Page 40 of Scotch & Dreams

Stepping up to his side door, he was taking inventory in his head for the next steps when he caught a glimpse of a car in the driveway, and his heart and mood sank: Anna. Walking in the side door to the kitchen, he scooped kibble into Sally's bowl and felt the tension creep into his shoulders and neck as he went to greet his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

When he didn't find her on the main floor, he made his way up the curved staircase. "Anna," he called out, but there was no answer. Seeing his bedroom door ajar, he gently knocked on the door before opening it to find her standing in a black sheer chemise with some fluffy fur or something on the bottom of it. It should have tempted him, but it didn't. His only thought was how over-the-top French fashion could be. The hardness of his cock, which he'd almost grown accustomed to during Violet's brief stay with him, was notably absent.

"Ye utter prick!" Anna's words were as sharp as a slap to the face. She held a white piece of paper in her hand. Lachlan could see it had writing on it, and belatedly, it dawned on him—Violet. She must have left it there when she'd gone up to gather her things this morning.

The near overwhelming desire to read it was perhaps normal. The desire to smell it and even touch his tongue to it to see if held any traces of her taste, surely was not. When he drew his gaze back to Anna, she was deftly throwing daggers at him with her eyes. Christ, what could he say? Although he hadn't cheated, he very much felt like he had. He didn't have words of reassurance for her.

"I willnae claim innocence, although I assure ye it's no' what ye think. I'll leave ye to get dressed, and we can talk downstairs.”

Apparently, that was not the right thing to say, as the very next moment she flopped down on the bed with her shoulders drooping heavily, an exaggerated pout on her face, andthe notecarelessly discarded. Lachlan struggled to tear his gaze away from where it lay on the floor by the bed.

"Lachlan." Anna's voice calmed, capriciously. Then she dropped back against his pillows, theatrically throwing an arm up across her forehead. "I wasnae the perfect angel in France either," she sighed melodramatically.

Lachlan knew her confession should have at least some effect on him, but he felt unmoved. He should want to know what happened, but he found he didn't want to know at all—and not because it would bother him. It was that he was impassive. He didn't care. He was officially checked out of this relationship and already wondering how he could have possibly ever been checked in.

She sat up straighter and looked at him, holding her hands in her lap like a pupil in school. "It's not surprising, really," she explained. "We are about to take the next step in our relationship. It's only natural we'd have one last fling before settling down.”

That sentiment pissed him off. What kind of shite logic was that?

"It makes total sense. We both cracked under the pressure of knowing we were about to commit to each other. It’s a big step, after all, moving in together.”

She was right. It was a massive step! He struggled to fathom how they’d thought they’d gotten to it. Looking at Anna now, he realized their relationship had been surface-level at best. Did they even know each other at all? He couldn’t help but think of Violet. In just over a day, they’d forged a connection that ran deeper than Loch-fucking-ness. It was a stark comparison.

“I think we were testing the waters to be sure we were making the right decision."

Lachlan’s focus snapped back to the present. The more she spoke, the more she looked like she was buying into her own pish explanation.

"I ken, with complete certainty now, I only want to be with ye, Lachlan. We make sense together, aye?” She said it rhetorically like she didn't need an answer from him.

“No."

"Oh, dinnae be silly," she cut him off. "If I ken forgiveye, I'm sure ye can forgive me too, aye? And as a bonus of this little experiment, I realize just how lucky of a lass I am," she purred and her gaze dropped to his crotch. She stroked the black fluffy stuff on her negligee with a gleam in her eyes that reminded him of Cruella de Vil in101 Dalmatians, petting her coat while daydreaming about her nefarious plans. "We are even, Lachlan, and now we can move on from this and find our happily ever after."

Lachlan was too distracted by the note lying discarded on the floor to respond.

"I ken I said I hated France, but I ended up in Paris and fell in love with it. It really is such a romantic city, and ye ken what I was thinking? It's the perfect place for a destination wedding.” She swooned. "If I started planning now, we could huv a fall wedding there. Oh, can you imagine? I could even shop for my dress there!"

Lachlan stood back, unable to comprehend how she could be so delusional. The veil had dropped, as it were, and he felt like he was truly seeing her for the first time. Lachlan felt like he'd entered some kind of hellish twilight zone. Suddenly, he understood what it was that Orlagh had seen in Anna. The woman was self-absorbed. One dimensional.

"Stop. Enough." He couldn't listen to another word. "I dinnae want this, Anna. I dinnae want any of it. We are no' good together, and if anything, this past weekend just proves it."

“We both had a fling. It’s nothing. Dinnae let it ruin us.” She got off the bed and, as if in one final attempt to convince him, reached out to touch his face, but he caught her wrist between them.

“For the record, I dinnae huv a fling, but it doesnae matter. It’s no’ about that. We were never good together. No’ really.” That was painfully clear to him now.

“How can ye say that?” Her features contorted into an ugly sneer, and she bit out, “Was she that good of a lay?”

Lachlan shook his head and almost laughed. He had no doubt that aye, she was that good of a lay, but unfortunately, he didn’t have first-hand knowledge. “We are done. Ye can gather yer things. I’ll be downstairs," he said, with finality, and he turned, striding out of the room with her cursing from behind him.

Coming down the stairs, anger emanated off her like steam from a rooftop in the cold of winter. She barely spared him a glance as her high heels clacked obnoxiously on the slate floor, and she stormed out the front door.

Lachlan felt completely spent by the time Anna left. He didn't like how tense things had gotten. He'd imagined a more diplomatic finish to the relationship, but he couldn't deny that he was relieved it was over and done with. Exhausted, he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. It wasn't until the morning that he realized the note from Violet was gone.

Chapter 25

He’s Just Not That Into You

Forthefirstweekafter her overnight with Lachlan, Violet jumped every time her phone rang. With every text that came through, she subconsciously held her breath. But each time, a pang of disappointment pinched her heart when she realized it wasn’t him. She hadn’t expected to hear from Lachlan right away, but she thought he’d message at some point just to say hi or see how she was doing. It surprised her and disappointed her more than she wanted to admit.

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