“Oh.” She frowned, her green eyes, so like Murray’s, now filled with concern. “Why not?”
Murray cleared his throat and shot his mum a look she ignored.
I took a sip of water as my pulse raced. For some reason, it always felt like a failing on my part that my parents didn’t give a shit about me. “My mom is a cardiothoracic surgeon, and my dad is a neurosurgeon. They’re both top in their fields and their work consumes their lives.”
“Well, that’s very impressive, but I’m sure they miss you.”
“Mum—”
“They don’t.” I gave her a tight smile, thinking of Kelly and hoping my being honest might make her feel less alone. “My mother and father lost the tiny bit of interest they had in me when it was clear I didn’t want to become a surgeon.”
“Oh.” Fiona looked bemused. “I won’t get to meet them, then?”
“They don’t even know I’m married.”
“Well, I would?—”
“Have you tasted London’s food yet, Mum?” Murray cut her off. “She’s a fantastic chef.”
“I’ll cook next time,” I added.
“I’d like that.” She stared at me with the kind of worry you might show a child. It was sweet but also made me feel vulnerable in the worst way.
“How was your day?” I changed the subject, glancing around the table.
I noted Murray seemed to wipe his expression clear before he spoke. “I talked with the head teacher at the high school, and they’ve contacted Kelly’s old school for her paperwork so we can get her back into class.”
“Are you looking forward to going back to your old school?” I turned to Kelly.
She shrugged. “I was only at the island high school for a few months before we left for Edinburgh. But Anna and Lucas are there, so they’re excited I’m home.”
We chatted more about what Kelly needed for starting high school on the island, and we covered safe topics, never touching upon her mom or that whole situation. I wondered if she and Fiona had already had a heart-to-heart about it.
“Don’t you have your first gig coming up?” Fiona asked Murray as we cleaned the dishes after dinner.
“In a few weeks. At the Lantern.”
“I never get to hear you play,” Kelly huffed.
“That’s not true. But we usually play late when you’re in bed.”
“I’m fourteen now, Dad. I don’t go to bed at eight o’clock anymore. I could come to the Lantern to see you play.”
“You know Aodhan doesn’t allow under eighteens in the bar after 8 p.m.” Murray ruffled his daughter’s hair as he passed.
“Then can’t you do an earlier gig?”
“Or you could just listen to your dad play now.” Fiona grinned mischievously at her son. “I haven’t heard you play the guitar for a while. And I bet London has never heard you play guitar.”
“I haven’t.” I stepped forward, intrigued. “I’d love to.”
There was the slightest flush at the top of Murray’s cheekbones, but when Kelly pleaded, “Aye, please, Dad, play something,” I could see the soft affection on his face. There was very little he wouldn’t do for his daughter.
Those butterflies of attraction flared to life again as we followed him into the music room. Fiona sat on the couch with Kelly, and I perched on the arm of it, while Murray took a guitar off the wall and sat across from us on a wooden chair.
“What are you going to play?” Kelly asked as her father tuned the instrument.
He gave her a wink in answer.