CHAPTER TWENTY ~ GRAEME ~ FOUR YEARS AGO
My brother is getting married this weekend, and I might be more nervous than the groom himself. Scratch that, I know I am; Brodie is the picture of calm confidence. After twelve years with Drew, he’s more than ready for them to be husband and wife.
My nerves have nothing to do with my little brother marrying the love of his life. No, my anxiety comes from the fact I’m about to see the love of my life for the first time in two years.
My original plan was to arrive in Toronto a week before the wedding so I could spend time with everyone and help with last-minute wedding details.
My work schedule had other ideas. For the last few months, I’ve been involved in the sale of a large private estate on Skye, and the sellers have been incredibly demanding.
They’re good people, and their exacting standards are a result of them selling the estate out of necessity rather than desire, so I’ve been doing what I can to make the process as easy as possible.
That means I’ve been lax with my best man duties, although Brodie has been his usual understanding, patient self.
We’ve arranged everything via video chat and phone calls, and our parents handled putting together my wedding outfit.
My whirlwind trip will include the rehearsal dinner tonight, the wedding tomorrow, and a post-wedding brunch the next day before I get on a plane that afternoon.
“Slàinte mhath,” Dad says, holding up his whisky glass.
Brodie and I echo the Gaelic toast, and the three of us clink glasses.
We’re gathered in the bar of the swanky hotel where the wedding is being held to have a quick catch-up before dinner with the others.
My intent to sip the drink turns into downing it like a shot, then calling to the bartender for another.
Brodie lets out a hoot of laughter and claps me on the back. “Steady on, brother.”
I accept the refill from the bartender with a murmured thanks, and raise the glass toward Brodie for a do-over.
“It’s been a long few weeks, and I got overzealous in my desire to celebrate.
I couldn’t be happier for you and Drew. Or for the rest of us, knowing at this time tomorrow she’ll officially be a MacKinlay. ”
We clink glasses again, and I sip my drink this time.
“Is that a preview of your best man speech?” Brodie asks.
“Aye, I think I struck the perfect balance between mushy stuff and embarrassing childhood memories,” I tell him.
“Can’t wait.” He chuckles and then lets out a long sigh as he glances around, taking in the high ceilings, glittering tableware, and elegant flower arrangements.
I’ve only seen pictures and videos of the small ballroom where the wedding ceremony and reception will be held, but it has a similar vibe to the hotel’s restaurant.
“I can’t believe the big day is almost here. ”
“How are you feeling?” Dad asks.
Brodie’s grin could power the entire city for the rest of the year.
“Fantastic. Ready. Excited.” He laughs when I snort into my glass.
“Drew has pointed out that being married won’t be much different to how things are now since we’ve lived together for ages and our lives are completely entwined. It feels different, though.”
Dad and I exchange glances, and he raises an eyebrow. “Is she excited?” I ask tentatively.
“Oh, aye, she is, don’t worry about that.
I’m not dragging her to the altar or anything.
” Brodie shoots me another grin before taking a sip of his whisky.
“Even after all these years, I think part of her is still afraid to allow herself to want more or accept that she deserves the best. She claimed we should do a courthouse ceremony since it seemed silly to throw a big, fancy wedding for fewer than fifty guests. I told her she deserved the wedding of her dreams, whatever that looked like. Once she truly believed it, she dove into the planning.”
And took Abby along with her, from what I’ve heard.
For the last few months, many of Abby’s texts have consisted of pictures of flower arrangements, cake samples, and the interiors of various dress shops around Toronto.
While we’ve stayed in semi-regular contact over the years and have seen each other during my visits to the city, we never quite got back to the closeness we had before Scotland.
At first, we were busy getting set up in our new lives.
Then as time went on, I think it was too hard for us to pretend we hadn’t spent two wonderful, life-changing weeks where we were the centre of each other’s world.
We’ve gone through stretches of time where our contact was more frequent, but for the most part, we send each other casual messages, paired with random photos and memes, and the occasional phone call for a proper catch-up.
“Ahh, there’s my gorgeous bride,” Brodie says, hopping off his stool.
I spin on my seat to face the entrance. Drew and my mum have their arms linked and their heads bent close as they chat.
As Abby steps out from behind them, my heart leaps into my throat as if it’s trying to burst out of me to get to her.
This is only my fourth time seeing her since I moved back to Scotland, and I swear she gets more beautiful every time.
The rust-coloured cocktail dress she’s wearing hugs her delicious curves.
Her hair, which is much longer than the last time I saw her, falls over one shoulder in an intricate braid.
Her eyes lock with mine. She slows her pace, falling a few steps behind Mum and Drew. Her expression is blank as she comes to a complete stop, causing a waiter to swerve around her. She apologizes profusely and then scurries to catch up, joining us just as Drew throws her arms around me.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Drew says, practically strangling me with the force of her embrace.
“I am too,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”
She kisses my cheek, then gently pats where her lips landed. “No worries, mister big-shot real estate mogul. Brodie and I are so proud of you.”
“We all are,” Mum chimes in from where she’s currently perched on my dad’s lap.
You’d think they were still newlyweds from the way they’re always touching and kissing.
Brodie and I joke about how disturbing their open affection can be, but we both admire the hell out of them and aspire to that level of love, respect, and devotion in a relationship.
I’d say Brodie and Drew are well on their way.
“I’m hardly a mogul, but thank you all the same,” I say.
“Anyway, we’ll have time to catch up properly when we’re in Scotland for our honeymoon,” Drew says, her eyes alight with pleasure.
The pair is leaving for Scotland a few days after the wedding. They’ll spend several days in Edinburgh with our parents, followed by a week in a cabin in the Highlands, and then a week with me in Skye before heading back for another couple of days in Edinburgh.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say. “I have all sorts of things planned for when you visit.”
“I can’t wait,” Drew says, clapping her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Now if you can help me convince this one to join us for at least part of the trip, the whole thing will be perfect.” She jerks a thumb in Abby’s direction, and I allow myself to look at her properly for the first time since she joined us.
Abby rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Because who doesn’t want to be a third wheel on their best friends’ honeymoon? Also, hi, Graeme.”
“Hiya, Pumpkin Spice.” I hold out my arms, and she moves forward without hesitation.
I expect a quick hug since we have an audience, but she wraps her arms around me tightly, so I do the same.
We hold on for longer than is likely appropriate, but I don’t care.
Having her back in my arms again feels so damn right.
I kiss her cheek as we release each other, and notice two things: first, the flush on her cheeks, and second, the thin silver chain that disappears under the neckline of her dress.
She’s worn the Luckenbooth during my other visits to Canada, and I’ve noticed it in every selfie or group picture she sends me.
Knowing she still wears it after all these years fills me with a sense of hope I’m not sure I have any right to feel.
“You could join us just for the Skye portion, which means you wouldn’t be a third wheel because Graeme would be there,” Drew says.
“This is true,” I say. “You’d be welcome to stay with me for as long as you like.”
“Or us,” Mum chimes in. “You know you always have an open invitation.”
“I do, thank you.” Abby smiles sweetly at both of my parents. “As I’ve told Drew multiple times,” she says pointedly, eyes narrowed at her best friend, “now’s not a good time to take a vacation. We’re in the middle of a merger, and things at the office are chaotic.”
Her gaze shifts to the well-dressed man who approaches to tell us our table is ready. She looks as if she wants to kiss him in gratitude for interrupting this conversation.
As we’re led to our reserved table at the back of the restaurant, Brodie checks his phone and informs us our cousin, Dougal, who’s serving as a groomsman, will be ten minutes late.
When Drew tells us Fern should be here any minute, Brodie and I exchange a look.
Dougal and Fern were looking cozy in the lobby when I arrived earlier, and Brodie and I predicted they’d be the stereotypical wedding party hook-up of the weekend.
I’d been grateful when he hadn’t made a joke about the best man and maid of honour getting together, and I hadn’t allowed my mind to linger on the thought.
“Looks like we’re together,” Abby says, pointing to the name cards on the table. “Sitting together, I mean.”
I pull out her chair, and she offers me a small smile. The scent of her familiar floral perfume greets me as she slides into her seat, evoking a flood of memories I immediately shove aside.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” I ask after a server has been by to fill our wine glasses.