Page 39 of Her BRATVA Protector
Fiona’s cackling. “Aw, he’s takin’ the wife home tae make babies. Mama, are ye prepared? Are yefortified?D’ye need a wee snack…”
“Fiona, I swear tae Christ…”
“Mum says she wants grandbairns by spring, Adam,no pressure…”
“Fee.”
“Aye, brother dearest?”
“Walk home.”
“Oh, fuck off, ye’re givin’ me a lift…”
“Walk home, Fee.”
“Adam, the house isfour milesaway!”
“Then ye’d best get started, lass.”
The guys areweeping.And so am I, the kind of laughing-crying that takes over when you’re in a warm bar, after a whisky your husband ordered for you, and three days of being loved by a Scottish family you hadn’t met a week ago.
Adam pulls his sister into a hug and kisses the top of her head.
“Be good. Get a ride with Davie. See ye in the mornin’.”
“Aye, ye’ll see me in the mornin’ lookin’annoyed,‘cause I’ll have heard ye through the wall…”
I put my hand over her mouth, laughing. “Fiona!”
“Goodnight!” she hollers
I’m laughing too hard to answer. Adam hauls me out the door with my hand in his, the whole bar going with hoots and whistles. Someone yells,Maksimov, ye absolute legend, get her home,and the bell clangs behind us into the cold.
The street is dark, the cobbles wet, the air clean in a way Halo City’s has never been. Smelling of moss and stone and far-off smoke. Adam pulls me into him under a lamp outside the pub and kisses me as if he hasn’t kissed me in fucking days. His big hands, on my face. All lips, tongue, teeth, and beard. Then he breathes against my lips, “Lisa, my fuckin’ wife.”
I laugh into his mouth, and he laughs back.
“Home, hen.”
“Yes, hubby.”
He gives me his wicked grin. “Aye, wifey.”
* * *
The Maksimov estate in the countryside of Edinburgh is a long stone house, set on a hill above a loch. We came up the gravel in an old Land Rover three days ago, and I have not stopped staringout of windows since. The land rolls, with sheep in the far field. The loch, still at the bottom of the hill, and the mountains past it rising. I fell in love with this place. I did not plan to.
I’m a city girl, born to humidity and concrete, and I came to Scotland fully intending to bepoliteabout it. Instead, I spent three days walking the hills with my hand in my husband’s, the wind through my hair, eating his mother’s cooking, letting Fiona teach me how to swear in Scottish, standing at the window watching the sun go down over water that turns pink and gold…and I just cracked wide open.
This ishis.The dirt he grew out of, the air he learned to breathe, the stones he leaned on as a boy. And he brought mehere.Hispeople took me in, and I am Lisa Maksimov of the Maksimovs in the Highlands.Lord,my life!
Adam drives up the gravel, with one hand on the wheel and the other heavy on my thigh. The headlights illuminate the front of the house. There’s still one light on in the kitchen window.
Adam lifts his chin toward it. “Mum’s up.”
“Aww, baby, it’s late.”
He grins, squeezing my knee. “She’s waitin’ on us. We’ll say hello, then go upstairs.”
