Page 84 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
“He does that all the time. He watches you.”
“To make sure I’m not doing anything stupid?”
“Probably.”
When everything’s cleaned up, Mary dries her hands on a dish towel.
“Thanks for today. And for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome.”
A strange moment passes where neither of us seems to know what to say next.
Finally, Mary breaks the silence.
“Good night, Finn.”
“Good night.”
She heads upstairs. I hear her footsteps, then the soft click of her bedroom door closing.
I remain alone in the kitchen.
On the counter, Mary placed the white heather in a vase.
The delicate flowers almost glow in the dim light.
And suddenly, I realize something.
For the first time since arriving at the castle, the guesthouse no longer feels like a temporary prison. It no longer feels like a place where I’m hiding while waiting for the chance to leave.
It’s starting to feel like something else.
Something dangerously close to home.
And that terrifies me.
Because home means permanence.
Home is something people build.
And home is exactly the thing I promised myself I would never search for again.
CHAPTER 14
MARY
The Cursed Plaid
(Or How Chaos-Causing Sheep Crashed Our Date)
The idea comes to me one morning while I’m sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.
A romantic picnic by the loch, overlooking the village. Somewhere all of Glenfield can watch us play the role of hopelessly-in-love lovebirds.
It’s perfect.
It’s visible.
