I hold my wife tighter, praying our vows outweigh the innate craving of violence born into me as a MacKenzie. She’s asking me if we can stop arguing, hugging me with all her might.
“Leith, you made a beautiful home for us. I’m grateful, but since the beginning of the year, you’re so busy.”
“I know.” The muscles in my jaw twist at the thought of today. I should redirect the conversation. I should bloody give in. I shouldn’t have murdered that eejit today.
She stares at me questioningly. “Leith, we were looking at houses in the Valley in May after the weather wasn’t so gloomy.”
By June, I’d found us a new house near work. A beautiful place Chevelle could make her own. It wasn’t as impressive as this one. But we’d have had funds left over to put down on a business, a few blocks away. It was a coffee shop. The owner was a downright good lad, ready to sell. I would’ve taken her to the rundown shop first, blindfolded, of course. Tell her all the things she could do with the place once we bought it. Remove the canvas photos of coffee beans, toss around shiny shite. Make it her pub. Then I would’ve told her that I’m no eejit, of course, we’re moving here. Once she made that pub a success, we would upgrade to a more prime location. And my sweet hen, always humble, would’ve thanked me in every way I taught her.
But I stop contemplating the feel of her soft body cupped in my hands. I still have more shite I should say. Like how I’ll have a MacKenzie or one of our associates watching Chevelle, keeping her and my wee one safe while I’m away. That there will be no pub in her near future. That we’re not moving to Silicon Valley. Then the lass will have questions to which I have no answers.
“How will I run a bar if you refuse to let me work, Leith?” Chevelle asks.
“Easy. I’m picking the arseholes on yer team.” They’ll all be clan loyal and capable of keeping ye safe.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” She huffs. “If you’re so worried about me bartending, why don’t we downgrade the house. We could save that way.”
“Dinna concern yerself.”
“Don’t be concerned?” She chortles. “Leith, love, we can move back into our old house. It would save money in two ways. One, no mortgage, and two, you could quit Infinity Corp and freelance again, no commuting. The apps you created before working at Infinity were amazing. You enjoyed it. Plus, more time at home.” My hen slowly walks her fingers up my chest.
In five, four, three, two, one, I drop a bomb, saying, “Erika lives there.”
Chevelle double chortles, steaming mad. She hates Erika with a passion. A few years ago, when the redhead moved from our hometown in Northern Scotland, half the MacKenzie lads were dogs in heat over her. Then they found out she’s a crack shot. Erika needed a low-key place to stay, and we were between renters.
“Leith, you neglected to tell me this.”
“Slipped my mind,” I mutter the wee lie for Chevelle’s sake. Erika keeps an eye on my girls while I’m away.
“Alright, don’t let my next statement slip your mind. Kick her ass out! We sell this house. Get some cushion money.”
“She’s leasing the place.” I lie.
“Leasing? Oh, I thought she was practically MacKenzie clan. Or is she paying some other way?” Chevelle folds her arms.
“Low, low as feck,” I grumble.
“Okay, you’re right. Sorry.” She pouts. “Leith, I apolo—”
“Nae, that mouth of yers got away from ye! Hen, we’re not flitting back to that clatty house. Mia can already swim. She has the ocean in her backyard and a pool on the roof. This house is—”
“A major bachelor pad,” she mutters. “What you bargained for. Pool on the roof. Gadgets galore. And the old house wasn’t shabby. It was cozy.”
Aye, I selected this house as a fat-arse show of my success. But the place in Silicon Valley was meant to be our forever home, her place. The home had all the details my hen would appreciate. A reading nook. A gardening area. Her eyes would have been pools of warm mahogany upon seeing the home I had chosen. In the end, someone else got the house.
“Chevelle, are we not living our dreams? Ye’ve almost got everything needed to start a business. These things dinna happen just because the sun shites over the horizon on a