Chapter 38 #2
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.