Chapter 49 Summer
FORTY-NINE
SUMMER
Iclose my eyes, feeling Fraser’s heart thud steadily beneath my cheek. Overhead, the sun warms my body.
It’s noon on Sunday. We’ve just had our daily “swim,” and now we’re lying out on the bank of the glassy loch, breathing in the green from the moss and trees.
I’m in Fraser’s T-shirt, my hair frizzing as it dries.
He’s shirtless and in a pair of underwear.
As a fashion expert, I can confidently say it’s his best look.
Fraser nudges me. “Hey.”
I peek my eyes open. A line of ducklings are waddling after their mother towards the loch. Two weeks ago, I would have scrambled for my phone, but now I just watch, heart full, as the tiny yellow puffs bumble across the moss.
“Do you think she ever gets sick of them?” I wonder as the babies trip after their mum. “I bet she wants a few minutes of peace sometimes.”
When I was a kid, Mum got so annoyed whenever I bounced around after her chattering. Can you stop following me around like a duckling? Go do your homework.
Fraser snorts. “You trying to tell me something? You want us to stop following you around like wee chickies, you gotta stop looking so bonnie. We can’t help it.”
I sit up to admire his body spread out under me. “I don’t mean you.”
“Aye, I’m glad to hear it.”
I run my hand down his bare thigh, feeling the muscle. “Hey, do you guys ever wear kilts?”
“Aye, we all have one or two folded away somewhere. They’re a bit formal, but some of the oldies insist we wear ’em for their grandkids’ christenings and weddings and the like.”
Mmm. I draw a circle on his knee. “What’s yours like?”
“I’ve got my family’s tartan. Red, brown, green. And then I’ve got the Lochview one—blue and silver. It’s given to the workers on the farm.”
I nod studiously. “About how long are they, would you say?” I wonder, still touching his massive legs.
He chuckles. “Why, you want me to model them for you?”
“Noooo. I’m just taking an interest in fashion history.”
He pushes himself up on his elbows, his nose nudging mine. “I cannae blame you,” he murmurs. “Of course you want a good look at my legs. It’s only fair when you show off so much of yours.” He trails his fingers teasingly up my knee. “I’ll dig ’em out for you before you go,” he promises.
“You will?”
“Aye.” He tips his lips closer, until they’re just a millimetre from mine. “There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you.”
I close the gap between us and kiss him, relishing his groan. I’ve just shoved him down onto the moss when a shadow falls over my back. Cameron is standing over me, silhouetted against the bright sun. He’s leaning on a wooden cane I’ve never seen before.
“Cameron!” I sit up, ignoring Fraser’s attempts to tug me back onto him. “Are you feeling better?” After I visited him in his room yesterday, I woke up in his bed alone.
He offers me his spare hand. “Up. We’re off. Truck’s packed.”
I let him lever me to my feet. “Off? Are we going somewhere?”
“Inverness,” he says without preamble. “Need to make deliveries.” He reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a paper bag, handing it to me. “You’re coming. You’d only make trouble here. Probably set the place on fire. Eat that.”
I obediently open the bag. There’s a raspberry Danish inside, and I take a bite of the warm pastry. This has been happening all week; Cameron materialising with a snack for me. Fraser really wasn’t kidding when he said Cameron would try to feed me. I’m getting ridiculously spoiled.
“Really?” I manage through a mouthful of crumbs. “We’re going to the city?” It’ll be my first taste of civilisation in weeks. I wonder if I’ll be able to convince the men to try a frappuccino.
“Calm down,” Cameron says and leaves.
Fraser stands, yanking his jeans on. “Aye, we go about once a month. It’ll be fun.
Change of scenery for you. Even Alec says he’ll join, and he usually never comes.
” He takes my hand. “Let’s get you dressed, eh?
And see if you can’t remember your undies this time, so he doesn’t try to punish you again. ”
Ninety minutes later, Alec pulls the truck in a busy grey car park. I stare in confusion at the glittering glass building in front of us. The words “Inverness Designer Outlet” are splashed over the rotating doors, surrounded by the logos of different shops.
“You’re making a wool delivery…to a mall?” I ask, hopping out.
“No.” Alec locks the car.
“But…” I look up at Cameron.
“You like shopping,” he says, like it’s obvious. He jerks his thumb at the shopping centre. “Shops.”
“Fancy ones, I’d say,” Fraser agrees cheerfully. “We figured you’d want to get a wee spree in before the end of your holiday.”
I tear up a little. “You brought me here to shop? That’s so nice. Shall I meet you back here in a couple of hours, or—” I fumble in my pockets. “I don’t have my phone.”
Fraser laughs, winding an arm around my shoulders. “No chance. We want to see you in action.”
I blink. “But the deliveries…”
“Can wait until this afternoon,” Alec says. “We have plenty of time to get our work done. We came here for you.”
“Not every day you get three big strong men carrying your shopping bags, is it?” Fraser asks. “It was Cam’s idea. He was very insistent.”
I stare at Cameron in wonder. “You were?”
His cheeks colour. “All right,” he mutters and heads off towards the shopping centre.
The inside of the mall is a maze of shimmering glass and marble floors, packed with big label brands and boutique designers. I’m beside myself as I examine the floor plan.
Sure, I’m a nature girl now. I love petting sheep and feeding chickens and stuff.
But there’s just something about clothes shopping that lights me up inside.
I barely know where to begin. I spot a boutique for a Scottish designer I’ve never heard of.
Mannequins dressed in slouchy knitwear pose in the window. I basically run inside.
The three men follow me patiently as I flit around the store, oohing and ahhing as I go through the racks.
I pick up a gorgeous pink cashmere scarf that would look great on my mum and a tartan skirt for Lulu.
“She’ll love this,” I inform the men. “It almost looks like Chanel. Hey, did you know how much traditional Scottish tailoring has impacted designer fashion? Coco Chanel dated a Scottish duke, and a ton of her clothes were inspired by what locals were wearing at the time, that’s why there’s so much tweed—” I cut myself off, running towards a rack of tailored coats in spring shades.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, pulling out one in a dusty-rose pink.
It’s in a vintage thirties cut. My eyes turn into hearts.
Alec comes up behind me. “Is it just the colour you like?” he asks.
“The colour, yes, but also the shape of it. This is a bell skirt, and you never see that nowadays, and this button placement is so smart, and—” I run my fingers up the silky inside of the coat and shiver with pleasure. “God. Feel the lining, Cameron!” I grab his hand and force him to stroke it.
“Very nice,” he says gruffly.
“Is the lining important?” Fraser wonders, popping up on my other side. He’s wearing two scarves, a pair of sunglasses, and a beret he’s stolen from a mannequin.
“Yes, it does so much to preserve the shape of a garment. And, of course, it’s so important for people with sensory issues that you pick the right lining. When I was making heavy items in fashion school, I always lined them with—”
“Careful,” Cameron interrupts, pulling me out of the way of a sales assistant pushing a rack of clothes. I blink as I’m jolted out of my stream of consciousness. I’ve been talking way too much.
Not everyone wants to hear about the history of polka dots, Summer, my mum’s voice chides in my ear. A bad feeling suddenly prickles at me.
“Oh no!” I cry. “I’m so sorry.”
“We forgive you,” Fraser says cheerfully.
“What did you do?” Cameron asks.
I think back to this morning in horror. “I think I forgot to take my meds this morning!”
God. I totally did. I remember the moment clearly. I was lying in bed with Fraser, about to take my pill, when Alec came in to remind me. But him reminding me distracted me, and then I forgot. My cheeks flame. “You reminded me, and I still forgot. I’m sorry.”
Alec is frowning. “Do you get withdrawal symptoms? I imagine you could pick up an emergency prescription at the pharmacy—”
“Oh no, I mean, I’m fine. I take days off from them, if I’m not working or around people. But I’ll be a bit scatterbrained today. Just tell me to shut up if I start waffling on.”
All three men look at me as if I’m speaking gibberish.
“No,” Cameron says flatly.
“But—”
“Don’t be silly,” Fraser says. “We love when you waffle on. Especially about things that make your eyes go all sparkly like a cartoon character. You’re really into fashion, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been obsessed with it since I was a kid.” I hang the coat back up sadly. It’s adorable, but it’s too girly and vintage for my brand, and I couldn’t wear it in pictures. I have millions of coats back home.
“Tell us,” Alec orders.
I scoff. “You don’t want to know all that.”
“I want to know everything about you,” he says simply. “Tell us. Please.”
I look up at him. His eyes glow under the fluorescents. My heart stammers. “Are you begging me?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“Tell us, Summer.”
So I do. As we trail through the racks, I tell them about how, as a kid, I’d collect magazines and cut out my favourite tops and dresses and skirts, meticulously pasting them into outfits in a sketchbook I called my Lookbook.
As I got older, the collages turned into actual drawings.
I’d stay up late, drawing “dream dresses” by torchlight as mum worked in the dining room.
“All I wanted was to start my own fashion line one day,” I say, picking up a pearl-encrusted headband. “I daydreamed about the clothes I’d make. The studio I’d have. I always imagined building one at the bottom of my garden.”
“What would it be like?” Cameron says.
I glance at him. His eyes are intent on my face.
He looks genuinely interested. “Pink,” I say.
“With white flowerboxes outside the windows full of pink flowers. A big sewing desk. A sofa. Dress forms.” I smile fondly.
“And there’d be no one to tell me that I was making a mess.
It was like my comfort daydream. I’d go there in my mind whenever I was upset.
I drew it over and over again in my Lookbook.
” I put the headband back. “Until Mum found it and threw it out.”
Alec stops walking.
“No,” Fraser gasps. “She did not.”
I nod. “She said that instead of spending so much time daydreaming about clothes, I should be working on my spelling. I should have hidden it better, really. She didn’t even let me have magazines after that.
” I mournfully poke at a floppy sunhat. “She said they were propaganda to make little girls stupid.”
Fraser plops the hat on my head. “Bit harsh. I was obsessed with dinosaurs. Mum says I used to roar at people in the Sainsbury’s.”
“Yes, but I never grew out of mine. To this day, I’m still obsessed with dressing up.”
“It’s fine,” Cameron speaks up. His face is dark. “It’s just what you like. It’s not childish to like what you like.” He sniffs. “Makes more sense than you wearing clothes you hate. If you want to have sparkly lips for no reason, do it. It’s fine.”
“No one said anything about her lip gloss, mate,” Fraser says cheerfully.
Cameron ignores him, staring at me. “It’s fine,” he repeats. He says it so matter-of-factly that it’s hard to argue with him.
“Yeah, I guess.” I bite my lip. “I think…I’m going to get that pink coat.”
Fraser grins, pulling me into his side. “Atta girl. And while we’re at it, I saw some lovely thigh-high socks with wee bows over there that I think will look just stunning on you.”
We spend the next few hours in the shopping centre, traipsing from store to store.
I tell myself I won’t buy much, but that lie quickly dissolves.
I pick out a nacre handbag shaped like a butterfly.
Crystal earrings like clusters of dewdrops.
A slouchy cardigan with strawberries crocheted on.
A feather-trimmed mint babydoll that makes Alec’s eyes go dark.
I even buy a lavender beret. Which is ridiculous.
Who wears berets? But it looks so adorable with the lilac platforms I’d found in the previous shop that I couldn’t resist. As we go through shop after shop, I feel an old version of myself that I’d long buried slowly coming back to life.
A version of me that played with fashion without worrying about looking weird.
I used to gladly go out in public wearing thigh high boots and a pink faux fur coat.
I’d spend hours trying fantastical sparkly makeup looks, or making nail sets covered in pearls and gemstones.
I didn’t care that I looked over the top, it made me happy.
I expect the men to get bored, but they seem content trailing around carrying my growing pile of bags. We eventually end up in a boutique full of local designers. I’m halfway through a soliloquy about the history of sweetheart necklines when I see it.
The dress.
It’s the ultimate Cinderella dress. I float closer without meaning to, practically drooling.
My eyes trace the tight, lilac bodice. The cinched waist. The sweeping, gorgeously draped silk skirt.
It looks almost like one of the pieces I designed for my fairy tale–themed final project in uni but never got to actually make.
My inner child flops to the ground in glee.
“That one then,” Cameron says, stepping up behind me and hooking it off the rail.
“No,” I say even as I reach out to touch the flounces of purple fabric. “I shouldn’t. Where would I even wear it?”
“You go to plenty of events, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I can’t show up to them in a princess gown.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not appropriate. Right now, everything’s very nineties. Slip dresses and camis, that sort of thing.”
Cameron picks up the dress and tosses it over his shoulder. “Now shoes,” he declares.
“What?”
“Shoes. Go find them. Pink ones.”
“Um, I don’t need any pink shoes…
“Your shoes got ruined,” he says. “Because of me. Didn’t show you where the path was, and they got in the mud.” His face darkens. “Your favourite ones.”
“Oh, that’s okay—”
“Summer.” Alec’s voice deepens with an authority that sends a tingle down my spine. “Go find shoes. Now.”
I’m moving before I even know what’s happening, Fraser’s laughter echoing behind me.