Page 47 of Highlands Summer Wedding

Caitlin tapped a finger to her cheek. “No, I think we’re good.”

“Huzzah! Another decision made!” cheered Angus. “We’re on a roll!”

Lindsay stood. “I’ll be right back with the mains.”

Just then Melissa burst in, cheeks rosy. “So sorry I’m late. Caitlin! You look wonderful! Angus, so great to see you!” She hugged them both, then turned to me. “Abby, thank you so much for coming all the way here early and taking on the wedding plans. What a great sister you are!”

“Aw, thanks. It’s what I do,” I said. “How could I say no?”

“Well, I heard there’s an old flame threatening to spontaneously combust at any moment… how can you say no tothat?” Melissa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she nudged me with her elbow.

“More like a volcano,” Caitlin chimed in with a wicked grin.

I waved my hand dismissively, feeling heat creep up my neck. “You two are impossible.”

“We did hear about the paparazzi story. I can’t believe it,” Melissa whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

Sydney’s eyes widened. “Wait—paparazzi? What did I miss?”

She and Elspeth dragged their chairs closer and leaned in. I gave them the condensed version—the flash of a camera outside the restaurant, Max’s hand on my back, the kiss—before filling them in on the financier’s latest position regarding the film.

“But she may end up working on the film as a co-writer and producer,” said Caitlin.

“We’ll see,” I said. “It all depends on the studio and Max’s agent and a lot of moving pieces. Films can fall apart so easily, but I feel like if they’ve already spent this much money…”

“Their name’s already on the tea towels,” finished Caitlin, referencing Diana finding out about Charles and Camila shortly before her wedding day.

“Yeah, well. The royal family has to endure tea towels printed before they’ve said ‘I do,’ but movie posters can be changed up to the very last minute. So can final credits. IMDB… nothing in Hollywood is ever set in stone.”

“Except the handprints on the walk of fame,” said Melissa.

“I suppose that’s true,” I agreed. We shared a grin as Lindsay came out with the mains.

“I have salmon with asparagus and mash; a venison with mushy peas and rumbletythump; haggis, neeps, and tatties; or Balmoral chicken—which is stuffed with haggis, wrapped in bacon, and drizzled in whisky sauce.”

We sampled each dish, and I watched Caitlin’s face as she tasted. Angus would eat anything put in front of him with a smile. After we’d made our way through the options, I leaned forward. “So, verdict?”

Lindsay popped up and made an excuse about checking the desserts in the kitchen—giving us space to share our opinions freely.

“Caitlin? It’s gotta be your call. I loved everything,” said Angus, leaning back and stretching in his chair.

Caitlin propped her chin in her hand, surveying what was left of the dishes. “Even though she stacks the haggis, I think the Balmoral chicken looks nicer, more elevated…”

“Sounds good to me. It’s your wedding,” said Melissa. “Right, Angus?”

“Absolutely,” said Angus, without hesitation.

“So I think if we have a choice of Balmoral chicken or salmon, that should be enough, right?” asked Caitlin.

“You might consider a vegan option,” Elspeth suggested.

“She didn’t make one. I don’t want to ask,” said Caitlin, worrying her lip. “Do we even have any vegans?”

“There are always vegans,” Angus proclaimed dramatically. “For wherever there is haggis, blood pudding, veal, or venison, there will be vegans.”

Sydney swatted her brother. “Careful who you hate. It might be someone you love,” she said with a grin.

Angus gave his sister a light nudge in return. “I don’t hate them. I’m just saying, there are a lot of people catching on that meat isn’t that great for the environment and choosing a plant-based diet. I’m certainly fond of veggies myself. But for my wedding in Scotland, I want some haggis on the menu. It goes with my kilt.”