Miles points to the moon. “Oh, look. It’s a banana moon.”
“A banana moon?” I laugh. The moon is a perfect pointy crescent. “That, sir, is called a Cheshire Cat moon.”
“Ah, of course. The writer whips out the literary references.”
I sit up, letting my sweater fall off my shoulder. “And of course the man makes the phallic reference.”
Miles smiles and tiptoes his finger on my thigh. “Oooh, I like where your head is at.”
I let his fingers roam, but point again to the moon. “Look at it. Can’t you just imagine the furry kitty body around it, and then it disappears, and his smile is all that’s left?”
Miles nods. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
I nuzzle into his neck, kissing the edge of his jaw.
“Who knew quotingAlice in Wonderlandgot you so hot?”
I kiss my way down his body as he keeps talking.
“I love when she asks the rabbit,How long is forever?”
“Yes! I’ve heard that quote. What’s theanswer again?”
“Sometimes just one second.”
“It’s not in any of the books,” I say between kisses, working my way back up to his mouth.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Still very impressive.”
We kiss, and it’s like falling down the rabbit hole.
He stands and takes my hand, leading me to the bedroom this time.
It’sour last day on the Isle of Skye. We have to leave this afternoon, so technically, we don’t even get the full day. We spent all of Saturday in our cabin, our own little “Somewhere Only We Know” or our SOWK as Miles started calling it. He does it with a fake Boston accent, so it sounds like someone fromGood Will Huntingsaying “sock”. It makes me laugh every time.
We’ve only left for a small walk to explore the stretch of the loch near us. Miles looked the whole time for monsters or selkies. I still can’t believe I told him that about my mother. Not that it isn’t true—I have often wondered if my mother longed for her singing days the way a selkie longs for the sea, for her life before. I’m just surprised I told Miles. I hadn’t expected to share so much more than a warm bed with him. But we’ve talked nonstop—well, except when our mouths were otherwise occupied. I have to get that in check.Stop sharing every thought in my head with him.
This morning, we’re dragging ourselves out of bed before the sun, off to the fairy pools. Miles picked the music this morning, so “Annie Laurie” is playing softly over the stereo. He’s sipping coffee from his travel mug and staring out the window. The moonlight is highlighting his cheek like a soft kiss. I pry my gaze away, putting it back on the road. Truth be told, I could look at him for hours.
I park the car, and we get out. The sky is just starting to turn a pearly gray. Miles takes my hand in his, and we walk down the path.
“The pools aren’t very far.”
A slow, unconcerned smile spreads across Miles’s handsome face. “I’m up for anything.”
We walk on, watching the sky put on a light show just for us. Pinks and oranges outline the glowing clouds, the colors getting deeper the farther we walk. This weekend has been perfect. A stone lodges in my throat as the thought echoes in my head like someone yelling in a cave—we have to go back today.
Somehow, we have to figure out how to sneak into the castle and make it look like we weren’t even together. Rushing water buzzes in my ears, making my thoughts even louder. We’ll have to pretend we didn’t have this amazing time together. They’ll shoot their movie, I’ll write my words, and then Miles will leave.
It hits me like a swift slap to the face. Miles is still going to leave at the end of this. I was so wrong all those years ago. Our meeting won’t change anything about either of our worlds.
The fairy pools come into view, the water reflecting the brilliant colors of the sunrise.
“Wow,” Miles says as he squeezes my hand.
My skin is hot from his touch. I drop it. I need to feel something other than my overwhelming feelings for him and this rising panic that none of this is real.
