He makes a sound of agreement.“It’s something that’s always happened, but I suspect the fact the show and the books are so...spicy...”He side-eyes me, a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.“Did I use that correctly?”
I nod, unable to contain a giggle.
“Right, so the fact they’re so spicy has emboldened people and made them forget all sense.They want the fantasy of their own Jamie Fraser, and I swear it’s made some of them unhinged.”
I laugh again, harder this time.“‘Unhinged’ sounds about right.You don’t have to worry about that with us, at least.Drew already has her hot Scot, and I...”Shit.My mouth ran away with me there.Where was I even going with that?The way Graeme searches my face, eyebrows raised, makes me think he’s wondering the same thing.
How do I finish that sentence?I had my chance and ruined it?I let someone who’s more incredible than any fictional character slip through my fingers?I open and close my mouth a few times, but no words come.
Graeme is still eyeing me curiously, even as he lets out a barely audible sigh.“You realize it’s all fiction, and you’re here for the real Scottish experience?”
“Yes, exactly that.”Relief makes the words spill out in a rush.“And part of the real Scottish experience is going inside this castle and learning about its non-Outlander-related history.”
Graeme gives a half bow and sweeps his arm toward the entrance.“Lead on then, Sassenach.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN ~ GRAEME ~ FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
I’m lounging on thecouch in my parents’ flat, a place I’ve known my entire life.I didn’t grow up in Edinburgh, but MacKinlay Tower has been owned by my family for over a hundred years, and we stayed here whenever we visited Edinburgh throughout my childhood and teen years.And yet, despite the familiar setting, I feel like I’ve entered an alternate reality.
Across the room, Abby and Drew are sitting on either side of my mum at the large table near the row of windows that overlook the Royal Mile.The girls were helping Mum prepare lunch, but the kitchen wasn’t big enough for the three of them, so Dad offered to take over while Mum showed them my granny’s cookbook.
Seeing three of my favourite women crowded together at the table makes my chest tighten with a sensation I can’t quite pinpoint.It’s affection and joy, but a strange sense of longing too.The girls are leaning into Mum and giggling as she flips through the book and points things out.I’ve seen Granny’s cookbook enough times to know their amusement is likely caused by the doodles, notes, and anecdotes in the margins.
The thing is, Mum doesn’t show that book to just anyone.The year before I moved to Canada, I was dating a girl called Orla, and my parents insisted I bring her home for dinner one night.They were friendly, but it was one of the rare occasions when my warm and loving mother had her walls up from the get-go.I wondered if I was imagining it until Orla showed interest in Granny’s cookbook, which Mum was referring to for something, and Mum shooed her out of the kitchen.
Thankfully, Orla took it in stride and said her mum was the same way when anyone encroached on ‘her domain’.After she left that night, Mum told me Orla was ‘a perfectly nice lass’ but she didn’t think she was the right fit for me.I’d argued that we were perfect for each other, and accused her of being one of those mothers who thinks no one would ever be good enough for her son.Dad had stepped in and told me to watch my tone, but seventeen-year-old me thought he knew everything, and I said I’d think twice before ever bringing a girl home again.
I’d apologized first thing the next day.Even at that age, I knew how lucky I was to have such wonderful, loving parents.If the worst thing they ever did was want the best for me, I was being an ungrateful bawbag who needed to pull his head out of his arse.Over the next few weeks, I realized Mum was right—Orla really was a perfectly nice lass, but we weren’t right for each other—and shortly after that, we ended things on good terms.
The sound of Drew’s distinctive laugh pulls me from thoughts of the past.I watch her and Mum exchange a fond look.I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I think it’s safe to say Drew will someday be my sister-in-law and my parents’ daughter-in-law.Likely not soon, considering she and Brodie are about to embark on what they refer to as ‘real life’, and they’re aware living together for the first time will test their relationship.With the exception of my parents, I’ve never seen a couple who’s more right for each other, so I’m sure they’ll not only survive, but also thrive.
In another life—the one I rarely allow myself to imagine because it’s pure, fruitless fantasy—my mum would be sitting with hertwofuture daughters-in-law.It’s obvious Mum adores both girls, and the feeling is mutual.Abby told me the other day that she’d been up late a few nights with jet lag, and Mum had stayed up with her, drinking whisky-laced tea and talking until Abby was sleepy.She didn’t go into detail about their conversations, but there’s an easy affection and camaraderie between them that tells me they went deeper than surface topics.
Mum closes the cookbook, and the three of them rise from the table.She loops her arm around Abby’s shoulders, pulling her close and kissing her temple.Something passes over Abby’s expression; I recognize it immediately as the look she gets when she’s overwhelmed with Big Feelings.I expect that as much as she enjoys the attention and affection from my mum, it stirs up complicated emotions about her past.
The way she ducks her head and hunches her shoulders slightly makes me want to wrap her in my arms and tell her how safe and loved she is.That fierce protectiveness is an instinct I never experienced until Abby came along.It’s like some primal part of my brain came online and flooded me with the desire to protect her and make things right for her, even though I’m fully aware she’s strong and resilient, and doesn’t need rescuing.
