Miles pulls me a little closer to him. Tears are forming in thecorner of my eyes, and as if on cue, it almost seems like another trick of movie magic, a light snow starts to fall.
“The heart and the love that you all embraced during this shoot…” Natalie takes a deep breath and places a hand on her chest. “Well, it’s changed me on a molecular level. I started this project thinking I could control every detail, control all of you, just like I do when mapping out my storyboards. It’s worked for me in the past, set up rules, run a tight ship.” She waves a hand. “Now I can see control is not the path to great art. Collaboration is.”
There is a ripple of nods, and a wave of applause erupts at this.
Natalie holds up her glass. “The end is just the beginning. Slàintemhath.”
We all echo her words. “Slàintemhath.”
Dad says, “Party back at the castle.”
The crew whoops.
I lay my head on Miles’s shoulder.
He kisses my cheek. “I’m just going to grab my stuff and throw on some sweats before they dismantle the costume tent. Then we can head to the party?”
Miles weaves his way through people, hugging and shaking hands, and I turn to stare out at the loch, perfectly still once more. The snow is so light, it’s hardly causing a tremble on the glassy surface. But then there is one—way off in the distance. A large black mass rises to the surface and ducks under just as quickly, like a shadow just went for a quick dip. I go to yell out, but my breath is stuck, like it rose, hit the air, and froze in my throat.
Miles joins me. I can sense it’s him by his scent, his presence that displaces the air, changing it in an indescribable way, but I can’t tear my eyes off the water.
He puts his hand on the small of my back. “Ready to go?”
I smile, but my eyes are still fixed.
Miles peers into my face. “Everything okay?”
I shake myself and look deep into Miles’s rich brown eyes. “Everything is perfect.”
SKYE. LATE JUNE, AROUND A YEAR AND A HALF LATER
New York feels completely different this time. It still has the undeniable energy, like the ocean at high tide, but instead of threatening to pull me under, it feels like it’s pushing me forward, like I’m riding the wave. The pink skirt of my sundress billows around my knees, roused by my momentum.
I’m off to The Ripped Bodice in Brooklyn, the first stop on my book tour.
My book tour.I love hearing that term.
It’s about a month long, with seven stops on the East Coast and then five on the West. It’ll wrap up near the end of July, just in time for Dad and Thora’s wedding back at the castle. They both keep saying they’re going to keep it simple, but knowing the two of them, it’ll be grand, with more flowers than a garden store.
I check my phone. Miles is supposed to meet me at the bookstore.
We’ve been splitting our time between Scotland and LA, but the past month or so, I tucked myself away at our little slice of heaven on the Isle of Skye, working on my latest book. It’s not due to my publisher for a good six months, but I was so excited about it that I couldn’t wait to pick up where I left off. After finishing my romance,I sent it to Elsie’s agent friend and signed with her a few weeks later. When she sold this book, I really did get a two-book deal.
My first, the romance about Miles and me, just came out last Tuesday, and so far, the response has been exciting. Lots of people have given it five stars on Goodreads, and I’m getting tagged left and right in reels on IG and TikTok. Miles bought the rights to the film, even before it was published, which I think may have sped up the process. He asked if I wanted to write the screenplay, but I wanted to focus on my next book.And I’m still tinkering with the story inspired by my mother.
After my last delicious sip of my iced coffee, I throw it in a nearby trash can and take a deep breath. I can do this. I can read from my book in front of a handful of people. Easy peasy.
The Ripped Bodice is impossible to miss. Both the awning and the building itself under the storefront window are bright pink, almost the exact pink of my dress. The bells chime as I swing the glass door open to a packed house. Far more crowded than I’ve ever seen a bookstore at four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. I almost turn right around and leave before the door can close, noticing as I doHAPPILY EVER AFTERand a smattering ofHEA’s are hand-painted above the door.
One of the owners comes over, the excitement in her cheeks grounding me. “We’re so thrilled you’re here! Can I get you anything? Water, juice, coffee?”
I nod. “Water would be great, thanks.”
“We’re just going to be right up there.” She points to two velvet rose-colored chairs in the back of the store, sitting in front of a gorgeous display with three large arched window frames, book pages hanging where the glass would go. I make my way through the crowd, looking for Miles. Each face I peer into is friendly but unfamiliar, until I get to one I know.
“Minnie!”
“Skye!” Minnie throws her thin arms around me. “This is amazing! Look at all these people here for you!”
