Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
And Callie … my gut screamed that it would only reinforce Callie’s idea that I wasn’t constant in my love.
It was, in fact, the stupidest fucking plan I’d ever considered.
“You’re both right,” I cut my sister and friend off from whatever they were bantering about.
“We are?” Eilidh wrinkled her nose. “About what again? Fyfe befuddled me with his mild misogynism.”
“Uh!” Fyfe made a noise at a pitch I didn’t know was possible for him. “How dare you?”
My wee sister grinned mischievously. “You’re so easy to wind up.”
He rolled his eyes and turned to me. “What are we right about?”
“That pretending to date Carianne to make Callie jealous is a bad idea. Not only is it childish, but I think it would push Callie further away.”
“Agreed,” they said in unison and then shot each other a mock scowl.
“So …” I sighed heavily. “Any ideas on what I should do next?”
“Well.” Eilidh smirked. “I know this might not make you happy, Mr. Impatient, but I think you should try a different tactic. It’ll take longer, but it’s more likely to work.”
“And what’s that?”
“Ask her if you can try to be just friends.”
“Just friends?”
“Just friends. Then you can spend time together without all the pressure and you can remind Callie that you’re a loyal, good person she can trust.”
I looked at Fyfe.
My friend nodded. “She’s right.”
“Did it hurt you to admit that?” Eilidh teased.
Fyfe shot her a look. “Why? Because I’m mildly misogynistic?”
“Did I say mildly? I meant wildly.”
“Friends,” I interrupted them. “You both think I should propose friendship?”
“If you want to prove that your first thoughts are to Callie, then aye,” my sister insisted. “She needs trust to build between you again.”
I realized with some chagrin that Eilidh was correct. I’d returned to Ardnoch so hell-bent on getting Callie back, I’d come at it from the perspective of what I wanted, not what Callie needed. If I really was determined to play the long game, then I had to court Callie stealthily.
Friends first.
Eighteen
CALLIE
The following Monday, a postcard arrived at my parents’ house for me. It was from an old friend. The postcard had the words “Greetings from London” along with an image of Big Ben on it. On the back was a handwritten message:
Taking some time to see the world. Being here makes me think of you. Maybe I’ll come to Scotland to say hello to ma belle amie. Gabriel.
It was out of the blue. After the way things fizzled out between us, I hadn’t expected to ever hear from Gabriel again. Yet I was glad. It was nice to know he still thought of me and I was relieved to hear he was taking some time for himself. There were many things he didn’t tell me and I think one of them was how stressed his work made him. I didn’t really expect him to travel all the way to Ardnoch to see me, but I appreciated the sentiment and the postcard put a smile on my face. As did the fact Mum and I sold out at the bakery by eleven o’clock that morning. Now that tourists had fully descended on Ardnoch, we were busier than ever. It had been a good morning so far.
I’d been there to see a bride’s face when she saw the wedding cake Mum had made for her. She’d burst into tears of happiness, and I was so freaking proud of Mum for creating such special moments for people.
Then Arro Adair, Lewis’s aunt, had stopped by the bakery before work. Apparently, Mum had told her I was looking for a place to rent. It was true. Although Harry had apologized and I knew he meant it, I still sensed a slight resentment from him that I’d inadvertently made his life so difficult these past few weeks. I thought maybe if I got my own place, it might help ease things between us. And maybe it would shut up all the folks who were saying I was mooching off my parents. My salary from the bakery was decent, enough to get a small flat.
“Our cottage, the one you used to stay in when you first moved here with your mum, is back on the market for rent,” Arro had explained as she bought a couple of pastries. “It’s yours if you want it.”
The two-bedroom cottage Mum and I had lived in before moving into Dad’s bungalow was a quaint period property on Castle Street. Honestly, I loved the cottage. But … “I’m not sure I can afford it.”
Arro had suggested a rental figure that made me gape. “Surely, you can get more than that?”
“Maybe. But I’d rather have you living there because I know you’ll take care of it.”
“Aunt Arro, are you sure?” The aunt part had slipped out because it’s what I started calling her years ago when I was with Lewis.