“My whole world had turned upside down, Allison.”

  “What about mine?” She stiffened. “You’d been my biggest fan, the strength I needed when I was afraid to try. And then you were gone. Or worse, you were hateful.”

  “Hateful?”

  Her eyes grew glossy, her pain still on the surface. “Do you even realize how you were then?”

  Air burst from me. “Allison, I barely remembered how to breathe each day for a few weeks, so no, I don’t remember.”

  Her eyes widened and then her jaw tensed. “You gave ultimatums. It was either give up my career or leave forever.” She stood. “That wasn’t fair.”

  I slowly came to my feet. “As I recall, you weren’t willing to compromise either. It was follow you to Edinburgh straightaway or don’t ever come at all.”

  “You pushed me away.”

  “Did I?” I raked a hand through my hair. “Or was I trying to keep you close because I needed you?”

  Stating the truth hit me. I had needed her. And she’d left. The pain had turned me inward, and I withdrew from everyone but my family. Then I focused upward when I realized no earthly being had the strength or ability to heal my heart. And that’s when I changed. When I found peace. When I began to heal.

  I drew in a breath to steady myself. Perhaps Allison hadn’t found her own peace. “I’d just lost my twin sister, Allison. My head wasn’t working and I may have pushed too hard for an answer because I . . . I wanted you near.”

  Some of the fight drained from her posture. “And I couldn’t handle being in the middle of all the . . . sadness. I had work I needed to do.”

  And the picture came clearer with each sentence. Mum had been right. We both were at fault. Her selfishness. My grief and need to control. It created a cataclysmic encounter where no one won. “I’m not the same I was then.” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have pressed for an answer, to expect you to stay. But I had a grieving little boy to think about and—”

  “I . . . I didn’t have the energy to manage you and your grief. The timing of everything was just . . . well, hard for everyone.”

  Katie would have stayed.

  The thought pushed through my mind. She would have given up everything to stay. I just knew it.

  “We both were wrong, Allison. And I’m sorry for my part.” I pushed my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “You were asking more from me than I could give. You wanted me to leave my family in the middle of our grief. I couldn’t.”

  Something shifted in her expression, a pleading sort of look. She took a step forward. “Are you saying that if you hadn’t been grieving, you’d have left Mull and come with me?”

  “Hadn’t I shown you enough? How much I loved you?”

  She drew another step closer, her eyes watery. “Then come with me. Let’s start over. You can craft and I can design. We can have the life we dreamed together.” She took my hand. “I . . . I’ve never stopped loving you, Graeme. I’ve tried to have other relationships, but no one has loved me the way you did. Can we have a second chance?”

  Katie

  I pulled my bicycle to a stop at the side of Graeme’s cottage and studied the silver SUV in the drive. Had I seen that car before? At Craighill?

  Mrs. Lennox? Seemed unlikely with only a few hours before the ball.

  Which reminded me of why I’d shown up a little early to the lunch date—I needed to cut it short because all guests were encouraged to be ready for promotional photographs an hour before the ball began. I looked down at the clock on my phone.

  Which meant a half hour for lunch, at most, and then I’d need to ride my bike back to Craighill to get a shower. I grinned as I thought about Graeme seeing me in that ball gown. I’d never had a Cinderella moment, but to be honest, I related the most to that particular princess because of her losing her shoe.

  Belle was way too clever to be relatable.

  Aurora too elegant.

  But a poor girl who kept soot on her face, occasionally talked to animals, and had a tendency to lose footwear? I could see myself in her.

  A half hour was enough time for some much-needed conversation with Graeme though.

  And maybe a snuggle with Lachlan and Wedge? Okay, Wedge snuggled. Lachlan wrestled.

  My phone buzzed in my hand and an unfamiliar and local number popped up.

  Katie, it’s Calum. Your book is brilliant. You are one of the most natural storytellers I’ve ever read.

  I stared at the phone for a good fifteen seconds, rereading the text. Seriously? He thought my book was “brilliant.”

  Me: Are you serious?

  Calum: I know it’s hard to believe with my ever-ready wit, but I am very serious. And I want your permission to share the book with my editor.

  It took about twenty seconds to comprehend that one. I’d looked up Calum—or his pseudonym, C.J. Cunningham—and he was published by one of the top publishing houses in the world. And he thought my book worth a look by them?

  Calum: It’s a great opportunity. Even if he doesn’t take it, which I highly doubt, he’ll give great feedback.

  And opportunities like this never came for new authors. Ever. Not that I was completely new, but definitely new to fiction.

  Calum: Katie, it’s a braw story.

  The compliment alone had me a little lightheaded.

  Me: I don’t want to miss the opportunity, Calum. And if you think it’s really worth a look???

  Calum: I do! I’ll send it right now to prove my point.

  Me: Are you serious?

  Calum: I don’t joke about excellent writing, Katie. That’s just rude.

  I chuckled, half because of his humor and the other half out of sheer disbelief.

  Me: Thank you so much. I’m a little astonished.

  Calum: Thank you for allowing me to read it. I see excellent possibilities here and will let you know what I hear. Is there another phone number or email address I could use to contact you after you leave Scotland? (Assuming you’re going to leave?)

  I had to leave. I had a job to do.

  Me: Was that a threat, premonition, or wish?

  Calum: I can see why Graeme likes you. Quick wit is a winning feature.

  Calum: But not a threat. I only make those in fiction. But as for the latter two? Perhaps. You do fit in rather well with our family, and it would be nice to have another writer around. No one else understands the plight of imaginary friends.

  I grinned, touched and amused by his words. The idea of leaving kept getting harder. But I . . . I didn’t want to give up traveling. Graeme had a hard enough time just talking about showing his work abroad, so how on earth would he handle a girlfriend who spent a large portion of her time as a nomad?

  Of course, if this turned out to be true love, I’d be willing to make certain sacrifices. But would he ask me to stop traveling entirely?

  I shook the thoughts away.

  You’re getting ahead of yourself there, Katie-girl. You’ve only had some life-altering kisses so far, not a proposal.

  With quick work, I sent along my email address and dismounted the bike I’d been using as a stool during my text conversation. I’d barely turned the corner of the house when Lachlan and Wedge came into view, the former scowling. The latter ran up to me for a greeting.

  “What’s the matter with you, Lachlan?”

  The boy rolled his eyes. “Lunch is going to be late.”

  I laughed. “That’s okay.” Then I frowned. “Hmm . . . but I may have to miss it because I have to get be at Craighill earlier than I thought.”

  “I’d rather be with you at Craighill than here. Uncle Graeme’s got a visitor, and I don’t like her.”

  Her? “Oh, I didn’t realize someone else was joining us for lunch.”

  “She just showed up, and Uncle Graeme sent me for a walk to get me out of the way.”

  I looked back at the cottage. “I don’t want to interfere if it’s something serious. Maybe I should just head on back to Craighill and talk with your uncle tonight.”

  “But you’re leaving tomorrow.” The little lilt in his voice twisted my heart into knots.

  I knelt down in front of him, and Wedge took the move as an invitation to lick my face. I nudged the dog aside and placed my palms on Lachlan’s shoulders. “I promise you that I’ll be back, if for nothing else than to visit you and your granny.”

  “And Uncle Graeme.”

  I nodded. “And Uncle Graeme.” If Graeme wanted that too, because I sure did. “I still have more Scotland country to see.”

  “And you haven’t even eaten at Lochside Café or Shona’s Bakehouse. That’s a crime.”

  I nodded, happy to have distracted him from those watery eyes. “Or Fishnish.”

  “Och, aye. You haveta try Fishnish.”

  “See?” I squeezed his shoulders. “How can I stay away?”

  For being such a little boy, those eyes of his caught on to my meaning, because in a very unexpected turn of events, he reached over and hugged me.

  My whole body froze for a second. My heart nearly exploded.

  And that’s when I knew, whether Graeme and I sorted out a future or not, I had to come back to Mull.

  For Lachlan.

  And Mirren. And the crazy book club.

  But I really hoped for Graeme too.

  I stood up and walked back toward my bike. “Once your uncle finishes his conversation with his friend, would you let him know I’ll see him tonight?”

  “Aye.” Lachlan slipped his hand into mine as I walked, and I saved the feel to memory. Another sense of belonging washed over me, and I sent a thankful glance heavenward. “But she’s no friend. Not anymore.”

  “Oh.” I looked back over at the house. Who could it be?

  “And I’m glad they didnae marry.”

  My feet came to a stop. Marry? That was unexpected. “Marry?”

  “Aye, Allison and Graeme were set to marry a long time ago, before Mum died. I dinnae ken why she showed up now after being gone for so long.”

  Allison.

  My bottom jaw loosed.

  Allison Duncan. Practically perfect in every way Allison Duncan? Classy and gorgeous designer Allison Duncan?

  Graeme was engaged to her?

  The thought took a few seconds to congeal. I mean, opposites attract and all, but . . .

  “She wants to sort out things, whatever that means,” Lachlan continued as we came to a stop beside my bike. “But I think Uncle Graeme is too smart to go with her when he can keep someone like you.”

  I almost pulled the little boy into another hug. The idea of Graeme keeping me did have a nice ring to it.

  “If he kept me, you’d have to keep me too, you know.”

  “That’s all right with me.” He nodded his disheveled head of ginger hair. “I wager it would take the two of us to help keep you alive anyway.”

  My smile flared so wide I almost lost control of my laugh again. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  I leaned down one more time and gave Wedge a scratch behind the ear, then pulled Lachlan into another hug. “I’ll come back, Lachlan,” I whispered into his ear. “I promise.”

  He looked up at me, his smile so trusting.

  As soon as I got my next break. Right back across the ocean.

  I hopped on my bicycle and started back down the drive. Even if Graeme reunited with Allison, I could still come to see Lachlan. And Mirren. And even Calum.

  Because the truth was, Graeme and Allison could be reconciling right at this very minute. I swallowed through my tightening throat and gave my head a shake.

  Don’t be illogical, Katie.

  You are a sensible adult.

  Graeme is a good guy.

  This is not a Hallmark miscommunication scene.

  I looked back at the house.

  But this was real life. And it was always a risk.

  And sometimes the girl didn’t get the guy.

  Dave: You won again, Katie! You won the Vision Award for your category.

  I should bask in the excitement of it all. Of the recognition of my work. Of my princess moment. Of finally realizing that my heart could belong somewhere again!

  But the potential ship of Graeme and Allison—Graemison?—tempted to sink my wavering confidence. I pushed the thought away.

  You are more than a relationship with Graeme MacKerrow.

  Me: Oh wow, what an honor! I hadn’t seen the announcement yet because I’ve been so busy getting ready for the ball.

  Dave: Ball? Oh, right. The Regency thing.

  Me: Edwardian, Dave. It’s Edwardian. You’ve read all of my articles about it. You should know by now.

  Dave: They’re not the same? Well, anyway, I hope you’ve been really considering the editing position, Katie. You’re a natural. The other writers love how you’ve taken a special interest in helping them grow. I knew you were made for this.

  And I had enjoyed it. More than I thought I would. But enough to fully replace traveling to be with Graeme? He probably wasn’t even that serious about me, even if he wasn’t kissing Allison right now.

  I cringed at the visual, along with the feeling of a fist tightening around my heart.

  Dave: Well, enjoy your evening and plan to rest up on the plane tomorrow, because you won’t be taking a breath for a few days.

  Oh no. What did that mean?

  Me: Why did I just get a really bad feeling, Dave?

  Dave: I’ve rearranged your schedule a little and booked an 11:00 a.m. flight for you out of Edinburgh tomorrow morning.

  Eleven in the morning? It was easily over four hours to Edinburgh from Mull, and that’s if I caught the ferries at the right time.

  Me: Dave, that means I’d have to leave Mull by four o’clock in the morning to even attempt to catch my flight.

  Dave: It’s the only way you’ll make the awards ceremony in New York.

  I groaned. The Vision Award ceremony. This was crazy.

  Me: When will I sleep?

  Though I already knew the answer.

  Dave: Attend the ceremony tomorrow evening, fly to Kentucky for your next assignment, and then you have the next two weeks off.

  This shouldn’t sting so much, but it did. I was hoping for a few more hours in the morning with Graeme and maybe Lachlan. Leaving at noon from Mull provided much more of a farewell cushion than before dawn.

  Dave: You weren’t able to attend the ceremony last year.

  Me: I was in the rainforest without phone reception, Dave.

  Dave: Right, but you promised that if you won again, you’d accept in person. World on a Page gets great publicity from this. And it would be good for you too. You should be proud.

  He was right. I’d promised. And I was so proud of my writing and the stories and the people I got to celebrate.

  Me: I am proud.

  Dave: And if you take up editing (which you should), it will naturally reduce your travel time so you’re less likely to be up for another Vision Award. Sleep afterward.

  Me: I got it. Butt-crack of dawn it is!

  Dave: That’s my girl. I’ll email you all the travel details. Can’t wait for the final Scottish installment. It’s been some of your best work to date.

  I’d loved writing it. I wasn’t usually featured so prominently in my stories. My mishaps were more anecdotal to the stories I collected and retold along the way. But I’d loved living out the adventures during my time on Mull, even if there were a few moments I wasn’t sure I’d survive. A smile pulled at my lips. They were my near-death moments, part of my story here in Scotland. For a long time I’d skirted around being the focus of my own story. After all, I’d never really fit into my mom’s world or Sarah’s shadow, and social media gave me the unique vantage of redirecting the interest toward others.

  That had worked. Because who would want to hear about me?

  But maybe, when you start figuring out where you belong, you start falling in love with your own story too. Because . . . love does that. It changes everything.

  My phone blinked with a message.

  Dave: Your loyal fans want to know what happened with the #hotscot.

  I released a sigh and stared over at the ball gown waiting for me to tuck, fasten, and squeeze into.

  I wanted to know the same thing.

  Chapter 21

  Graeme

  I was in no state to attend a ball.

  In fact, I’d never thought of myself as the type to attend one in the first place.

  But after Allison’s visit, then the message relayed by Lachlan about Katie—and the added worry that whatever I said to Katie could possibly scare her away—I was left flummoxed. I couldn’t seem to get anything right.

  I almost forgot my kilt pin. Couldn’t find my sporran. And nearly walked out of the house without attaching my fly plaid. Thankfully, Mum had stopped in to take Lachlan for the night, so she caught my oversight and proceeded to attach the cloth to my shoulder. Someone would have thought I was getting married, I was so off my head.

  The conversation with Allison proved all the more how badly I needed to ensure Katie of her freedom—that I’d support her future. That I wasn’t trying to tie her down or squelch her dreams. The last thing I wanted to do was scare her away. I wanted to create tomorrows with her.

  I drew in a deep breath as I walked through the doors of Craighill. And I’d embrace whatever those tomorrows might look like.

  And then I entered the ballroom into a surprising host of people. Two dozen, at least. They had to be acquaintances of the Lennoxes, from the accents I heard as I walked through the room. I even noted a few reporters.

  I steered clear of them.

  As I studied the space, I had to admit I was chuffed at the look of the room. Seeing one’s ancestral home adorned and celebrated in such finery did any Scot’s heart good. Even if the adornment came in Edwardian fashion.

  It meant the place wasn’t sitting abandoned and forgotten. Someday, if God allowed, the MacKerrows would run their own business from these walls, celebrating the culture and history, hosting weddings, welcoming visitors.

 

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