“Back to New York. To my apartment. Going it solo.” He crumpled lower in his seat with every addition.
“Maybe you could think about getting a pet,” I suggested. “A dog or a cat might help.”
He needed something to get him through this gloom, and animals had done the trick out here. For a minute or two.
“Animals have a short life expectancy.”
I knew it all too well. “But the love they give you is worth the eventual goodbye.”
He hitched a shoulder at my heartfelt endorsement. I wouldn’t dare hope I’d convinced him.
“We all know where Molly’s off to,” Rupert said.
My stomach lurched, fearing they were all imagining Duncan and me escaping off somewhere. They wouldn’t be wrong, I just didn’t want them imagining it.
“She’s going back to work,” he finished.
“Oh,” I said with a half-hearted laugh. “I suppose so.”
Had I ever really left work behind? And what did it say about me that my life could be summed up so succinctly?
Molly, 38, married to her job even in the middle of vacation.
“Don’t forget what I told you, dear.” Bea winked theatrically. “About men.”
I had to suppress a laugh. As though I would forget her helpful hints. “I won’t.”
I looked at Duncan, thinking about all of Bea’s rules I intended to break.
“Back to the daily grind, eh, Duncan?” Rupert said.
He nodded, but his eyes never left me. I suspected rule-breaking was on his mind, too.
“As for us, Monday is our anniversary,” Bea said, earning a round of applause. “Our oldest is planning a big do, the whole family will be there. We met in college, did we mention?”
She recapped the serendipitous meeting she’d described to me in Dingwall.
“Best decision of my life,” Rupert said. “Imagine what would have changed if I’d never gotten on that train.”
They shared a look full of heart-eyes and kissy faces. They were honestly kind of adorable.
The sumptuous feast passed in a blur of food and conversation. I tried not to think too much about saying goodbye to everyone in the morning. I did my utmost to push all my worries, aches, and longings away, focusing on now instead of what might have been. Focusing on Duncan.
I looked at the kilted god beside me, determined to enjoy this night. I could deal with all the rest on the plane home.
* * *
We walked into the dance hall to find the ceilidh in full swing. A mass of people in all levels of formal and informal dress circulated around the huge room, dancing, laughing, and drinking. A band featuring three bagpipers and half a dozen drummers played to their enthusiastic audience.
Dancers moved around in waves, following a caller’s instructions. A spacious bar covered one length of the room where revelers stopped for drinks. It was a friendly, loud, raucous good time, just the thing I wanted to send off my Scottish vacation.
We watched the dancers go through the motions of a reel. Women spun lightly on their feet while the men marched around them, a barrage of kilts swinging in time to the drumming music.
Arnav came up to Duncan and me, grinning like he’d already partaken liberally from both the bar and the dance floor. Not a bad way to celebrate being off the clock.
“Have you danced yet, Molly?” he asked.
“Ah, no. I don’t really know how—”
