“Are we having a fancy salad?”
He waves a large loaf of ciabatta bread that he pulls from the paper bag. “We’re having fancy sandwiches.”
His sarcasm causes me to giggle.
“If you can’t cook, we could’ve just ordered something,” I tease.
“Ach, I ken how to cook, but I dinna ken if ye were still a picky eater. Besides, everyone loves sandwiches.”
I roll my eyes. “I haven’t been a picky eater since we were kids!” I huff.
But he crosses his arms. “Ye took the tomatoes off the pasta last time.”
I grumble to myself about nosey busybodies. Gran walks in on Torin’s elbow. Her eyes are brightened by the sage green pantsuit she’s wearing, the gold buttons gleaming from the kitchen lights.
Torin’s tanned skin glows, complemented by his dark greensweater and khaki trousers. They’re both dressed rather nicely and almost match, in a way. Lachlan and I look to have coordinated on purpose with our black ensembles.
Torin brings a bouquet of wildflowers out from behind his back, where he had hidden them, and extends them to me.
“These are for ye.”
The bouquet is a dainty mix of creamy white primrose and rich purple violets. Taking the flowers in both hands, I bring them up to my nose and inhale their delicate fragrance.
“Oh, these are lovely; thank you so much.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears as I track down a vase to place them in.
Memories of my parents flood my mind. My dad would often pick wildflowers, and my mom would weave them into a flower crown for me.
Lachlan breaks through my sadness, though, with a jab at his dad. “Way to upstage me, old man.”
“Dearie, the boys put together a bit of a surprise.” Gran gestures to the two men. “Torin, would you like to show us?”
Gran’s mischievous smile thoroughly strokes my curiosity, and I follow them. When we walk out onto the terrace, my eyes widen.
Oh Gods.
Thousands of twinkly lights are wrapped around the trees near the house and stretched to the roof. The entire terrace is illuminated with thousands of tiny lights, like walking through the stars.
“How?” I ask, spinning around to absorb the display of the magical lights against the darkening sky.
“Apparently, we took our time getting ready, and Lach’s crew managed to throw it together while we were distracted,” she answers, standing beside me.
The back door creaks open, and Lachlan comes swaggering our way, holding four glasses of white wine in his hands.
“This is incredible.” I smile broadly at him as he hands off glasses to Gran and Torin before facing me.
“I ken ye had a hard week, so I wanted it to be special.” He shrugs and hands me a glass of wine, clinking the top of his glass to mine.
“If ye two would ha’ a seat. We’ll be right back with your meal,” he says to Torin and Gran, nodding to the outdoor table and chairs, which have been moved directly under the crisscrossing lights.
“Key, can ye give me a hand?”
Butterflies swarm in my stomach, but I follow him inside.
“What did you need help with?” I perch myself on the stool in front of the island.
“Nothing, I just wanted your company,” he answers while laying lemons on the cutting board. I cough into my wine glass, the sip I was taking stuck in my throat. “What’s your favorite memory from this place?”
