Page 38
“Cullen what?”
“Cullen skink. It’s a Scottish dish and is just what you need when the days draw in and it’s getting colder. Smoked haddock, potatoes, onion, butter, milk—boom! It’s so good. Come in! Get your slippers on. I’ll serve up.”
He hurries back to the tiny portable stove and stirs a pot. I’m too thrown to object, so I do as he says, putting my slippers on and closing the door behind me. I quickly pop to the loo and am checking my reflection while washing my hands when I catch myself. What am I doing? I’m not trying to impress him!
Back out in the main room, I sit at the table, which Aidan has set. There’s a hunk of crusty bread on my side plate.
“All right, here you go.” Aidan places a steaming bowl in front of me.
The thick broth is light cream in colour. Large pieces of flaky white smoked haddock are mixed with chunks of potatoes, and it’s topped with parsley.
I’m not normally a fan of fish soup, and it seems a bold choice for Aidan to have made. I’ve got to admit, though, it looks and smells really appetising.
Aidan picks up his spoon. “Go on, tuck in!”
I do, and as soon as the soup hits my tongue, flavours explode in my mouth—the creamy richness of the broth, the buttery haddock, the earthy potatoes, and a burst of freshness from the parsley.
“This is really good,” I admit. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Well, my maw is a chef: I’ve learnt a thing or two. Some days, I don’t have the patience to make something from scratch, but for a special occasion, always.”
“Oh? And what’s the special occasion this evening?”
A smile creeps onto his lips. “You’re letting me stay in your flat? We’re having a wee girl? It turns out I’m brilliant at yoga? Take your pick.”
“Not the last one anyway. That was the worst class I’ve conducted in a long time. You were a distraction!”
“In what way?”
“You know exactly in what way. The flirting and the winking.”
“Hey! It’s not my fault I’m irresistible.”
I glower at him. Yes, I don’t want Aidan to make a move on me, but I also don’t want to see him getting on so well with other women. I’m carrying his child, after all.
“On the topic of my irresistibility,” Aidan continues, ignoring the daggers I’m shooting his way, “I bought myself some PJs, just like you asked.”
“Good.” I should be happy I won’t be seeing him in his boxers anymore, so why this pang of disappointment? To take my mind off it, I have some more of the hearty, filling soup.
“So, now we know it’s a wee lass, are there any names you like?”
This is something I’ve been mulling over today. Every time I greeted a female student, I found myself assessing her name to see if it’d be a good fit.
“Hmm, there are names I like, but I want to find one that really resonates with me.”
“We should go for something Scottish. There are some beautiful Gaelic names.”
I purse my lips. “And what makes you think you get a say?”
“Er . . . because I’m her da?”
“Right, and you’re her dad because we had sex—a short and pleasurable experience for you. As for me, I’ve had to deal with morning sickness, I’m tired all the time, I’m getting fat, and after carrying her for nine months, I’ll have to push her out of me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s admirable you’ve come down here and are trying to get to know me—it’s more than I expected—but don’t go overstepping the mark. I will be making the decisions about my child. Understood?”
Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it’s because I’m tired and out of sorts, but it’s quite the put-down. I’m likely being too harsh, given Aidan has just made a lovely meal for me, but before I can apologise, his lips curl up.
“A protective mother already. I like that.”
Ugh, I’ve just criticised him, and he likes that? This man is infuriating. It’d make things so much easier if he had a few really unattractive qualities. Apart from the whole addicted-to-sex-but-not-commitment thing, he’s kind of perfect.
