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  The rest I was taking with me, even though it would probably only last our time in Vegas.

  I double-checked I had my passport and quelled nausea that rose inside of me.

  Finally, the clock on my cell said it was midnight.

  As I slipped out of the house on West Washington Street, I wiped at my tears, not wanting Jim to think I was too torn up about going with him.

  I caught sight of the Mustang down the street as Jim climbed out of it. We hurried toward each other, my heart pounding so hard in my chest, I thought it might explode.

  And then I was in Jim’s arms and he was holding me tight, suppressing the hard shaking he could feel rattling through me. “Shh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my hair. “It’s all going tae be okay now.”

  I had to hope Jim was right because we were leaving for Vegas and I was about to bet everything I had on him.

  Tucking the polo shirt into my work pants, I looked at myself for barely a second in the mirror to make sure I was neat and tidy. I hated seeing myself in the uniform. With an inward sigh, I clipped my name tag above my left breast. I was just smoothing my hair back in its long ponytail when Jim appeared in the mirror behind me.

  He looped his arms around my waist and settled his chin on my shoulder to stare at me in the mirror. His hair was mussed, his cheeks stubbly, and he gave me that cute lopsided grin.

  Two years ago, my infatuation for him would’ve made me lean back into him, cover his hands on my belly with my own. Yet something had changed inside of me in the three years we’d been married. Maybe changed wasn’t the right word.

  Maybe the word I was looking for was realization.

  “I wish ye didn’t have tae go in for another hour. I don’t start until ten this morning. You and I could get a lot done in an hour.” He squeezed me closer and gave me a wicked smile.

  I was still attracted to my husband. So that was something. But it got churned up in all my other feelings, or non-feelings rather, and it made me pull out of his arms. “Sorry, can’t.”

  As I walked into our small, open-plan sitting room/kitchen, I felt him following me.

  “I wish tae fuck I knew what was going on yer head,” he bit out impatiently. “But I never do.”

  Not wanting an argument before work, I looked over my shoulder at him as I shoved my feet into my comfortable black shoes and teased, “I thought that’s what you liked about me.”

  Hurt flickered in his dark eyes before he hid it from me. “It was sexy at first. Now it’s a bad joke.”

  Guilt flared across my chest in an ache, and I got defensive. “You knew who I was when you married me, Jim.”

  “Aye.” He nodded, turning angry. “I just thought after three years of fucking marriage, ye’d let me in once in a while.”

  I thought of last night and the way I’d let him in on our couch. I looked at it pointedly.

  If anything, it made him angrier, although there was heat in his eyes too. “Oh aye, baby, ye’ll let me fuck ye anyway I want … but God forbid I try tae cuddle ye.”

  We stared at each other like two opponents, wishing and wondering why we had to have this same conversation every few weeks. It felt like we’d been doing this battle for at least a year.

  “Is this about college?” he snapped.

  My guilt momentarily faded and was replaced by frustration. I grabbed my purse and strode toward the door. “I haven’t got time for this.”

  “Well, make time.” He was fast, suddenly towering over me, his hand pressed against our front door.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  Jim suddenly gentled and reached out to cup my cheek. “Baby, ye know we don’t have the money for it. Tae get into school here, ye’d have tae pay for open university tae get the qualifications ye need … and ye don’t even know what ye want tae do with yer life.”

  “I know I don’t want to be stacking shelves in a supermarket.” I hadn’t left the US to be right back where I’d started!

  Guilt tightened his features. “Look, I’m working hard, and in a few years, I might even make gaffer. It’ll be more money, and you might not even have to work at all. We’ll have kids by then, and ye can be here with them.”

  The thought made me shudder inside. “I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. Especially since it’s not about you making more money, Jim. It’s about me making more money, doing something with my life that I’m proud of, and right now, I’m not qualified to do anything.”

  “I don’t look at it like ye’er putting pressure on me. I want tae give ye a good life, so ye dinnae have tae worry about working. We’re a team.”

  He never heard me. As much as I tried to make him listen, he never really heard me. But I didn’t want to argue about it. “I know that.”

  He looked at me warily. “Do ye?”

  Two weeks later we were back to normal, sticking our heads in the sand and pretending our marriage was fine. But our marriage wasn’t fine. It was littered with broken promises.

  On our wedding day, I’d promised to love and cherish my husband, believing that I did and I would.

  And when he’d asked me to marry him, Jim promised that with him, I’d do and have everything I wanted. That wasn’t true. Edinburgh was expensive, and although education wasn’t as expensive as back home, it was still out of our financial reach. There were ways, but it would mean struggling along for a bit. It was possible, though. Of course, it was. But Jim didn’t support the idea, and without his support, I couldn’t do it.

  I don’t know if it was childish resentment, or if the sad fact was all I’d ever felt for my husband was naïve infatuation, but one morning I woke up and realized I’d broken my promise to love him. I did love Jim … but I wasn’t in love with him. I’d married my friend, not my best friend, and as it turned out, there was a pretty damn big difference.

  In truth, I knew we were heading for a collision but the thought scared me almost as much as the idea of this being my life forever. Sometimes it felt like I’d swapped countries, not situations, but that wasn’t true. At least with Jim, I had a supportive family and a group of friends who made me smile.

  Despite being shocked and wary of me when I’d first arrived in Edinburgh, Jim’s mother, Angie, and his older sister, Seonaid, came to care for me. They had little choice, I suppose because, for those first few months, we lived in their cramped three-bedroom house in Sighthill. Sighthill, I discovered, was about twenty minutes west, outside of the city center.

  I didn’t care for the area where Jim grew up. It was the city center that I fell in love with. It was hard not to. There was the amazing architecture, of course—the neoclassical and Georgian buildings in New Town were gorgeous. When I first walked around New Town, I could imagine myself in Regency dresses, acting out a Jane Austen novel.

  Then there was the castle. Edinburgh Castle sat on an extinct volcano between Old and New Town, a mammoth king perched upon his throne, watching over his kingdom. More than anything, I would’ve loved a home with a view of that majestic building, but Jim and I would have to quadruple our annual income and then some to afford a place anywhere with a view like that.

  Edinburgh was beautiful. Scotland was beautiful. It was everything I’d imagined and more.

  Old Town was charming as well, but in a different way to New Town. The university was there, and of course, that held my interest. And my longing.

  There was also the Royal Mile, a Reformation-era street with cobbled roads and dark, atmospheric alleyways.

  The city was more than its looks. New Town was where the money was, with beautiful apartments, lawyers, accountants, and psychiatrists, high-end shopping malls, cocktail bars, five-star restaurants, and luxury boutique hotels. It was aspirational, and appealed to that secret part of me that wondered what life would be like if money were no obstacle.

  Old Town was more complex. It was casual, down-to-earth, arty, pretentious, fun-loving, serious, quirky, and staid. It bustled with students, and I think ma
ybe that was why it was a jumble of every vibe you could think of. And I loved it because it meant no matter who you were, there was a place for you there.

  As for Leith, an area down by the Shore, I liked it too. It was down by the waterfront, a mishmash of money and not so much money. Luxury apartments were built by the water, there were Michelin-star restaurants, cosmetic surgery clinics, and the Royal Yacht Britannia. But there were also pubs that didn’t look like they’d seen a good scrub in a while, and a mall with stores for people with lower to middle incomes. I’d gotten a job at a supermarket in Leith, and Jim made okay money at his construction job. Although we were saving most of our money to buy a house, and it was a push on our income to do so, Jim wanted a nice place for me and rented us a one-bedroom apartment a mere fifteen-minute walk from the shore, and my job at the supermarket.

  Soon after we moved in, Seonaid got a place a block from us. Until I saw his sister’s name in writing, I thought it was spelled Seona because it was pronounced see-oh-nah. Apparently, there was a mild controversy around her name, as most people thought it should be pronounced “Shona.” She left school at sixteen, and under advisement from her mom, deliberately softened her accent so it sounded more anglicized, and started working in a hair salon. She’d worked her butt off to eventually get a job in this fancy hair salon in New Town. She was making what Jim and I made combined and could afford a nice place on her own. I liked having her near as she’d become my closest friend here.

  Any free time we had, we usually spent with Roddy and Seonaid. Sometimes we were joined by Seonaid’s friends and guys Jim and Roddy worked construction with. But more often than not, if it was an impromptu pub visit, it was just the four of us.

  Just as it was a Sunday a few weeks after Jim and I had argued about the future. Again.

  We’d met up with Seonaid and Roddy at Leith’s Landing, a pub right on the shore. On a sunny day, we loved sitting outside by the water. But I’d come to find that sunny days were almost a rarity in Scotland, and if I missed anything more than I missed my family, it was the Indiana summers.

  “Oh, what an arsehole,” Roddy huffed, chugging back more of his lager as he watched the huge TV screen behind Seonaid’s head. There was a soccer game on, and although Jim and Roddy had been commenting on the game for the last thirty minutes, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell you who the hell was playing.

  Soccer made my eyes glaze over and my hearing switch to mute.

  Despite Jim having his arm around me, I thought I had ceased to exist as I usually did when the guys were watching soccer. Seonaid had been telling me about an actress whose hair she’d cut during the week. She couldn’t tell me who but we were having fun playing the guessing game.

  It surprised me then when Jim suddenly turned to me and said, “I booked us intae a lodge in Loch Lomond in two weeks’ time. Friday tae Sunday. Thought ye might like it.”

  I looked into his familiar-as-my-own face. Jim had an ability to disarm me and trigger my guilt. Despite knowing how we liked our coffee, which sleeping position made us snore, what foods gave us gas, and how much toilet paper we each went through in a week, my husband didn’t know me. But then he’d make me feel guilty over my despair by doing something sweet that almost made up for it.

  Since I’d moved here, Jim had tried to show me parts of Scotland whenever we had time. Usually, during the summer we’d take time off work and rent a caravan (like a camper van that was permanently situated in a holiday park) or stay at a lodge somewhere. So far, Loch Lomond was my favorite place. There was something about being surrounded by hills and tranquil water that made me feel at peace for a while. And peace was a hard thing for me to grasp on to.

  “Yeah?”

  Jim pressed a soft kiss to my lips. When he pulled back, he studied me, a small crease between his brows. “I think we need a wee break away together.”

  My ugly subconscious wanted to argue that a weekend break to Loch Lomond wasn’t going to solve our problems, but like Jim, I hoped for a miracle. “It sounds great.”

  “What are you whispering about?” Seonaid said loudly across the table.

  I grinned. “None of your beeswax.”

  She smirked. “Is it about uni?”

  Her question immediately made me tense against Jim, and his arm locked tight around me. He cut his sister a scowl. “What are ye talking about?”

  Seonaid frowned and looked at me. At the sight of my wide eyes, ever-so-slightly shaking head, and clenched jaw, she raised an eyebrow. “Um …”

  Jim looked down at me. “What about uni?”

  “Nothing.”

  He cursed under his breath and turned back to his sister. “What about uni?”

  Seonaid’s gaze slid back and forth between me and her brother; clearly, she decided not to listen to me. “I looked into Edinburgh Uni’s admission and turns out Nora could get in.”

  “What?” Baffled, Jim stared at her.

  “Edinburgh University,” Seonaid said slowly. “Nora could get in.”

  “How the fuck could Nora get into Edinburgh Uni?” Roddy suddenly said without looking away from the game. “It’s one of the top twenty universities in the world. Fourth in the UK.”

  Seonaid snorted. “How the hell do you know that?”

  Roddy tore his eyes away from the screen to give her a droll look. “I ken ye think I’m a thick fuck, but I can read, ye ken, Cee-Cee.”

  “I don’t think you’re a thick fuck. Just a lazy one.” She grinned unrepentantly.

  His lids lowered ever so slightly. “I’m not lazy when it matters.”

  No one could mistake the innuendo in his voice. Seonaid rolled her eyes and turned back to Jim. I’d soon discovered that Roddy was the only one who called Seonaid Cee-Cee (a nickname she thought didn’t even make sense and was ridiculous, but that she allowed nonetheless). There was something between them I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Jim seemed oblivious to it. Either that or he was pretending (something he was good at) nothing existed between his sister and best friend but friendship. I wasn’t sure that was true. Perhaps on Seonaid’s part, but I wasn’t convinced on Roddy’s. He flirted with her all the time, but he was so blunt, dry, and sarcastic, I think Seonaid assumed it was all banter. Plus, she was four years older, so I don’t think it even crossed her mind that the guy who’d grown up with her kid brother might fancy the pants off her.

  “How … wait …” Jim lowered his arm from around my shoulders and turned to me. “How can ye get intae Edinburgh Uni? And tae study what?”

  Dreading an argument, especially after our last one in which Jim made it clear school was not an option, I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter.”

  “Wait,” Seonaid leaned across the table, “are you telling me you haven’t told him about your amazing SAT scores?”

  “SAT what?”

  I could hear the agitation in his voice and wanted to kill his sister. “Seonaid, leave it.”

  “No, don’t leave it,” Jim huffed. “Tell me.”

  “SAT’s are like our highers and advanced highers,” Seonaid explained. “You need a good score to get into university. If you’re from the States and want to go to Edinburgh, you need a score of at least an 1800 along with two AP classes at grade four. Nora got a 2100 on her SAT’s and has three AP classes at grade five.”

  “I dinnae know what the fuck that means,” he snapped.

  Seonaid huffed. “It means your wife is incredibly fucking smart. Something I’d thought you’d surely know by now.”

  Jim stared down at me like he’d never seen me before. “Why didn’t I know this?”

  “That I’m smart?”

  “I know ye’er smart, for Christ’s sake.”

  Did he? Really?

  “Ye’er always reading.” He shrugged.

  “Well, as Roddy just proved, even numbnuts can read, Jim,” Seonaid said.

  “My nuts are no’ numb,” Roddy replied. “One lick would prove that
tae ye.”

  Jim cracked him across the head with the palm of his hand.

  Roddy shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Too far?”

  Ignoring him, Seonaid reached for her brother’s hand, eyes bright with excitement. “Can you imagine Nora at Edinburgh Uni? No one in our family could even have imagined getting into Edinburgh! Mum would be so bloody proud if Nora got in.”

  My pulse raced at the thought of attending the university, of being among those students I envied every time I passed them in their university hoodies, soaking up knowledge along with like-minded people who enjoyed learning. And making Angie and Seonaid proud would be icing on the cake.

  He looked at his sister like she was speaking another language.

  And then his voice turned accusatory as he turned to me. “Tae study what?”

  “Psychology,” Seonaid spoke for me again.

  Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck would ye study psychology?”

  “Uh, I don’t know,” Seonaid got defensive, “maybe so she can go into clinical psychology, or education, or health, or further education, or fucking anything that will actually mean something to her.”

  Jim glowered at her. “Would ye mind letting my wife speak?”

  Seonaid cut him a dirty look before settling back and taking a gulp of wine.

  Silence fell over the table.

  “Well?”

  I sighed. “Jim, it’s a moot point, isn’t it?”

  “Do ye know how expensive it is?”

  “Because I’m a UK resident now, it’s less than a few grand a year.” After two years of marriage, I was able to apply for permanent residency so the fees were considerably less for a Scottish student.

  “A few grand? Aye, and tae do what? That’s oor money for a house,” he argued. “We talked about this.”

  Anger, embarrassment, and guilt flooded me, flushing my cheeks. “I know. That’s why I never brought it up.”

  After studying me, Jim seemed satisfied I was telling the truth, and he relaxed. Marginally. His arm slid back around my shoulder, but its weight no longer felt comforting. It felt oppressive, like a claim.