before us. She pointed at the castle, its highest point shrouded in low clouds in the near distance. I was behind her, and she leaned into me, asking in a quiet voice, “You know a lot about the city.”

My phone vibrated a text message again, and I continued to ignore it. Probably just Emma teasing me about being on another continent with my new jet. It could wait.

I kissed Charlie’s hair and said, “The first time I came here was with my mom and dad. They took me and my brother and sister on a vacation when we were kids because my mom had never been to Europe and she’s got a lot of Irish blood. We went to Dublin, then flew to Edinburgh. I loved this place more. Felt like it was home. Don’t know why but I always thought if I didn’t live in Georgia, I could be happy here. Something sits right with my soul in this city. Oh, here’s an odd little trivia thing — you know how the doors are different colors?”

“On the homes?”

“Yeah, rumor is they painted them that way — blue, red, green, yellow, never the same color next to each other — so the husbands would know what house was theirs when they came home drunk.”

“Oh God,” Charlie chuckled. “Sounds like a smart wife devised a way to keep her man in her bed and hers alone.”

I laughed, “Only a woman would think of that.”

“Only a woman would have to!” she volleyed back, tone teasing. We stood there soaking in the beauty until she asked, “Are you close with your family?”

“Very. My sister is probably my best friend. You saw her at Whiskey Blue. That’s Emma.”

Charlie’s body tensed and she turned her face to me. “The pretty brunette you were next to? That was your sister?”

“You thought I was on a date?”

She nodded, “Vanessa and I both did.”

“That’s hilarious. I’ll have to tell her,” I smirked, amused Charlie had cared. The relief in her eyes was obvious. “And Hannah and Tobias were with us, the blonde? Did you notice her?”

“Yes.”

“That’s Hannah. We’re almost as close.”

“As you and Emma?” She turned around, her back against the railing. My hands slid to hold her hips, and her hands rested on my chest. I loved this. I could stay there all day and be happy.

“Yeah, the older cousins hung out a lot together. Hannah’s top, first born, then Emma, then Sofia and Ben. I’m right after, Max is right around then, too. Caden and Eric are about the same age. Shit, and Nicholas comes in around that time.” At Charlie’s expression I stopped. “It gets confusing. There are seventeen of us cousins, so I’ll just stop there.”

“Your siblings are just Emma and Eric?” she slowly asked like she was trying to remember who was most important.

“Yes, exactly. It’s just the three of us. My sister is the oldest. Eric is the youngest. Mom and Dad chose all E names, which is so fucking annoying. He and his brothers all have J names. None of my uncles did that with their kids, but my dad can be pretty traditional about family stuff. He’s Jake, and his brothers are, in this order, oldest to youngest, Jaxson, Jett, Justin and Jason — they’re twins — then my dad, Jake, like I said, and the youngest is my uncle Jeremy. But I don’t expect you to remember it all. Come here.” I kissed her and murmured against her soft lips, “With it all overcast like this, your red hair and blue eyes are taking my breath away, Ms. Reed.”

She smiled against my mouth and murmured, “Mr. Cocker, I was thinking you look very handsome when you talk about your family. Your eyes brighten.”

“They do?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed. She felt the vibration of yet another text in my pocket and glanced down.

“It can wait.” We kissed for a little while and then I smiled down at her happy face. This woman was so different from the one I met in the break room, so soft and open. “What were we talking about?”

“Your uncles and how they didn’t name their kids with the same first letter.”

“Ah yes.”

“Are they close, too? Everyone gets along?”

I chuckled, “Pretty much. I mean, their egos are the size of the U.S., so they fuck with each other and sometimes fight but nothing lasting. Uncle Jett and my grandpa don’t get along. My uncle is a biker. Grandpa hates that, but I think even if Jett weren’t one, they’d still battle. They’re so stubborn and both of them always think he’s right and the other is wrong. Like they said in Highlander…”

Charlie and I both said at the same time the famous movie quote, “There can be only one.”

My eyes went wide and I called her out on it. “You’re a geek in hiding!”

“I am not!” she laughed.

“Highlander was way back in the 80’s! No way you can quote that if you’re not a lover of fantasy!” I squeezed her hips and she just kept shaking her head.

“No, it has a very beautiful love story, actually a couple of them! The woman he met in Germany who stayed with him all those years hoping he’d choose her…”

I was ecstatic we had this in common, and agreed, “I know! That scene when he leaves and she hovers under that window killed me. But the…”

My phone rang and I blinked toward my pocket.

Charlie felt the change in me, and her voice became concerned. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, it just feels like that was a lot of texts and now someone’s calling. Hang on. I’m sorry.” I dug it from my pocket and stared at it. “It’s my Mom. She never calls. It’s always Dad. Sorry, excuse me.” I stepped to the side, covering my other ear as I swiped to answer, “Mom?”

My mother’s sweet Southern drawl came through, full of tension and fear. “Ethan, your grandfather’s had a heart attack. We need you to come home.”