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I rub a palm on my chest and close my eyes. "This was a few days after I learned Una had given birth to a baby girl. She and her partner had done in vitro with a sperm donor. I learned this from Lilias when I ran into her in Ballachulish. Somehow over the years, she and Una had become friends."
Should I tell Emery this? It doesn't matter, not when she'll leave me at the end of a year. But something compels me to go on.
"Lilias was excited," I continue. "She showed me pictures of Una's baby, and of the three children she had with the boy she'd—" I hesitate, waiting for the lump in my throat to soften. "The teenager she'd become involved with while she was married to me. He's an adult now, of course. They married and have a wonderful life together with their children. Una is equally blessed, Lilias said. She also mentioned Isobel, gossip she'd heard about her. Apparently, my first wife was never able to have children, but she's happily married."
"That must've been hard to hear."
I nod solemnly. "I'm pleased for them, of course. And I might not have minded hearing about their joyful lives if Lilias hadn't also said—She told me I looked sad. Lonely. She offered to arrange for me to meet a woman she knew."
"Your cheating ex-wife wanted to set you up on a blind date?"
"Aye." Peering out at the loch, I feel a strange longing rising from deep within me, a need borne of pain I've kept sequestered for years. "I thanked Lilias for the offer but politely declined, then I excused myself. Said I had an appointment to keep. For days after, I kept wondering why my ex-wives seem happy while I'm…not." I stare at the horizon, unable to glance at Emery for fear of what I might find in her eyes. "When I saw the manse, forsaken and unwanted, I felt a kinship with the house. Ridiculous, I know. But it spoke to me, and I thought I might like to come here once in a while to… I don't know. Wallow in seclusion. I bought the manse the next day, over the phone, without ever setting foot inside it. I paid people to renovate and furnish it. I still pay people to care for the place."
"You never visited the house until now."
Though I smile, it's rueful. "Wallowing in desolation isn't as appealing as it seemed at first."
She slips her hands into mine. "Why did you bring me here?"
"You wanted to see the ocean."
"Don't be deliberately obtuse. You know what I mean. Why did you bring me to Skye, to the house you bought because it looked as melancholy and forlorn as you felt?"
I try to back away, but she won't let me go. "What makes you think I felt melancholy and forlorn?"
"You just told me." She inches closer. "The house was forsaken, unwanted, consumed by shadows. You felt a kinship with it. Takes a real genius to figure out you were talking about yourself when you described the house."
My lips twitch upward. "You are the cleverest woman I've ever met."
"I was being facetious."
And suddenly, I'm smiling at my wife like I haven't just bared my bloody soul to her. "I know. But you're still the cleverest."
She hops up to give me a quick kiss. "Let's get off this depressing jaunt down memory lane. You've had fun with me, haven't you?"
"Cannae help it. You insist on making me do ridiculous things."
Emery taps my chest. "You say it's ridiculous, but I've figured out that's Rory code for 'thanks for showing me a great time.' And you're welcome, by the way."
I splay my hands over her back. "Never could fool you, could I?"
"Nope. Why don't we go back to that lonely, desolate house of yours and find ways to have fun there. Maybe we can turn its frown upside-down too."
"If anyone can make a house smile, it's you."
After a meal at a local restaurant, we amble back to the manse. I enjoy my wife's body in every room except for the bedroom because I want to save that for last. We do more than shag, though. I share stories about my family and their barmy antics while Emery makes me laugh with tales of her family. In the evening, I suggest we play an erotic version of hide-and-go-seek, so I can sneak up on my wife and surprise her, then have a poke. But Emery wins our game after three rounds. I have a wee bit of trouble finding a place to hide since this house clearly was not built for a large man. Maybe the clergyman who once lived here was a leprechaun. During our last round of the game, my wife discovers me while I'm attempting to hide in a closet. I couldn't shut the door, though, because my feet wouldn't fit.
I do manage to seduce Emery in that closet, with the door wide open.
By the time we finish our evening meal and retire to the bedroom, the bleak mood I'd experienced during my confessions on the beach has faded away. I expected Emery to interrogate me about that sometime during the day or in the evening, but she never did. I said too much, and now she probably thinks she's made a terrible mistake by marrying me. If three women couldn't stand to be with me, how can I expect Emery to be any different? I am the problem, not my wives.
Emery sashays out of the bathroom wearing her black nightie and twirls in front of me.
I'm relaxing on the bed, in the nude, with the covers thrown back, admiring the view.
"Here I am," she says. "You seemed to like this nightie the first time I wore it. Thought an encore might be in order."
"Mo gaoloch, you are a masterpiece of sensual beauty."
