11. Chapter 11
Sunlight poured through the pub’s massive windows, white-painted brick reflecting light across the wooden floor.
Our small table for four offered a perfect view of the harbor rippling below.
Soon Max arrived, half-sprinting across the restaurant toward us, snapping his phone case shut mid-text.
His blue shirt was doing amazing things for his eyes.
I gripped my water glass and looked at the harbor instead.
Once he’d taken a seat, I made the introductions. “Max, this is Angus. And you remember Caitlin?”
“Definitely. Great to see you, and congratulations to the two of you.”
“Thanks,” said Angus.
A waiter swooped in with menus and a water pitcher just as the inevitable awkward silence descended upon us. “Tonight’s special is grilled salmon with a sweet mustard sauce,” he announced, “served with asparagus and quinoa.”
He left us, but now we had something to break the ice.
“That sounds amazing,” said Caitlin.
“Everything here is amazing,” said Max.
We ordered a few of the local beers: Skye Red, Skye Gold, and Skye Black. The waiter brought us a basket of warm bread.
The waiter hovered, pen poised. “Anything to start?”
“Oh my God,” Caitlin whispered, scanning the menu. “They have cheese fondue.”
Angus nodded decisively. “The Isle of Mull cheddar, please. For the table.”
The waiter nodded and left.
Max leaned forward. “First time in the Highlands?”
“Second,” said Caitlin. “But Angus is the local.”
“Drumnadrochit, born and raised,” Angus clarified, his accent thickening slightly. “Haven’t set foot on Skye since primary school.”
“We made it to the Fairy Pools earlier,” I said, then caught myself. “Though we meant to see the Fairy Glen.”
“Both are worth the trek,” Max said.
“Actually, we wondered if the Glen might work for your ceremony. Something intimate.”
“On that wee patch of fragile, protected land?” said Angus. “With carloads of tourists already trampling through?”
“But couldn’t we visit during off-hours?” asked Caitlin. “When the tourists aren’t—”
“The logistics would be a nightmare,” Angus cut in. “Power for the music, tables for the food…”
“We could always hold the reception elsewhere,” I suggested. I caught Max watching me and thought of all those film sets, elaborate catering in the middle of nowhere.
I cleared my throat. “Why don’t we visit tomorrow anyway? You two could bring your wedding clothes, and we’ll take some photos. It would be beautiful.”
Caitlin’s face brightened, and even Angus nodded, seemingly pleased with this middle ground.
“You’ll all love it. It’s magical. We could go early so we’re the only ones around, or maybe late late and try to catch a little magic hour?” said Max.
Caitlin glanced toward the windows. “It’s nearly ten and still daylight. How is that possible?”
Angus reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her engagement ring. “Welcome to Scotland in summer, love.”
“I knew it intellectually, but experiencing it…” She shook her head. “The sun barely sets.”
“And we’re not even as far north as Orkney,” Angus added.
“I’ve always wanted to visit there,” Max said, just as I said the same thing. Our eyes met briefly before the waiter rescued us, arriving with a steaming pot of fondue that filled the air with the sharp tang of cheddar and ale.
Angus dipped a chunk of bread, watched the cheese stretch in glistening strands. “Sweet mother of God.”
Caitlin closed her eyes as she took her first bite. “This is incredible.”
Watching her savor the cheese, I had a sudden thought. “You know, Caitlin, brides are supposed to avoid fitting into dresses and eating cheese in the same week. But you’ve got multiple dresses in different sizes waiting for you…”
Her eyes lit up with understanding. “Which means diet rules don’t apply!”
We flagged down the waiter and ordered a second pot, abandoning all thoughts of main courses.