“She’s not wearing trousers,” he muttered, still scandalized, and God, he sounded just like Cal, just older.
This time I did laugh. Dougal released me as soon as we crossed the threshold.
Malina rolled her eyes. Cal followed us in and shut the heavy wooden door behind us. Warmth immediately hugged my cold body, and I sighed in relief. I bent to unzip my boots, and he kicked his shoes off… right in the middle of the entry.
Malina scowled down at the floor and clucked her tongue. “Christ, Callum James, would it kill ye to act like a grown man in yer own mother’s house? Shoes in the bloodymiddleof the floor like yer five years old again?”
Cal went wide-eyed like he’d just been hit by a ghost of Christmas past, cheeks flushing red as he scrambled to move them.
“I—sorry, I was?—”
“Oh, heknowsbetter,” she huffed, turning to me with an exasperated grin. “Used to leave muddy boots all over the cottage, swear tae God, I nearly chucked him in the burn one winter.”
I snorted, nudging his foot with mine. “Wow. And here I thought you were the tidy one.”
He muttered something under his breath and shoved his boots to the side, aiming a betrayed glare at me. “I was trying to warm you up,Mrs. Fraser.Not get publicly executed by my mother.”
I just grinned, smug as hell, and reached for his hand again. “Guess I better start preparing for a lifetime of being your maid.”
Dougal stood behind Malina, tall and stoic, eyes sharp but kind. He gave Cal a nod, then looked at me. “You’re smallerthan I thought,” he grunted, but there was warmth in it. “Didn’t expect that. Not with the way you drive.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Cal teased, stepping up beside me, fingers brushing the small of my back. “She’s larger than life behind the wheel.”
Malina gave a scandalized laugh, grabbing my wrist to pull me further inside. “She’s perfect. Come on, both of you. Dinner’s ready. And I want to heareverything.”
The cottage was old—beautifully so. You could feel the weight of history in the floors, the walls, the beams above. A place that had endured love and loss, silence and song, like it had absorbed every emotion it ever sheltered.
And somehow, I didn’t feel like a guest. I felt…expected. Loved.Welcomed.
Cal didn’t take his eyes off me once, even as his mum gushed over my tartan Christmas dress and stockings, even as his father stubbornly mentioned wearing trousers again, and even as we stepped into the dining room and I caught the gleam of something unspoken in his expression.
Like he still couldn’t believe I’d chosen him. Like I was the gift. It was awe and pride and gratitude. It waseverything.
Dinner felt warm. Not just because of the cozy glow of the fire crackling in the corner, or the rich scent of roast and root vegetables that my mother-in-law had prepared with practiced ease, or the way the wine had settled into my bloodstream, making everything feel a little softer, a little slower.
It wasthem.
The Fraser family—the one I was now a part of.
The way they spoke to each other, the way they listened, the quiet, unwavering love woven into every glance, every shared laugh, every story that spilled across the table. Malina’s dramatic commentary, Dougal’s gruff mutterings, Cal’s occasional eye-roll—they were crazy, but they were safe.
There was no competition. No one trying to one-up anyone. No one trying to dim anyone else’s shine.
Just a family that had loved so much over the years that it tore them apart and brought them right back together.
And sure, the Fraser name had been etched into motorsport royalty, painted with legacy in one of the most elite, cutthroat sports in the world. And yet… it meant more sitting around this table. With mismatched placemats and a pot of tea steeping in the corner.
I tightened my grip on Cal’s hand beneath the table, and to my delight, he squeezed back.
There was a quiet devotion in the way he rubbed his thumb over the tattoo on top of my wrist. The way he never let go of me. Not even now—especiallynow.
And God, I loved him.
I loved him so much it hurt.
“So you knew you wanted to race since you were, what, two?” I teased, nudging his foot under the table.
Cal smirked. “Probably earlier.”
