“One of what?” Lena asked, stepping aside so we wouldn’t get in the way of the other festival-goers bustling along the high street, weaving between the vendor stalls.
“That shortbread!” Aisling said. “No, wait, that cookie.”
Lena laughed. “There are many cookies at that stall. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Chocolate chip! No, actually that caramel one.” Aisling jumped up and down. “No, Biscoff!” She clapped her hands to her head. “Ahh, I can’t decide.”
I turned my camera on her, preserving the moment. My camera had been busy for the past hour with various shots of the event, but there were more than a few of Aisling enjoying the day. I knew Weston would appreciate them later.
The Braeburn summer festival had officially kicked off this morning, and town was absolutely rammed. The festival was abig draw on a normal year, but the weather was gorgeous today, bringing out even more people. I had the sun on my shoulders and stalls filled with snacks all the way down the high street—I should have been buzzing.
Instead, only one thing plagued my thoughts.Where the hell was Locke?
“Isla, which one should I get?” Aisling asked, tugging on my arm.
I tucked my camera away for safety. “Well, there’s one up the back with a unicorn horn and sparkly sprinkles, so I know which oneI’dbe getting.”
Aisling’s eyes widened dramatically. “I didn’t see the unicorn one!”
Lena snorted. “NowthatI find hard to believe.” She handed Aisling a bunch of change, then came to stand with me while we supervised her cookie purchase.
“Her maths have improved a lot,” I whispered, watching Aisling count out two pounds and fifty pence.
“It’s all that Monopoly,” Lena whispered. “When she and Weston aren’t cheating each other out of properties, I think she’s actually getting the hang of her numbers.”
“She’ll be a cutthroat property developer in no time.”
“Speaking of,” Lena whispered. “Have you heard from Locke? I figured he’d be here already. Weston had a kilt all ready to go for him.”
“He was supposed to get in last night,” I said, trying to keep my frustration from showing.
“What happened?”
I shrugged. “Something came up with one of his property acquisitions, I guess. He said he needed to deal with it right away and couldn’t leave.”
Lena hummed, sympathetic. “Weston and I have had our fair share of those days where it feels like the universe is working against you. It can be hard.”
I bit down on the hollow laugh that shot up my throat. This felt like less of the universe’s problem and more of Locke’s. But I wasn’t about to say that out loud. Everything was fine. I was just hot and sweaty and pregnant anddisappointed. Did I want a sexy picture of Locke in a kilt? Sure. Did I want to watch him having a blast out on the green with Weston and Alistair? Of course. Was it the end of the world that he was going to miss the kilted dash? No. I knew he’d get here soon—he’d promised. It was just a shame he was missing so much.
I consoled myself with the thought that I’d just make him pose for me later, when we were alone. Then I could enjoy taking said kilt off of him again. That thought perked me right up as Aisling returned to us, cookie in hand.
“Can I have some of that?” she asked, pointing to another stall offering free samples.
“That would be gin,” Lena said, putting her hands on Aisling’s shoulders. She steered her down the street. “So that would be a big no. We’ll get you a juice when we see some. But let’s get to the green or we’re going to miss the kilted dash.”
I checked the time on my phone. It was, in fact, just about time for me to be at the green to capture the footrace. What would Jo’s post-festival newspaper piece be without a photo of twodozen kilt-wearing participants dashing one hundred yards for the title of “Fastest Kilt in the North”?
“I’m so excited!” Aisling cried, her face smeared with cookie crumbs as we approached the green. The starting line fluttered in the breeze. “I want to run too!”
“Maybe when you’re older,” Lena promised, keeping a hold of her to stop Aisling from being swept away by the visitors quickly crowding around the green.
There were so many festival-goers darting in front of me, but I’d staked out the best angles earlier in the day, so I knew how to position myself as the competitors entered the green to a round of applause.Click.Kilts everywhere.Click. Click.Someone had brought their bagpipes.Click.Aisling tugged on my arm.
“Look, Auntie Isla!”
I lowered my camera just as Weston appeared.
“There are my best girls!” he announced, walking over, clad in a tight black T-shirt and a kilt. Alistair was right behind him, wearing his own matching kilt, holding Kenna on his hip.
