Page 197 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
“Come on,” she murmurs, guiding me inside.
The distillery living room is exactly what I need.
Large.
Warm.
Comfortable.
A fire crackling in the stone fireplace.
I collapse onto the leather couch like a puppet with its strings cut.
Keira drapes a blanket over my shoulders and hands me a glass of water.
“Drink first. Then we’ll talk. Or not. Whatever you need.”
I drink.
The water is cold and soothing.
It does absolutely nothing for the knot lodged in my throat.
Fifteen minutes later, Jane arrives carrying a box of scones.
“Mrs. Finley baked a fresh batch. I stole most of them.”
She drops onto the couch beside me.
“Does everyone know?” I whisper.
“Know what?” Jane asks gently.
I bite my lip as tears flood my eyes, and it takes a superhuman effort not to completely break down.
Emma, who arrived with Jane, looks blurry through my tears.
“I made tea,” she says softly. “Whisky can come later if necessary.”
She pours tea into mugs while Keira places a bottle of whisky from the distillery onto the coffee table anyway.
Now there are four of us.
Me, curled beneath a blanket.
Keira, Jane, and Emma surrounding me without smothering me.
Nobody pressures me to speak.
But the words come out anyway.
“It was fake.”
My voice sounds rough.
Broken.
I stare down at my hands twisting nervously together.
