Golden Luckenbooth

Fifty-Four

I drop the plate I'd been cleaning, twisting quickly to see Blair's cheeks flushed a rosy pink as I turn off the tap. "The water was too loud, I think. I thought I heard you say that Arran is living with you, but that's impossible."

Her eyes won't meet mine. "Not exactly impossible."

My heart is pounding. Blair and Arran? Together? I know it's what I wanted for them, but... "I was only gone two days, and the two of you were barely talking then. But now he's moved in with you?"

"Oh, Anna," she scoffs, "I'm not sure why you're surprised. Neither of us is exactly normal."

"Not where the other is concerned for sure," I mutter.

"Are you disappointed in me?" She chews her bottom lip with her teeth, eyes downward before bouncing to my face and then flitting away. Her hands, clasped in front of her, betray her emotions as her thumbs cross left over right and then reverse.

Blair is my best friend, and she didn't judge me when I ended up pregnant. How can she think I'd treat her differently for sleeping with the intern I've been repeatedly planting in her path? Playing with the charms on my necklace, I contemplate her question. Disappointed? "Nope. I'm..." My mind plays with various emotions, attempting to name the correct one. Finally, I settle on "...worried, I guess. This seems really fast for you, Blair." Drying my hands on a towel, I sit in a chair next to her at the table, pushing aside my empty tea cup. "You're usually the one who jumps in right away for sex, but moving in together? That seems unlike you."

"Would it help if I told you that we've not slept together?"

"Slept as in eyes closed, dream state, body relaxed, curled up in bed?"

"No. Slept as in fucking."

My brain is churning a mile a minute at her statement. The chemistry between them has been undeniable. How can they not have done the deed yet? I rub my temples with both hands as my brain is starting to hurt at her confessions. "I think you need to start at the beginning."

Blair settles back in her chair, and, although she's wearing a classy suit, she draws one foot onto the chair and wraps her arms around her knee. "Okay. You know how Arran and I ran into each other that night at the market when I went for a run?"

"Mhm." I daren't say more for fear she discovers I'm the one responsible for that little impromptu rendezvous.

"We got to talking about your situation, and how busy you always are, and how tired pregnancy can make a woman, and that's when the idea hatched to redesign Arran's room into the nursery."

"It's truly gorgeous," I interject, genuine appreciation infused in my voice.

But she waves away my gratitude, deep into her storytelling mode. "We started talking about colours, and Arran texted me different shades. It was...titillating." She shifts on her chair, and I imagine how it might feel having a sexy man engage with her in this way. "You could not imagine how many combinations we went through. Bright pink. Dark blue. Sunny yellow. Pastels. Paisley. Plaid." She waves away my feeble protests about plaid and paisley not being colours. "When I suggested beige as an option, I was certain it would be shot down, so I was surprised when Arran agreed."

"I see." Trying to keep her talking, I draw on all of the noncommittal phrases I use with my clients when they're telling me about their pet's illness.

"And the rest of it snowballed from there. The crib was handmade by Mr. Carson. He was so excited to contribute something after you helped him find a new puppy after Moose had to be put down. Cara found out about the project, and she located the rocking chair. It just needed to be re-covered to match the colour scheme. Cara loves creative projects. Morag is the one who suggested the clouds for the ceiling, using sheared wool from her family's sheep."