Fiona knew he’d been through this before, of course, and he had, with effort, built a life where it was like Isabella Austin had never even been there.
Dougal shifted uncomfortably.
“You should know, Annie has these ideas about Isabella –” Dougal started but Prentice shook his head.
“It’ll be fine.”
“She says there’s reasons –”
“I know she does, she’s tried to explain them to me, without making much sense. She’s Isabella’s friend, she’d try to find some excuse for the way she behaved, no’ only to me but no’ showing up when Annie nearly died. They’re good friends, it’s natural and it doesn’t mean a thing to me,” Prentice stated and when Dougal looked dubious, Prentice approached him and said, “No’ a damned thing, mate.” Prentice’s voice became low again when he continued, “It’s been a long time, Dougal, we’ve all moved on.” Then Fiona watched as her husband grinned his devastating, wicked grin. “Except you, of course.”
Dougal relaxed and smiled back. “That’s me, stuck in a rut.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Annie you called her a rut.”
Fiona laughed a silent laugh. Annie would hate that.
Dougal’s laugh (seeing as he was alive) sounded jovially throughout the room.
The door flew open nearly hitting Dougal in the back and Annie was there.
Her hair was wild (it was always wild, a long mixture of thick, dark blonde frizz and curls, it was manic and gorgeous, just like Annie). On her petite but rounded, body she was wearing tight-fitting jeans, a green t-shirt that said, “All the other kids are doing it” on the front in yellow and blue lettering and a ratty-assed olive drab cardigan that nearly went down to her knees.
“Bella and Mikey are here!” she screeched excitedly, then turned on her Wellington-clad foot and ran from the room.
Dougal and Prentice watched her go.
Dougal sighed before he turned to Prentice. “You know I love her.”
“I do,” Prentice replied, his fantastic lips twitching.
“You know I love her a lot.”
Prentice chuckled. “I do.”
“I didn’t love her that much, mate, no way in hell I’d walk out of this room and spend a whole f**king week trying to be nice to that bitch.”
Prentice shook his head, clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder and they both walked out of the room.
Fiona floated behind them remembering again why she really, really liked Dougal.
They followed the screeching, Annie’s mixed with an unknown, and unusual, masculine-esque shriek.
When they approached the foyer Annie and the man from the drive were in each other’s arms, jumping up and down.
Isabella Austin Evangelista (the daft cow) was standing to the side, eyes on her friends, hugging her elbows in her hands with what looked (shockingly, to Fiona’s way of thinking) like an actual genuine (but very small) grin on her perfectly lip-glossed lips.
“Bella.” They heard and her eyes moved coolly to the stairs then Fiona watched in dismay as her face melted when she saw Fergus.
Good God, could the bitch be any more beautiful?
Fiona felt Dougal go tense and Prentice stopped moving forward altogether as Isabella’s face changed again, the small grin widened, brightened and the room lit with the radiance of her smile.
Yes, Fiona thought with irritation, the bitch could be more beautiful.
“Fergus,” she breathed softly, turned and rushed quickly to the stairs and up four of them to embrace Fergus.
There was nothing cool and disdainful in her embrace for Fergus.