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“No,” Cat interrupts firmly. She slips her arm around my waist, and even with all these eyes on me, I can’t help but relax a little at her touch. “Look, Ally, you’ve got your partner here, Emily. And Lewis has Iona. And Jamie has Maisie. Aidan has Grace, and Elspeth has Bryce. So it’s only right that I’ve got my boyfriend, Robbie.”

Boyfriend? I nearly choke. When the hell did that happen?

Iona actually does choke, sputtering into her wine glass. “Your what?”

“Boyfriend,” Cat repeats sweetly but firmly, squeezing my waist as if daring me to contradict her.

I don’t. Partly because I’m too stunned, and partly because . . . well, she does mean more to me than just someone I’ve been sleeping with. She’s had my back through all this shit. She’s been growing on me, creeping into places in my head I thought were locked up tight.

“When I bumped into you two the other day,” Ally says, “you assured me, Cat, that Robbie hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you.”

“And he hadn’t,” Cat says smoothly. “At that point. But things change, Ally. Get with the times.” She turns to Maisie, who’s next to an empty seat—Cat’s spot, apparently. “Mind budging up a bit so I can squeeze in an extra chair and Robbie and I can sit together? Elspeth, is there enough food for Robbie too?”

Elspeth, clearly relieved to have something practical to focus on, brightens. “Of course! You know me, I always make enough for seconds. Let me go serve you both a plate. Lewis, could you grab some cutlery for Robbie, please? And pour him a glass of wine while you’re at it.”

Lewis just shrugs, gives me a sort of “well, here we are” smile—more resigned than hostile—and heads off to fetch cutlery. Maisie shuffles over to make room, and before I can come up with a convincing excuse, Cat is herding me into a seat at the table.

“So, Robbie,” Maisie says, leaning in with a gleam in her eye that reminds me of Cat, “how long have you and Cat been official?”

Christ. If I had to choose between another police interrogation and this, I’d take my chances with the police.

“Er . . .” I glance at Cat, who’s watching me with a little too much amusement. “It’s . . . recent.”

“Very recent,” Cat adds. “But we’re happy. Aren’t we, Robbie?”

I do my best not to look like a man cornered by wild animals. “Aye.”

Iona, sitting across from us, flashes a sympathetic smile. “Don’t mind us. We’re just surprised. Cat mentioned she was interested in you, but we didn’t realise things had progressed quite so fast.”

“You told your friends you were interested in me?” I ask Cat, raising an eyebrow.

She has the grace to blush slightly. “Maybe.”

“She called it Project Bang a Bad Boy,” Maisie whispers.

“Maisie!” Cat hisses, her cheeks now flaming red. She glances around to make sure no one else at the table overheard, but they’re holding their own conversations, thankfully.

A chuckle escapes me despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Project Bang a Bad Boy, eh?”

Cat looks mortified. “That was before I got to know you. It sounds terrible now.”

“It does,” I agree, but I can’t help smiling at her discomfort. Serves her right for ambushing me with this dinner.

Elspeth returns with two plates of beef stew with mountains of mashed potatoes and veg. The smell alone just about undoes me. She sets them down with a warm smile. “Eat up while it’s hot!”

I mumble my thanks and wonder again why the hell Cat brought me here. I’d rather be back on that bloody horse than sitting at this table with every McIntyre and Stewart staring at me like I’m a bomb about to go off. But then I remember how I felt earlier, alone in my cottage, the weight of everything crushing down on me. Maybe Cat knows exactly what she’s doing. Maybe some company is what I need, even if it’s awkward as hell.

I take my first taste, and God, it’s delicious. Suddenly realising how hungry I am, I gobble up some more.

After a few hearty mouthfuls, I glance around the table. The strained silence that fell when Cat and I arrived is long gone. These people are finishing each other’s sentences and sharing inside jokes. Elbows bump, everyone comfortable in one another’s space. It’s a language I’ve never learnt to speak. After Maw left, dinners between me, Da, and Johnny . . . well, they weren’t like this. Not even close.

Cat gives my thigh a light squeeze under the table and shoots me a reassuring smile. I return it. Even if I’m still not too sure about being here at a McIntyre and Stewart family dinner, I can’t deny that the food is good.

“You know, Robbie,” Elspeth says from further down the table, “it’s long past time we had you over for a meal. We’ve never said an official thank you for what you did all those years ago, saving Jamie’s life.”

The chatter hushes again—not tense this time, but thoughtful.

I clear my throat, uncomfortable with everyone turning their attention back to me. “I just did what anyone would have done.”