She gives me a slow smile but shakes her head before trotting upstairs.
I open a bottle of wine, bringing it over to the coffee table, along with two glasses and a loaf of crispy olive bread. As I light the wood stove, the sun sets out the window, golden streaks reflecting on the dark water.
There’s a funky old five-disc changer in the corner of the room. I fiddle with the nobs until it starts to play a Lily Allen album.
“What loch is this?” I ask.
Skye calls down from the loft. “Loch Bracadale.”
“Maybe we’ll spot a Nessie.”
She walks into the room in a black silk nightgown with lace trim tickling her pale calves, her turquoise cardigan falling off one shoulder, and her hair in soft waves around her face.
“Wow.”
She smiles and grabs one of the glasses of wine, tucking herself into the couch. “Nessie only lives in Loch Ness. Hence the name.”
I grab my glass and join her on the couch. “Right, but there must be other sightings in other lochs.”
She lays her legs on my lap, and I run my hand on her silky shins.
“Aye, there are. I’ve never heard of one here. This loch feeds out into the open ocean, so if we were to see any monster, it would probably be a selkie.”
“A selkie?”
She sips her wine, and I continue to run my hand over the soft skin of her leg. “Have you never seen…oh, what was that movie?” She taps a finger on the side of her glass. “Secret of Roan Inish.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Must have missed that one.”
“Well, a man fell in love with a creature from the sea. They were married for years and had children. She was a shapeshifter—a seal—but she could live as a woman if she liked. The woman loved her children with all her heart, but she still missed the sea. Her husband knew this, so he hid her seal skin. Most of the time, she was a loving wife and mother. But some days she would wail and beg him to let her return to her watery home.”
One day, her son found her seal skin and returned it to her. She slipped it on and disappeared into the water.”
“Did she ever come back?” I ask, looking out at the dark water for any odd ripples.
Skye shakes her head. “Sometimes, I felt like my mother was a selkie. Like her singer persona was the real her—her seal skin—and she was suffocating as a housewife.”
“But if that were true, she could’ve returned to the sea, so to speak, at any time.”
Skye shrugs.
“And you told me she was happy for the most part. What makes you think she was sad about giving up her music?”
“She seemed happy. Sometimes late at night, though, I would walk by the library, and she would be sitting alone, listening to her old records, just staring into the fire.”
“Did you ever talk to her about it?”
Skye shrugs. “I tried. Sort of. I wrote a blog post about it a long time ago when I had a blog. God, I must’ve been sixteen.” She cringes. “I had so many opinions. I think Mom may have read it, even.”
The song changes to “Somewhere Only We Know” and Skye changes the subject just as swiftly. She bolts off the couch and turns it up. “I love this song.”
I join her, part of me wishing we could’ve kept talking, sharing. But she looks so adorable standing there in her nightgown. I let it go and hold out my hand. “May I have this dance?”
She curtsies, holding out her nightgown with both hands, and then slips her fair hand in mine. I trained in ballroom dancing for a film, so I know what I’m doing, somewhat. I lead us in a sweepingfairytale–style waltz, the sky out the window darkening into a deep blue, stars just starting to prickle the horizon. And I know, without a doubt, I will replay this moment in my mind until the reel fades.
I lean down and kiss her. The music forgotten, our bodies still. She deepens the kiss, reaching up on tiptoe, bringing her hands to my neck. I move mine to her hips, the silky fabric slick under my touch. I reach her ass and squeeze, lifting her up. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I walk us toward the stairs.
“Too far,” she breathes out. Instead, I walk her right in front of the woodstove and lay her down on the soft carpet. The glow from the fire catches on all her curves. The sharp angle of her cheek, the swoop of her collarbone, the ample swell of her breast.
