Page 261 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
We kiss beneath the stars.
Ragnar lets out a soft bleat while Courage makes something vaguely resembling a bark.
Inside the cottage, Ragnar immediately heads for his favorite rug near the fireplace with Courage beside him.
I watch Finn hang up our coats and place our shoes neatly side by side.
Simple everyday gestures.
Proof that we’re building a real life together now.
For real this time.
I turn toward the window and look out at the dark Highlands.
I’ve never felt more at home than I do right now.
Finn walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Any regrets?” he murmurs against my hair.
“Not a single one.”
Far off in the distance, the massive silhouette of Castle McGregor rises against the star-filled sky.
Somewhere inside, Maggie is probably already plotting her next matchmaking scheme.
The twins don’t stand a chance.
But maybe that’s what love looks like in the McGregor family:
Chaotic.
Manipulated.
Carefully orchestrated.
And absolutely perfect.
I turn in Finn’s arms and kiss him again.
Our fake relationship became real.
Our temporary arrangement became permanent.
And the story we once pretended to tell became the truth of our lives.
Nothing could possibly feel more perfect than this.
TO BE CONTINUED
MAGGIE
The sun slowly sinks over the Highlands, painting the sky in gold and violet. That unique Scottish summer light wraps Castle McGregor in something almost unreal, as though the old stones themselves have dressed in their finest colors to celebrate another victory.
From the window of her bedroom, Maggie McGregor watches the gardens with the quiet satisfaction she only ever allows herself in private. At eighty-four years old—though she still insists she’s eighty-two—she hasn’t lost a single ounce of sharpness. Dressed in a burgundy silk house gown embroidered with Scottish thistles and a cashmere shawl draped elegantly over her shoulders, she looks more than ever like a queen surveying her kingdom.
Below, Mary and Finn walk side by side down the gravel path, close enough that their shoulders brush. Mary laughs at something the doctor just said, which is miracle enough on its own. Finn—that grumpy doctor—smiles back at her with a tenderness that would’ve stunned the entire village of Glenfield a few months ago. Ragnar, in a gesture bordering on the supernatural, trots behind them without attempting to sabotageMary in any way. A level of tolerance worth more than any declaration of love.
