“She didn’t want London, Tierney, and Cammie to go with her?” London hadn’t mentioned it, and I was glad because I’d have worried sick about her the entire time.
“Nah, they’re all sorted, apparently.”
Quinn and Taran’s wedding was only five weeks away.
“Heard from Jill yet?” Forde asked, attempting to sound nonchalant.
The thought of my ex-wife still made my blood boil. However, as London reminded me constantly, a mother like Jill was better an absent parent than a present one. Not even a few days after the Walsh brothers’ arrest, my solicitor contacted me. Apparently, Jill sold the house a week before “the mission.” My solicitor had only just found out from Jill’s.
And Jill was missing.
The police were looking for her as she was a key witness in the case against Dorian and Joshua.
She’d left. No word to her daughter.
Just gone.
What kind of mother did that?
Kelly had been despondent at first, but her friends kept her busy over the summer holidays. Whatever miraculous resilience existed within my daughter kicked in. Again. She’d promised she was fine. In fact, “I’m glad,” she’d said. Kelly assured me she felt safer knowing Jill wasn’t around to cause custody problems. Still, I worried about her. London had suggested a back-to-school shopping weekend in Oban as a pick-me-up, and I hadn’t the heart to say no. Therefore, we would travel over to the mainland in a few days’ time. I’d booked us a waterside lodge at a holiday park just outside the town center.
“No word,” I finally answered Forde as my attention moved from Kelly to London.
London wore a pair of frayed denim shorts with her wellies, a green crew neck T-shirt with Leth Sholas printed across thechest, loosely tucked in. Her shoulder-length hair was tied up into a ponytail, and it swished behind her in the slight breeze as she laughed at something Nee said.
My wife looked ridiculously sexy in the shorts and wellies. Like one of those festival girls. Heat thrummed through me as she felt me staring, her big smile softening into something sultrier as she returned my gaze.
“Fuck, I’m surrounded by men who are simps for their women,” Forde scoffed.
I frowned, not knowing what a simp was.
Ramsay apparently did. “Our women want us back, fuckface.”
I snorted at Forde’s offended expression, but my amusement died when Ramsay explained a simp was a desperate, submissive male showering theirunreciprocatedlove interest with attention.
“Youarea fuckface.”
“Uh!” Forde gaped at me. “You two are very sensitive today.”
“You just called us simps.” Ramsay glowered. “Fuckface.”
“Stop calling me fuckface. Christ, you’re as bad as Cammie.” Forde scowled in the direction of said blond.
Curious, I nudged him. “What’s up with that? How come you two are always at each other’s throats now?”
“She hates me, don’t you know.” The mechanic looked miserable as he watched Cammie wrap an arm around Tierney’s shoulders, laughing with our women as Aodhan soaked up the female attention.
“But why?” I narrowed my eyes. “Something else going on there?”
“Nope.”
Ramsay met my gaze over the top of Forde’s head, and I could tell he didn’t believe him either.
Still not happy about being called a simp, I pushed a little. “I haven’t really seen you with other women lately …”
He side-eyed me. “How would you know, locked up in your house with your wife?”
Ramsay made a noise of agreement. “Well, I haven’t been locked up, and I haven’t seen you with other women.”