Chapter 20
MARY
The Baby Shower That Revealed Too Many Truths
(Or How You Can Lie to Everyone Except Yourself)
Jane’s baby shower is exactly the kind of event I hate—packed with people asking when it’ll be my turn.
The blue drawing room at the castle has been transformed into an explosion of pastels and garlands that clash violently with the medieval tapestries.
Balloons float near ceiling beams that have probably witnessed executions.
Pink and blue ribbons decorate chairs that once held the weight of warlords.
It looks like someone threw up a Pinterest board all over five centuries of Scottish history.
Jane, seated in the honorary armchair by the fireplace, is glowing. She’s wearing a pale yellow dress that hugs her rounded belly, and she has that perfectly blissful pregnant-woman smile that should make her unbearable—except she’s Jane, and hating Jane is physically impossible.
Callum hovers around her like an overprotective bodyguard, adjusting cushions, bringing her water, checking every three minutes to make sure she’s comfortable.
It’s disgustingly romantic.
And a tiny, inconvenient part of me envies them.
I’m sitting on the couch between Keira and Emma with a glass of punch in hand, watching Finn stand near the window with Nate and Alistair.
He looks like a man who would rather be literally anywhere else.
His shoulders are tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his gaze drifting toward the gardens every few seconds like he’s plotting an escape route.
“You’re not drinking alcohol?” Emma asks, pointing at my fruity punch.
“Someone has to stay sober.”
“Why? The Highland Games don’t start for days. You’ve got plenty of time to recover.”
“Ragnar’s probably inventing a brand-new way to humiliate me as we speak. I’d rather keep all my mental faculties intact.”
Keira laughs.
“At least Hamish likes you.”
“Hamish likes everyone. That’s hardly an achievement.”
“Hamish doesn’t like me,” Lachlan says, dropping onto the armrest beside us. “He stole my wallet last week.”
“He does that to everyone,” I say. “It’s his way of showing affection.”
“By forcing me to cancel every single one of my credit cards?”
“That’s tough love.”
Maggie walks into the room wearing a lavender dress and the deeply satisfied smile she gets whenever her plans unfold exactly the way she intended.
“My darlings,” she announces, clapping her hands together. “Time to start the games!”
A collective groan rises from the men gathered near the window.
“Games?” Alistair repeats suspiciously.
“It’s a baby shower,” Keira says as if that explains everything. “There are always games.”
Despite Isobel’s and Maggie’s protests, we’d decided to include games anyway.
“I thought we were just here to eat appetizers and admire tiny baby clothes,” Nate mutters.
“Nate, my friend,” Keira replies, “you clearly know nothing about baby showers.”
Lily, Nate’s wife, smiles innocently.
“She’s right. The games are the best part.”
“I already regret this,” Nate grumbles.
The first game is relatively harmless: guessing the size of Jane’s belly using toilet paper. Lachlan dramatically overestimates and gets smacked by Emma. Cameron underestimates and earns a death glare from Jane. Connor refuses to participate on the grounds that it’s “social suicide.”
I win.
Finn looks at me with what seems to be equal parts admiration and horror.
“You actually calculated that?” he asks when I sit back down.
“Obviously,” I tease. “Basic geometry.”
“That’s terrifying.”
I shoot him a sideways look.
“It was mostly luck.”
He smiles at me, and suddenly the entire room feels brighter.
The second game is a quiz about traditional Scottish lullabies. Keira destroys everyone because she grew up hearing Grandma Maggie sing them. Alistair tries helping by humming wildly off-key, which sends the room into hysterics.
The third game is crueler. Maggie insisted on it, and worst of all, it has absolutely nothing to do with the baby shower.
“We’re about to test how well you know your partners,” Maggie announces with a smile that promises chaos.
My stomach tightens.
“Each couple will answer questions about the other person,” she continues, passing around little notebooks and pens. “You’ll write down your answers, then compare them. The couple with the most matching responses wins.”
“What do we win?” Lachlan asks.
“The privilege of knowing you truly understand each other.”
“That’s it?”
“And a gift basket from the McKenzie distillery,” Alistair adds. “Otherwise nobody would participate.”
“I’m playing,” Jane declares immediately.
Callum sighs but grabs a notebook.
Finn and I exchange a look.
A very clear we are absolutely screwed look.
Because we’re supposed to be a real couple. The kind who actually know each other. Who share things. Who know each other’s favorite meals and worst childhood memories.
Except we’re not a real couple.
We’re a fake couple who happen to share a roof, a handful of late-night conversations, and a mutual hatred of psychotic sheep.
“First question,” Maggie announces, checking her list. “What’s your partner’s favorite food?”
I glance at Finn. He looks back at me.
I write the first thing that comes to mind: steak frites.
Because that’s what he orders at the pub every chance he gets.
Finn writes something down, focused.
“Who’s first?” Callum asks.
“We’ll go alphabetically,” Maggie decides. “So Alistair and Keira first.”
Alistair raises his notebook confidently.
“Seafood risotto.”
Keira smiles.
“Seafood risotto.”
“One point!” Maggie announces.
“Callum and Jane?”
Callum hesitates.
“Uh… lasagna?”
Jane bursts out laughing.
“Callum, I’m lactose intolerant. You know that.”
“Oh right. Damn. The… uh… salmon?”
“Sushi,” Jane corrects, holding up her notebook. “You’re confusing me with yourself.”
“Zero points,” Maggie declares mercilessly.
Callum scowls.
“That was a trick question. Pregnancy cravings change everything.”
“Lachlan and Emma?”
“Shepherd’s pie,” they say in unison.
Emma adds with a smile, “Your mother’s version. Not mine.”
“Because yours is inedible,” Lachlan confirms.
“One point!” Maggie says. “Nate and Lily?”
Nate lifts his notebook.
“Lemon meringue pie.”
Lily smiles.
“Lemon meringue pie. But only the one from the bakery in Glenfield, not grocery-store pie.”
“I specified that,” Nate says, turning his notebook toward us.
Sure enough, in tiny handwriting, he added: Mrs. Campbell’s bakery.
“Bonus points for detail,” Maggie approves. “Mary and Finn?”
My heart starts racing.
“Steak frites,” I say.
Finn lifts his notebook.
Steak frites.
“Perfect!” Maggie beams. “One point.”
I blink.
“Finn’s answer for Mary?”
Finn hesitates for a fraction of a second.
“Mushroom risotto.”
I freeze.
He’s right.
That is my favorite meal.
How does he know that?
“Mary?”
My fingers tremble slightly as I raise my notebook.
Mushroom risotto.
Keira watches me curiously. Emma smiles. Lily has this soft, emotional look on her face that makes me want to disappear under the couch.
“Two for two! Excellent start,” Maggie says. “Current score: Alistair and Keira, one point. Callum and Jane, zero. Lachlan and Emma, one. Nate and Lily, one. Mary and Finn, two.”
Callum mutters something about “unfair disadvantages caused by pregnancy.”
“What’s your partner’s worst childhood memory?”
My pulse spikes.
I have no idea what Finn’s answer could be. None. He never talks about his childhood. It’s forbidden territory. A locked room I’ve never dared enter.
I shoot him a desperate look.
His face remains unreadable, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.
“Alistair and Keira first,” Maggie decides.
Alistair writes quickly, confidently.
“The day her father sold her favorite pony without warning her.”
Keira lifts her notebook.
The day my dad sold Buttercup.
“One point!”
“It was traumatic,” Keira says. “I was eight. I refused to speak to him for two weeks.”
“Callum and Jane?”
Callum looks deeply stressed.
“Uh… when she failed her driving test?”
Jane glares at him.
“Callum!”
“What was it then?” he asks, confused.
“The day my hamster died,” Jane sighs, showing her notebook. “Mr. Whiskers. I cried for a month.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” Callum protests.
“Maybe by listening when I tell you things about my life?”
“Zero points,” Maggie says. “Lachlan and Emma?”
“When her brother cut her hair while she was sleeping,” Lachlan says.
Emma grimaces at the memory.
“I was six. He shaved half my head. I had to wear hats for six months.”
She lifts her notebook.
Lachlan got it right.
“One point! Nate and Lily?”
“The day she fell off the stage during her dance recital,” Nate says.
Lily groans.
“Why do you remember that?”
“Because you talked about it for three straight hours.”
“I was drunk!” Lily protests. “You weren’t supposed to remember!”
“Still counts,” Maggie says with a grin. “Mary and Finn?”
I write the first thing that comes into my head. A complete fabrication.
Fell off his bike and broke his wrist.
Any little boy has probably done that at least once.
Finn writes something in his notebook.
“Mary?”
“Fell off his bike and broke his wrist.”
It’s such a pathetic answer. The kind of generic memory anyone could invent.
“Finn?”
He slowly raises his notebook.
Fell off his bike and broke his wrist.
Maggie nods and gives us the point.
“Current score: Alistair and Keira, two. Callum and Jane, zero. Lachlan and Emma, two. Nate and Lily, two. Mary and Finn, three.”
“We’re getting destroyed,” Callum mutters.
“That’s because you never listen to me,” Jane shoots back.
“I do listen!”
“My favorite food, Callum. Go ahead. Say it.”
“Sushi?”
The twins snicker from their corner.
I stare at Finn.
How did he know what I was going to write?
Then the third question arrives.
“What is your partner’s secret dream?”
I stare at my notebook.
Finn’s secret dream.
I don’t know.