Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
EILIDH
W hen Theo Cavendish decided he wanted to do something, he was like a snowball with GPS, rolling downhill but only picking up the people he needed before rolling on to pick up the next person.
Within two weeks, he had his usual team signed off and on board, and we were already pitching the show to several streaming platforms. Between that and dealing with the legal stuff regarding Jasper and Peter Pryor, it had been a full-on couple of weeks.
Fyfe had suggested we take a day off and give Millie her first road trip. As a child, there was nothing I loved more than day trips with my parents. I loved the drive, the scenery, the family time, and we usually stopped off somewhere great to eat. Millie was too young to appreciate that, but I was excited to spend the day with two of my favorite people.
We took Fyfe’s Volvo SUV because even though I’d fitted a car seat into my G-Wagon, Millie preferred the one in Fyfe’s. I had it on order for my vehicle because she fussed a lot whenever we tried to buckle her into the one I had now. The boot was full of supplies for Millie and a large picnic basket with sandwiches and snacks from Morag’s Deli and a treat or two from Callie’s Wee Cakery.
I eagerly strapped myself into the passenger seat and felt like a wee girl again going on a family trip.
Fyfe sensed my excitement as he got comfortable in the driver’s seat. He wore his black framed glasses today, along with a Kings of Leon T-shirt and jeans. He looked so sexy I could lick him. All over. “We ready?”
I resisted the urge to jump him and nodded. “Let’s hit the road, Jack.”
We’d decided to take a road trip through the county and just go with the flow, see where the day took us.
It was the perfect summer’s day. A few puffy white clouds in a startlingly blue sky above. Not too hot. Not too cold. I rolled down the window a fraction to let the breeze move through the car, and I talked to Millie, explaining the scenery as we passed. It was mostly so she heard my voice. Her car seat legally had to be rear-facing until she was fifteen months old, so we attached a mirror to the rear seat so we could see her expression.
I chatted to her about the vibrant, varying shades of greens in the grass and the trees, and how they contrasted beautifully against the water on our left. First, we drove past the Dornoch Firth, and then we followed the denim-blue water of the Kyle of Sutherland. Fyfe interjected to share that he and Lewis once jumped into the Kyle butt-naked on a dare from friends when they were sixteen.
I laughed, shaking my head at their nonsense. “Never tell my mother that story.” The Kyle of Sutherland was deep, the bottom was treacherous, and the current could be extremely strong. “What else did you two get up to that I don’t know about?”
Fyfe chuckled boyishly. “A few things.”
“Dada,” Millie grumbled from the back seat. “Dada!”
“Just a while longer, wee yin,” Fyfe assured her. “Then we’ll stop for some food.”
Once we’d crossed the River Shin, the roads changed to a single carriageway. It wasn’t a particularly busy road during the rest of the year, but there were more tourists around this part of the country in the summer. We got stuck behind a motorhome with a foreign number plate. They were clearly very nervous on the single carriageway, and Millie grew fussier by the second. I attempted to quiet her with more descriptions of our surroundings, but the words alone were not soothing her.
Between Fyfe having to drive at a ridiculously slow pace, the traffic building up behind us, and Millie’s ever-increasing volume of protest, I started singing.
I’d only ever sung to Millie when I was on my own. It was the one thing guaranteed to soothe her.
Her favorite was Taylor Swift, which pleased me to no end but did not bode well for my alternative rock–loving boyfriend.
Millie’s absolute favorite track was “Bigger Than the Whole Sky.” Of course she loved the melody and didn’t understand the melancholy lyrics. At least I hoped not.
Just as the motorhome pulled into a stopping place to allow us all to pass, Millie’s loud complaints slowly faded to silence. I sang a wee bit longer, just in case, and then let the lyrics trail off.
It was only then I sensed something emanating from Fyfe.
I glanced at him.
Awe saturated his expression, making my next question breathy with wonder. “What is it?”
“How the hell did I not know you can sing like that? You sing like an angel.”
Pleasure suffused me. “I guess you never heard me sing in the few musicals I did as a teen. Other than that, I haven’t had much cause to sing. But Millie likes it. She’s a bit of a Taylor Swift fan, just so you know.”
“That was Taylor Swift?”
“Yup.”
“It was beautiful,” Fyfe opined gruffly. “You’re beautiful.”
I reached over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his beard scratching deliciously on my chin before I pulled back. “ You’re beautiful.”
He gave a sexy huff of laughter like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
Not long later, Fyfe indicated left and took a very short track down toward the River Oykel. A footpath through grass-covered dunes led to a small patch of golden sand on the riverbank. It was perfect for a picnic.
Fyfe gathered Millie and the blanket while I grabbed the basket, and we made the very short trek to the riverside. It was a calm, slow flow of sparkling blue water. The hills slowed upward on the other side in patches of forests and spring greens, moss, amber, and copper. It was beautifully secluded, and the landscape created a natural windbreak against the gentle breeze.
Millie giggled as Fyfe held her and I slathered sun protection all over her perfect skin. She wriggled and wrinkled her nose, bearing her four front teeth. “I love you so much I could burst with it.” I covered her cheeks in kisses, making her giggle harder. My eyes flew to Fyfe and he gazed at me like …
Well … like he loved me.
My heart beat a wee bit faster as I filed his expression away and made sure Millie’s cheeks were protected. Fyfe straightened her little hat, keeping her on his lap. I insisted on smoothing sun cream on the back of his neck and arms, and he watched me in that same way as before. With a possessive tenderness that reflected what I felt for him.
Was he ever going to tell me he loved me?
I shoved that worry aside, not wanting it to ruin our day. After we were all sun protected, I set out the picnic on our blanket. Fyfe fed Millie first and then we hungrily started on our food. We gave little bits that Millie could eat to quell her growing agitation at being left out food-wise. She always wanted to eat whatever we were eating.
“This girl is going to love her food, I think,” I informed Fyfe.
“Maybe she’ll learn to cook and help her auld da out.”
“You’re a pretty good cook.” We’d taken turns with our evening meals and while neither of us were spectacular cooks, we did okay.
“Ae!” Millie reached for the chocolate hazelnut pastry thing Callie had suggested from today’s bakery menu. It was bloody heaven in pastry casing. “Ae!”
Happiness overwhelmed me every time Millie used her version of my name. “This one is mine, Mills. You’ll get to try this scrumptiousness when you’re a wee bit older.”
“In moderation,” Fyfe added as he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. He watched me laugh, his eyes twinkling with amusement. When he swallowed, he warned, “If we don’t stop eating at Callie’s, I’m going to put on weight.”
“Put on weight. As long as you’re happy, who cares?” I shrugged.
“Seriously?” He raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t work out, you wouldn’t care?”
I scowled at him.
Then … fuck it.
“I loved you when you were a skinny wee Clark Kent and I love you as the built Superman I see before me. I’ll love you if you put on weight, lose your hair, go blind and/or deaf, can’t walk, can’t speak, and need help to dress in the morning. Whatever the future brings, I love you , not the fancy wrapping.”
“Ae!” Millie clapped with a grin, as if she agreed with me.
Fyfe barely noticed. He was gazing at me as if I’d just hung the moon.
I waited with bated breath.
His lips parted to speak.
Then Millie reached for his glasses, almost breaking the right temple as she curled her tight fist around it and yanked.
“No, wee yin.” Fyfe gently removed her grip. He shot me a smirk. “I know you like the glasses, but she can’t grab contacts off my face.”
Disappointment curled in my stomach, but I forced a smile as I looked down to pull a bottle of water out of the picnic basket. “Then wear your contacts.”
A slight tension invaded our picnic. I tried not to let my discontent spoil the day, but I found myself giving all my attention to Millie because I didn’t know how to deal with Fyfe’s inability to say those three little words.
In a normal relationship, I’d consider it completely understandable to wait several months before saying it.
But we’d known each other since I was ten years old. If he didn’t love me now, then he probably never would.
After the picnic, we got back into the Volvo to drive on a little farther. I could feel Fyfe watching me as I tidied everything away and loaded it back into the SUV, but I couldn’t look at him.
Today was supposed to be perfect. Maybe that was too much pressure to put on a day, but after the last few weeks, I’d needed perfection.
I’d had to answer a few more questions for the case against Peter Pryor. And when Jasper didn’t take down his videos in which he besmirched my name, I began legal action. It was only then he absolutely shit himself. Danny reckoned Jasper was lulled into thinking I would just take his abuse because he’d gotten away with it for months. Only when he realized I was serious did he backtrack. I agreed not to sue under the proviso he not only take down all content about me but he release a statement retracting his accusations.
He’d done it and hopefully that was the last I’d ever hear of my old friend.
It was heartbreaking to see our friendship turn to such bitterness. It was exhausting too.
I’d just needed one beautiful day with my boyfriend and his daughter, whom I loved.
I couldn’t help if wanting more from Fyfe than he could give soured it.
I really … I thought he might love me.
So why couldn’t he say it?
The landscape changed as we traveled farther north. The scenery grew a little marshier, more rusts and browns interrupting the summer greenery. We passed by a couple of lochs and tourists who had stopped to take photographs of the ruins of Ardveck Castle. The white clouds grew closer as we climbed upward. So close you almost felt like you could reach out and touch them. The road was dual carriageway again, but it began to hairpin more dramatically through the rugged, grass-covered rocky hills.
My breath caught as Loch Gleann Dubh (Gaelic for Black Glen Loch) came into sight on our right. At this elevation, there was a slight mist over the water, even during the summer. It was magical. Like it might even be a gateway to Faerie.
“Happy?” Fyfe asked me.
An ache of longing pierced me. “Of course.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, as if he didn’t believe me.
We were just approaching the famous Kylesku Bridge, a curved concrete bridge across the waters of Loch a’ Chàirn Bhàin (Gaelic for White Cairn Loch) when Fyfe pulled off into the car park before it. It was busy with tourist traffic.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking Millie for a wee look at the loch before we head home.”
Millie was eager to be out of the car seat. Fyfe hooked on her baby carrier, and we settled her into it so she was facing outward against his chest and could see the view. We trekked down as close to the water as we could and watched a boat travel under the bridge.
“Aunt Robyn took a drone shot over the bridge that takes my breath away every time I see it.” Robyn was a successful photographer, specializing in photos of the Highlands. She’d taken the Kylesku Bridge photo when she first met my uncle Lachlan. Uncle Lachlan and Robyn loved it so much, they’d blown up the photograph and it now hung in the entryway of their house. “I love that photograph. And I’ve offered to buy it so many times, but she said she can’t part with it for money.”
“Aye?” Fyfe smiled in thought. “I don’t think I’ve seen it.”
“It captures that feeling you get when you take time to stand on Ardnoch Beach when it’s empty. Or stand at the peak of a hill or on the banks of a loch. You know that feeling? Like … awe, but peace, too, because you realize we’re such a small part of something so beautiful. And for a second or two, you forget all the things you worry about on a daily basis. You remember how lucky you are to have this beauty at your fingertips. It isn’t scary to realize that it will last long after I’m gone. It’s comforting. It puts everything in perspective. Makes the overwhelming stuff feel almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things … and I just … I feel at peace . Like everything will be okay.” I turned to Fyfe. “Does that make sense?”
He nodded, searching my face. “Absolutely.”
I shrugged, turning back to the view. “That’s what Aunt Robyn’s photo captures. Every time I look at it, I feel like I’m on the banks of a loch with no one else around. Utterly at peace because everything will turn out all right in the end.”
After a while the tourists who’d accompanied us disappeared and we were on our own. I’d grown up in the Highlands and places like this still took my breath away. We were guardians of such a beautiful planet.
Yet that peace I’d spoken about evaded me. I was hyperaware of the man and child beside me. Fyfe’s inability to say he loved me didn’t seem like one of those insignificant things I’d spoken of. Realizing I wouldn’t find my peace here , I wanted to leave.
“I think we should head back.” I started climbing up the slight incline toward the car park.
“Eilidh Adair!” Fyfe called.
I spun around to shush him because some people might recognize my name.
He grinned, looking so handsome with his adorable baby daughter strapped to his chest that my lips clamped shut against the admonishment.
“Just thought you should know … I’m pretty much as in love with you as a person can get.”
Joy flushed through me so quickly, I should be terrified by how much this man affected my mood. “Really?”
His expression turned serious. “Now get your arse back here so I can kiss you.”
“Bossy,” I grumbled but hopped down beside them. “Say it again.”
And there it was. That look I’d witnessed earlier. Tenderness and awe and possessiveness. “I love you so fucking much, Eilidh Adair.”
I bit my lip to suppress a cheesy grin, and Fyfe reached out to pull me closer. Millie kicked me in the chest as she beamed at my sudden proximity. “You shouldn’t swear in front of Mills.”
“I’ll stop when she’s older,” he promised. “Now fucking kiss me and tell me you love me.”
My laughter was swallowed in his kiss as he maneuvered around Millie to take my mouth. It was short but beautiful and when he released me, I told him what he already knew. “I love you too.” My gaze dropped to Millie. “I love you both.”
I kissed Millie’s cheek and then reached up to kiss Fyfe again.
His voice was gruff as he announced, “Move in with us.”
“What?”
“We’re already living together. You know we’re meant to be a family, so why wait?”
I didn’t think it was possible to get any happier than when he’d told me he loved me, but there I was. So giddy, my cheeks hurt from smiling. “Okay.”
Fyfe’s return smile was so big, it made my heart swell. “Aye?”
“Aye. But I’m buying rugs and throws and cushions and putting up—” He cut me off with another kiss. Millie broke our connection by slapping us as she let out a high-pitched squeal. Laughing, we pulled apart.
“You can do what you want to the house,” Fyfe assured me. “It’s yours now too.”
The bliss was just a wee bit too much and tears blurred my vision.
Fyfe was used to the fact that I’d become a crier. Whether happy, sad, frustrated, or stressed, I was now a big old crier and I couldn’t care less. Neither could he. He just pressed a tender kiss to my forehead and laced our fingers together. “Let’s go home. Ready to go home, wee yin?” he asked Millie as we climbed up the incline.
“Dada Ae!” she squealed.
And there went my heart, bursting all over the place.