He starts to get up but I wave him back down. “Sit. You carried Finn all the way from the ferry. I’ve got this.”
A few minutes later I set his glass down then settle across from him with my steaming mug.
“What a day, eh?” he says, rolling the glass between his palms.
What a day indeed. The reunion with Torq, the parade of islanders who’d emerged from cottages and gardens to greet Lachlan. Finn being passed from hug to hug, wide-eyed but delighted by all the attention. The stories people had shared about Leanne, about Lachlan, about their years on that little island. The way Lachlan had gradually thawed as the afternoon wore on, his smiles coming easier, his laughter more genuine.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
He takes a sip of Scotch, considering. “Aye. Better than I thought I’d be. A lot better, in fact.” He pauses, staring into the amber liquid. “I should’ve done that a long time ago. Seeing the house... seeing them all again... It felt like breathing after holding it in too long.”
I take a sip of my tea—still a bit too hot, but soothing all the same. “Thanks for letting me come with you.”
“Thanks for being there.” His gaze finds mine across the table. “I’d never have done it without you.”
The weight of that admission settles between us. Part of me wants to ask what this means for us, what happens now that he’s faced his past. He did say we’d figure things out after Corraig,and here we are, home again after visiting the island. But it doesn’t feel like the moment to press. Not tonight.
So instead I say, “You still up for the festival tomorrow? I mean, you had a lot of people in your face today, and that’s not really your thing. Think you can handle round two?”
He doesn’t even blink. “Let’s do it.”
“Really?”
That half-smile I’ve grown so used to tugs at his mouth. “Aye. It’ll be fun.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
LACHLAN
The music carries to us on the breeze long before we reach the harbour: drums thundering in rhythm, pipes skirling over the top, bold enough to rattle windows. Finn’s practically bouncing out of his trainers beside me, and even Gus is feeding off the energy, tail going like mad as he trots at my side.
Blair tilts her head, grinning. “Is that—oh my God, itisbagpipes! This is officially the most Scottish thing I’ve ever heard. Do you think the pipers will be in kilts?” She shoots me a sideways look, mischief dancing in her eyes. “And when am I going to seeyouin one?”
I grunt. “Not likely, lass.”
“Shame.” Her gaze lingers on my navy button-down, then drifts down to my chinos. “Though I’ve got to say, you look good today too. Nice to see you in something smart other than your captain’s uniform.”
She’s right. At the weekend I generally just put on whatever I find first in the drawer. But today... aye, today I actually made the effort.
But forget me. That sundress—soft yellow catching the light like bottled sunshine, skimming her curves like it was made forher. Her hair is down and sleek, her long fringe framing her bonny face. She thinks I look good? She should see herself.
“Da! Quit staring at Blair, you’re slowing us down. I want to see the stalls!” Finn hops from foot to foot impatiently.
Christ. My own son, calling me out.
“Sorry, lad.” I give him an apologetic wink. “C’mon, we’re almost there.”
And then we are. The waterfront is packed with folk. Bunting stretches between lampposts, stalls line the street on both sides, and the air is thick with frying onions, sugar, and sea salt. Laughing kids dart through the crowd carrying candy floss bigger than their heads.
It’s busy, all right. Last year I stayed home. Couldn’t face it. But this year’s different. I’m different. Walking into the crowd with Blair at my side, my son buzzing with excitement, and Gus trotting along like he owns the place... it feels less like bracing myself, more like belonging.
“Oh my God, Lachlan, look at this place!” Blair’s eyes are wide, her voice full of wonder. She points out details I’d have walked right past—the hand-painted stall signs, the sweet smell of tablet, a juggler tossing bright clubs into the air. Seeing it all through her eyes... it’s not just noise and crowds. It’s something special, something worth showing off.
“Da! There’s Flora!” Finn pipes up, pointing to her behind a bake stall.
Sure enough, there she is, arranging cakes with her good hand while her other—still braced but now out of the sling—rests at her side. She looks up as we approach and breaks into a bright smile.
“Great to see you all out together!” she calls, and I catch the meaningful look she gives Blair and me. Blair’s cheeks go pink, but Flora just winks. “Don’t worry, dear. Half the town’s already guessed.”
