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“It’s bonny, eh?” He faces me again, his eyes sparkling, their colour enhanced by the sea and the sky. He taps a button, and the background disappears. “Ha! Believe it or not, I’m not actually at the beach, just my maw’s place. That was my wee way of introducing today’s topic: travel!”

For each of our calls, Aidan has come up with a theme to guide the conversation, in case it trails off, I suppose. After all, apart from our best friends being engaged, we don’t know each other very well. We’ve never let the topic constrain us, though, and anyway, Aidan has this way of putting me at ease so that talking with him feels effortless and natural. As a pick-up artist, calming a woman’s nerves is probably one of his skills.

“Travel?” I scoff. “That’s hardly fair! You spent years travelling the world. I’ve not visited nearly as many places.”

“Well, it can be places you’ve been or places you want to go. It can even be places that don’t exist. Always wanted to receive a letter from Hogwarts? Now is your chance to tell me about it.”

“Ha! I may not be a seasoned traveller, but don’t worry, I’ve got some material. I shouldn’t need to resort to fictional locations. Anyway, you go first, travel man.”

Aidan and I swap stories. He tells me about teaching outdoor sports in faraway places like New Zealand and Australia, while I share some memories of holidays in Europe. I recount one of my favourite tales, about the time David attempted a bit of Spanish in a bar while chatting a guy up and got años and anos mixed up.

“It was an easy mistake to make,” I say, “but instead of asking the man how old he was—or literally, how many years he had—David asked him how many anuses he had.”

Aidan throws back his head and barks out a laugh. “Ha, brilliant! I take it that scared the guy off?”

“Actually . . . no. It got the two of them talking and led to a holiday romance.”

“Wow!” Aidan scratches his chin. “I consider myself an expert of the pick-up line, but that’s a new one for me. Next time I’m on the prowl, I’ll try asking a woman how many anuses she has and let you know how I get on.”

I shake my head, stifling a smile. It’s a stupid joke, and yet somehow, thanks to his charm, Aidan gets away with it.

“Of all the places you’ve visited, where was the most beautiful?” I ask.

“Hmm, it’s cheesy, but honestly? The Highlands.” Aidan shrugs. “I loved travelling, but nowhere won over my heart more than home.”

“That is cheesy, but it’s nice you live somewhere you love so much, and Bannock is pretty special.”

Aidan nods. “Anyway, how have you been feeling this week?”

“I’m doing well. The morning sickness has stopped, and my appetite has returned. My energy has too—I’m less tired in the evenings.”

“You’re eighteen weeks now, right? Are you showing yet?”

“If I wear something tight.”

“Really? Can I see the bump?”

“Er . . .” I glance down at my loose-fitting hoodie. I could lift it up—I’ve got a top on underneath—but would that set a dangerous precedent? We agreed at the start these chats would be purely platonic, and I’m not sure I like the idea of removing clothing on Aidan’s command.

“Hey, it’s my son or daughter you’re growing in there. Go on, show me!”

I tilt my head to the side. I’ve half a mind to tell him that if he wants to see my belly, he’ll have to flash me his abs. Thankfully, I catch myself. No, that would not be appropriate. Between his attractive features and charismatic manner, it would be all too easy to develop feelings for Aidan. I have to be careful to maintain the boundaries we’ve established.

“Please!” Aidan pleads. “I’m missing out by being up here. If I were in London and saw you in a tight top, I’d see your bump, so really, it’s only fair you show me on video.” He pauses then adds, “Although, obviously, don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I’m just saying I’d like to see it, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, all right.” I stand and adjust the tablet so I’m side-on to Aidan. A little self-consciously, I pull my hoodie up, exposing the lower part of my now curved and protruding stomach.

“Wow, you really are showing!”

“Thanks for that.” I tug the hoodie back down then return to the bed. “It’s still a small bump. It’s only going to get bigger.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. You look good! Pregnancy suits you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling.

Keep it together, Grace. Don’t let a simple compliment break down your walls.

“Is our pregnancy scandal still the talk of Bannock?” I ask, moving the conversation along, not wanting to dwell on how nice it felt for Aidan to say I looked good.