As lovely and interesting as Suzanne was now, Cash knew without a doubt he’d still have a hole in his life if Abby wasn’t in it even if he’d never met her.
They were simply meant to be.
He understood this was a ludicrously romantic notion.
And he didn’t give a fuck.
“Please don’t ask how things are going,” Abby, standing with her arm around Nicola as well as in the curve of Nicola’s arm, begged Suzanne.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, love,” Suzanne murmured, took off her coat and threw it on a chair. She sat beside Mrs. Truman and mumbled under her breath, “Abby’s obviously in a state. I sincerely hope you’re behaving yourself.”
Mrs. Truman’s eyebrows shot up, her hand came to her chest and she mouthed the word, “Me?” as if she was at all times the soul of kindness, affection and love.
It took a great effort of will for Cash not to burst out laughing.
“Yes, you,” Suzanne returned.
Mrs. Truman made a “pah” noise but said no more and Suzanne rolled her eyes at Cash.
With great energy and dedication, Mrs. Truman had insinuated herself in the lives of all of Cash and Abby’s family.
With alarming frequency, she was domineering, cantankerous and interfering.
With complete consistency, she was also unwaveringly loyal.
James threw his overcoat on a chair and sat beside Cash.
Cash turned his head to his friend and took off his reading glasses.
“How are things?” he asked.
James knew to what, or more precisely, to whom he was referring.
“Last night, I made progress,” James answered.
“Good,” Cash murmured.
“This morning, I lost it,” James went on.
Cash chuckled.
James’s voice dropped low. “Last night she told me some of what Alistair did to her. I’m guessing not all. Do you know what he did? The things he said?”
Cash regarded his friend and remained silent. James accurately read and deferred to Cash’s unspoken demonstration of loyalty to Suzanne.
“I’d like to know how, exactly, you stopped yourself from hunting that bastard down and committing murder,” James enquired, his voice still low and quiet but now it was vibrating with a barely controlled but understandable fury.
“His punishment is longer this way,” Cash replied.
James nodded though, Cash guessed, he didn’t entirely agree.
Cash had to admit he often wondered what the use was of Alistair’s continued existence on the planet. However he usually had these thoughts late at night while listening to Abby breathing in sleep at his side and Zee’s purring as Cash stroked him at his other and found he didn’t often dwell on them long enough to come to any conclusion.
Suddenly Cash’s gaze sliced to Abby, his senses so attuned to her that he didn’t need to see her to know her change in mood.
She was smiling tentatively at something as she called, “Well?”
Cash’s eyes moved to the door and he saw Cassandra, dressed somewhat normally for once, strolling in.
Although no longer having to work her questionable talents on their behalf, Cassandra had also become a fixture in their lives. Mostly at the many dinner parties Abby and Nicola, Jenny or Mrs. Truman held but often simply coming ‘round to the castle to drink herbal tea or, before Abby’s pregnancy, margaritas with Abby where they would cackle loudly about whatever-it-was women found to cackle about.
Cash did not have a good feeling about Cassandra’s arrival.
“Abby,” he muttered warningly but his wife either didn’t hear him or she ignored him.
He was guessing the latter.
Cassandra shook her head and approached Abby.
Cash stood, dropped his glasses on the chair he’d vacated and walked to his wife.
“Someone came up to me, mate. Asked me what I was doing. I had to abort the mission,” Cassandra said.
“What mission?” Cash asked a question to which he, to his intense frustration, already knew the answer.
Abby looked up at Cash. “I called Cassandra and asked her to come, make her way to the delivery room and send some pixie dust Jenny’s way.”
Yes, he was correct, he knew the answer.
“You asked Cassandra to send some pixie dust Jenny’s way,” Cash repeated with no small amount of consternation at his wife’s antics.
Abby looked up at him and jerked her head, shaking back her hair in a now-familiar act that announced her defiance.
“Yes,” she declared.
“Fucking hell,” Cash muttered.
“I hope you stop saying the f-word after our baby comes along,” Abby snapped.
“I hope you stop doing wild and ridiculous things so I won’t feel the need to curse after our baby comes along,” Cash returned.
Nicola emitted a stifled giggle. Cassandra grinned.
“I am who I am,” Abby shot back and at her words, Cash relaxed.
Then he smiled.
“Yes, you are,” he murmured and he watched his wife’s face take on a look of surprise at his easy capitulation.
Then she smiled back.
He pulled her in his arms, she melted into his body and he felt the usual sense of peace having her in his arms gave him.
After all this time, nearly two years together, he’d never gotten used to the ease she brought to his life. He also hoped he never did. If he did, he’d lose the understanding of just what a precious gift it was.
There was a commotion at the door and Angus stormed in, his kilt awhirl.
“What’d I miss?” he shouted.
“Nothing, McPherson. We don’t have any news. Sit down and don’t be so loud!” Mrs. Truman demanded tartly (as well as loudly).
“How many times do I have to tell you, woman, stop ordering me about!” Angus retorted.
“You keep behaving like a man with a dozen screws loose, I’ll stop telling you what to do when they’re shovelling dirt on my coffin,” Mrs. Truman replied.
They entered a glaring contest. Unsurprisingly Mrs. Truman won.
Angus stomped to Cash and Abby’s circle and Cash dropped one arm, holding Abby to him with the other.
Angus’s face had gentled when he looked at Abby. “How’re things, lass?”
“Not good,” Abby replied softly and Angus’s worried eyes moved to Cash.
Angus was not exactly a fixture in their lives. He’d come and he’d go. He was, he explained to them, quite busy with expunging the vast number of malevolent spirits that infected the British Isles. Nevertheless his visits, although not common, were regular.
Fortunately for Abby and Jenny who, at that present time, needed their friends close, Angus was working “a job” in the vicinity and using Penmort as what he referred to as his “headquarters”.
He’d told them over dinner the night before, the job was proving difficult.
“Well, I’ll give you something else to think about.” Angus moved close to Abby and his voice had grown quietly conspiratorial. “See, my new wee ghosty has a thing against blondes. She doesn’t like anyone particularly but she really doesn’t like blondes. I thought you could –”
Cash, his voice firm and inflexible, cut in with one word.
“No.”
Angus’s gaze came to him. “She’ll no’ be in any danger.”
“No,” Cash repeated.
“You know I know what I’m doing,” Angus kept trying.
Cash clenched his jaw then repeated yet again but even more firm and far more inflexible, “No.”
“Fraser –” Angus started but Cash interrupted.
“First, Abby’s pregnant. Second, even if she wasn’t, there is no fucking way in hell I’d allow her to get caught up in another of your hunts.”
“Cash,” Abby murmured soothingly but it was Cash’s turn to ignore her.