“Is that wise?” Still, he reached behind the bar for the bottle, pouring them a fresh round.
Eiley was about to splutter out another laugh when Warren appeared between her and Harper, waving for Graeme’s attention. She stiffened at the sound of his throaty voice ordering another beer, his please and thank yous impeccably polite. Why did it still surprise her? She knew he wasn’t the arrogant swine she’d painted him as to Harper, but still expected, perhaps even hoped, that his kindness would turn out to be a lie. That way, she could say she was right and forget him. Properly. No more midnight yearning.
Harper followed Eiley’s gaze. Eiley glared at her before she said something, but it was too late.
“Hercules!”
“Excuse me?” Warren eyed each of them, stonier than usual.
“She said herpes!” Eiley said, and then realised that it wasn’t any better. In fact it was very much worse. “She has this awful cold sore coming,” she lied on a stammer.
“Right.” He raised a brow, but turned his attention back to the pint Graeme was expertly pouring.
“We’re currently hosting a book club if you’d like to join,” Harper continued, unfazed. “We don’t actually talk about books, but if you have any recommendations, we can make an exception.”
“I don’t think your boyfriend would be too happy about that.” Warren sniffed, taking out his wallet to drop a fiver on the bar before leaning to face them finally. “And besides, I’m just ‘a sleazy jobsworth’, aren’t I? Wouldn’t want someone as awful as me to ruin your fun.”
With that, he walked away, leaving them in stunned silence.
Eiley looked at Harper, unsure whether she wanted to shout or cry.
Cry. Definitely cry.
She’d had no idea he’d overheard them earlier. She usually talked quietly, but perhaps the wine made her loud. And mean. How was he to know she’d been saying those things to shut down her own lust, not because she meant them?
“Oh, fiddlesticks,” was the closest thing to a curse she could muster as she sank into her drink – but it was drowned out by Harper and her resolute, “Oh, fuck,” which summed it up much better.
17
Despite the busyness of the autumn festival it was the first time Eiley had felt like herself in a while. The bookstall was flanked on either side by pumpkins she’d carved and hollowed out with Brook and Sky, an arrangement of sunflowers and marigolds spilling from the top. The stand was made brighter, albeit less organised, by their leaf artwork and paintings, along with some flimsy orange and purple garlands strung over the wooden slats.
Maggie had helped move some stock to the van, which she supervised from behind her stall as shoppers browsed. Discounted copies filled her table, all books she’d managed to save with a bit of tender loving care anda lotof whispered pleas for the pages to not disintegrate as they dried. Without Fergus here to interfere, she’d relocated her autumnal recommendations to a library cart,Lord of the Fliesnot included.
Cam appeared holding a tray of drinks. Judging by the melting blob of whipped cream on top, it was something tasty, and she was quick to grab the one with the most caramel drizzle as soon as it was within reach. “Have I mentioned recently that you’re my favourite sister?”
“Uh-huh, sure.” Cam’s features were pricklier than usual, likely due to the sea-blue apron and wonky nametag she wore. Every year, she made sure to complain an obscene amount about how exhausting it was to man the festival stall rather than work as usual in the comfort of the Raindrop Café, which sat on the edge of the loch. Yet, every year, she made the best seasonal drinks in town – especially since Harper had convinced her to put pumpkin spice on the menu – although she had extra competition in the form of Bel’s Brews across the road.
“Where are the kids?” She shouted to get their attention: “I brought them hot chocolates.”
“Oh, Brook’s walking around with his pal Katy and her family. They’re joined at the hip these days. But Sky and Saff are reading inside.” Eiley sipped her drink. The saltiness of the caramel, mingled with cinnamon and rich coffee, warmed her.
Cam rounded the stall to sing into the bookstore: “Skyyyy, Auntie Cam has got something scrummy for you!” She peered through the open doorway, nodding her approval. “Getting there with the repairs now.”
“Getting … somewhere,” Eiley agreed. Cam had been busy this week with work, kids, and Sorcha, but she’d taken a few evenings to “help out” – which was to say, she’d come to eat Pringles and scroll through TikTok while Eiley did all the work. Eiley had a feeling that her sister was using the bookshop as an excuse to avoid her wife. Cam still wouldn’t say how things were at home since her confession at the spa, a fact that both she and Fraser were worried about. They’d had a few rocky patches over the years, but never about somethingas huge as having more children. They’d been together practically all of their adult lives, and Eiley could barely imagine a version of Cam that didn’t include Sorcha.
Then again, she’d once thought the same about her and Finlay.
Not for the first time, she tried to prod her. Gently, of course. “Where areyourkids, anyway?”
“Sorcha’s taken them to her parents’ for the weekend. There’s some Disney on Ice thing they’re going to see in Glasgow tonight.” Cam batted her hand vaguely, then ducked her head back inside. “Sky, come on out before it gets cold!”
Eiley fiddled with the cash tin nervously. Until they replaced the damaged electronics, she was stuck fumbling about with her phone calculator, a lot of coins, and a portable card reader with dodgy Wi-Fi. “But you guys are okay, aye?”
“We’re fine. Stop fussing.” Cam huffed and stepped into the shop, one of the hot chocolates sloshing over the rim and pooling along the tray. “Eiley, Sky isn’t in here. Only Saff’s on the couch.”
“What?” Her voice grew high-pitched as she rushed into the store behind Cam.
She was right. Only Saffron sat watchingBlueyon her tablet, Sky’s books about marine life abandoned on the patchwork rug.
