Epilogue #2
I’m really proud of myself. I’m actually doing good.
“Okay, I gotta dash,” Lulu says, appearing at my side and rummaging through her bag. “I’ll email you later about the influencers I want on board.”
“I won’t see it,” I remind her, and she rolls her eyes.
“God, yes, I know, you’re going off-grid. I don’t know how you do nothing for three whole weeks. I’d die of boredom.” She glances past me to where Alec, Cameron, and Fraser are helping clear up the camera equipment. “Although I suppose you have plenty to keep you occupied,” she concedes.
“I do,” I admit.
She squeezes me in a quick hug. “I’m proud of you,” she says in my ear. “Enjoy your holiday, okay? I just need to quickly talk to the photographer about editing… Lachlan!” she yells.
The photographer grabs his bag and literally runs away from her. She stomps after him, while I go to join the three men.
“You finished, honey?” Fraser asks, stretching out his neck. “Bags are all packed, and we should be good to go.”
“Yes, I just need to say goodbye to—”
“BAAA!”
That’s all the warning I get before a woolly tank runs into my legs, and I’m knocked onto the ground. I burst out laughing as Crumpet stares down at me, her dopey face inches from mine. “Hi, baby.”
“How does she keep escaping?” Fraser hisses. “She’s literally massive.”
“She just wanted to say bye,” I insist, stroking Crumpet’s velvety cheek. “You have to stop jumping at people though, Crumpet. You’re huge now.”
Crumpet just shoves her head happily into my shoulder, nuzzling me. She lives out in the paddock with the other sheep these days, but she never quite got over the idea that she’s my pet. It’s not at all unusual for her to appear at the farmhouse or my studio and beg for attention.
Ed, one of the temporary farmhands, appears next to us. “Sorry,” he huffs, face red. “I don’t know how she did that. I looked away for half a second, and she just took off.”
“Keep a close eye on her,” Alec warns as I rub Crumpet’s fat belly, giving her one last kiss. “Cameron, take Summer to the car. Fraser and I need to lock up.”
Ed nods and leads Crumpet off, and Cameron helps me up, leading me towards the truck. He’s silent and walking stiffly, one hand jammed into the pocket of his jeans.
I lay my head on his arm. “Are you okay? Does your leg hurt?”
He shakes his head, opening the back door for me. His hand is still stuck in his pocket. It’s not really unusual for Cameron to be silent, so I brush it off and slide into the car, settling down for the four-hour drive.
We started the tradition of going on holiday to Skye during my first year at Lochview.
I was struggling to balance farm life with starting Too Much?
. After I had a meltdown in a pile of fabric samples, Cameron insisted we take a holiday.
Now we go to the Isle of Skye a couple of times a year.
We bought a cabin by the shore, and it’s become our own little hideaway.
Whenever we go, we unplug completely. No phones. No work. The next three weeks are going to be filled with swimming and eating and lots of sex, and I couldn’t be more excited.
The back door opens, and Fraser slides into the seat next to me, holding a massive plastic bag.
“I brought snacks,” he says cheerfully, slamming the door shut.
“Extra, since you’re eating for two.” He rummages around inside.
“Now, gorgeous. I know it’s only about four cells right now, but look deep inside and tell me…
Does the baby prefer chicken and mushroom or steak and ale pie? ”
“Has everyone just decided that I’m pregnant?” I ask. “Do I even need to take this test?”
“Oh, aye, pee on the stick and make it official,” he says breezily, pulling out a bottle of Irn-Bru. “Can pregnant women have this?” He checks the back. “Babby might come out orange.”
“Why are you all so sure? Are you using your shepherd Spidey senses too?”
“My what, lass?” Fraser asks as Cameron and Alec both buckle in.
“Alec was all, I can sense when ewes are in lamb.”
Fraser passes me both pies. “Oh, no. Your tits are bigger.” He pats my chest fondly. “Eat up, pretty girl. Got a long drive ahead.”
The drive up to the Isle of Skye always feels like a relief. I curl up in the back with Fraser, watching the foggy green hills blur as silver rain spatters the windows. Alec has the radio playing as he drives, and Cameron is hunched silently in the passenger seat.
“I reckon she’ll be a girl,” Fraser declares, playing with my fingers. Alec hums in agreement.
I have to laugh. “Seriously, guys. If I pee on this stick, and it comes back negative, I’ll feel like a real letdown.”
Fraser sits bolt upright. “No.” He sounds crestfallen. “I’m sorry, honey. If it stresses you out, we’ll stop talking about it.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t stress me out.” Even if I’m not pregnant, we’ll find a way to make a family.
“We always have options,” Alec agrees.
I snort. “Do they let people in four-ways adopt?”
“Aye,” Fraser says. “You’ll probably have to marry one of us, so the government doesn’t think we’re a bunch of perverts.” He pauses for a moment. “Bagsy.”
I notice Cameron stiffen in the passenger seat.
“You can’t bagsy my hand in marriage,” I inform Fraser.
“No?” He rips open a bag of Hula Hoops and slips one onto my finger. “What if I get you a really sparkly pink ring?”
“Shut. Up,” Cameron growls.
I shake my head, eating the Hula Hoop. “I’m not marrying one of you if I can’t marry all of you.” It’s a shame that we’ll never get to be properly married. It would be nice to be able to call the men my husbands.
“Fair enough. We should think of baby names,” Fraser says. “I like Scarlett. Hell of a name for a redhead.”
“A redhead? Why would she be…” I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re assuming she’ll be yours.”
He puts his hands up. “Look, obviously all of the kids will belong to us all. I’m just saying, I bet that baby comes out with hair like a damn sunset.”
“And why is that?” Alec asks calmly, switching lanes.
“Well. I reckon I shagged our girl the most,” Fraser says cheerfully. A Hula Hoop enters my trachea.
“And how do you figure that?” Alec wonders.
Fraser pats me on the back as I fight for air.
“Well, the two of us had some extra-curriculars, didn’t we, baby?
There was that night after Isla and Em’s party where you attacked me when we got home.
And a few weeks ago, when the rain came down while we were in the fields.
We waited it out in the hay barn, and you were wearing this wee white lace dress that went all see-through… ”
“Aye,” Alec says thoughtfully. “I remember. She still had hay in her hair when she came to see me.” He flicks on the windscreen wipers. “You know, you really didn’t have to rip her thong like that. It was one of my favourites. Makes her behind look lovely.”
Fraser gapes at me.
“You went back to work!” I say defensively. “And he had his sleeves rolled up.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Alec advises, as Fraser immediately fumbles with his own sleeves. “If any one of us was enough for her, she wouldn’t need all three, would she?”
“Besides,” I add. “Obviously it’s not a competition. But if it were…” I glance at the back of Cameron’s head. “I think Cameron would edge you both out.”
Fraser is incensed. “What? When? How dare he?”
“Um, remember that day when he helped me with my product try-ons? He was very helpful getting me in and out of the outfits.”
Fraser’s mouth falls open. “Do you need a new assistant?” he demands. “I’ll do anything. I’ll be the best you ever had. Alec, I’m tendering my resignation effective immediately. A more important opportunity has come up, and I simply can’t refuse.”
“Bye then,” Alec says drily.
I laugh and stuff a Hula Hoop into Fraser’s mouth, then cuddle up against his side as we keep driving. As the sun peeks out overhead, a rainbow draws itself across the sky.
It’s just turned early evening when we park outside our holiday cabin.
Relief washes over me as I step out onto the rocks, stretching my legs.
If I thought Lochview was peaceful, Skye is another world entirely—a secluded Scottish island just a bit off the mainland.
Lots of the roads here are only wide enough for one car, and the local village only has one pub and a couple of shops.
There’s barely any noise or light pollution.
The cabin we bought is built right on the shore, and when the tide is in, the waves lap right up to the little garden.
At night, the stars twinkle so brightly they reflect off the sea.
The men start emptying the boot. I consider offering to help them, but I think I have something more important to do. Namely, a really high-stakes wee.
I grab my wash bag. “I’m just going to take a shower,” I say. The men nod, and for once, no one offers to come with me.
The interior of the Skye cabin always reminds me of a wooden ship. The walls are made of honey-brown planks, and the decor is cosy and nautical. I pass framed ocean watercolours and glimmering sea glass ornaments as I trek towards the bathroom. Inside, I regard myself in the seashell-framed mirror.
I look different than I did six years ago. My face and hips are fuller. I’ve stopped hiding my freckles with makeup, and I now wear my hair in natural puffy waves about as often as I style it. I stand taller too, like I’m more comfortable taking up space.
I am. It turns out, it’s a lot easier to be confident in your own skin when you’re not constantly getting “well-meaning” comments suggesting you get Botox and Invisalign and liposuction.
I grimace. Sometimes, the three years I spent fully immersed in influencer culture feel like a dream. It was such an intense, mean world. I’m impressed the younger version of me survived it. I feel bad that she felt like she had to.
Things are so much better now. I genuinely like who I am, and I’m surrounded by people who love me no matter what. I can just…be, and it’s good enough.