I waited with bated breath.
His lips parted to speak.
Then Millie reached for his glasses, almost breaking the right temple as she curled her tight fist around it and yanked.
“No, wee yin.” Fyfe gently removed her grip. He shot me a smirk. “I know you like the glasses, but she can’t grab contacts off my face.”
Disappointment curled in my stomach, but I forced a smile as I looked down to pull a bottle of water out of the picnic basket. “Then wear your contacts.”
A slight tension invaded our picnic. I tried not to let my discontent spoil the day, but I found myself giving all my attention to Millie because I didn’t know how to deal with Fyfe’s inability to say those three little words.
In a normal relationship, I’d consider it completely understandable to wait several months before saying it.
But we’d known each other since I was ten years old. If he didn’t love me now, then he probably never would.
After the picnic,we got back into the Volvo to drive on a little farther. I could feel Fyfe watching me as I tidied everything away and loaded it back into the SUV, but I couldn’t look at him.
Today was supposed to be perfect. Maybe that was too much pressure to put on a day, but after the last few weeks, I’d needed perfection.
I’d had to answer a few more questions for the case against Peter Pryor. And when Jasper didn’t take down his videos in which he besmirched my name, I began legal action. It was only then he absolutely shit himself. Danny reckoned Jasper was lulled into thinking I would just take his abuse because he’dgotten away with it for months. Only when he realized I was serious did he backtrack. I agreed not to sue under the proviso he not only take down all content about me but he release a statement retracting his accusations.
He’d done it and hopefully that was the last I’d ever hear of my old friend.
It was heartbreaking to see our friendship turn to such bitterness. It was exhausting too.
I’d just needed one beautiful day with my boyfriend and his daughter, whom I loved.
I couldn’t help if wanting more from Fyfe than he could give soured it.
I really … I thought he might love me.
So why couldn’t he say it?
The landscape changed as we traveled farther north. The scenery grew a little marshier, more rusts and browns interrupting the summer greenery. We passed by a couple of lochs and tourists who had stopped to take photographs of the ruins of Ardveck Castle. The white clouds grew closer as we climbed upward. So close you almost felt like you could reach out and touch them. The road was dual carriageway again, but it began to hairpin more dramatically through the rugged, grass-covered rocky hills.
My breath caught as Loch Gleann Dubh (Gaelic for Black Glen Loch) came into sight on our right. At this elevation, there was a slight mist over the water, even during the summer. It was magical. Like it might even be a gateway to Faerie.
“Happy?” Fyfe asked me.
An ache of longing pierced me. “Of course.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, as if he didn’t believe me.
We were just approaching the famous Kylesku Bridge, a curved concrete bridge across the waters of Loch a’ Chàirn Bhàin(Gaelic for White Cairn Loch) when Fyfe pulled off into the car park before it. It was busy with tourist traffic.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking Millie for a wee look at the loch before we head home.”
Millie was eager to be out of the car seat. Fyfe hooked on her baby carrier, and we settled her into it so she was facing outward against his chest and could see the view. We trekked down as close to the water as we could and watched a boat travel under the bridge.
“Aunt Robyn took a drone shot over the bridge that takes my breath away every time I see it.” Robyn was a successful photographer, specializing in photos of the Highlands. She’d taken the Kylesku Bridge photo when she first met my uncle Lachlan. Uncle Lachlan and Robyn loved it so much, they’d blown up the photograph and it now hung in the entryway of their house. “I love that photograph. And I’ve offered to buy it so many times, but she said she can’t part with it for money.”
“Aye?” Fyfe smiled in thought. “I don’t think I’ve seen it.”
“It captures that feeling you get when you take time to stand on Ardnoch Beach when it’s empty. Or stand at the peak of a hill or on the banks of a loch. You know that feeling? Like … awe, but peace, too, because you realize we’re such a small part of something so beautiful. And for a second or two, you forget all the things you worry about on a daily basis. You remember how lucky you are to have this beauty at your fingertips. It isn’t scary to realize that it will last long after I’m gone. It’s comforting. It puts everything in perspective. Makes the overwhelming stuff feel almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things … and I just … I feel atpeace. Like everything will be okay.” I turned to Fyfe. “Does that make sense?”
He nodded, searching my face. “Absolutely.”
