Page 27 of Highlands Summer Wedding

“You’ll all love it. It’s magical. We could go early so we’re the only ones around, or maybelatelate and try to catch a little magic hour?” said Max.

Caitlin glanced toward the windows. “It’s nearly ten and still daylight. How is that possible?”

Angus reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her engagement ring. “Welcome to Scotland in summer, love.”

“I knew it intellectually, but experiencing it…” She shook her head. “The sun barely sets.”

“And we’re not even as far north as Orkney,” Angus added.

“I’ve always wanted to visit there,” Max said, just as I said the same thing. Our eyes met briefly before the waiter rescued us, arriving with a steaming pot of fondue that filled the air with the sharp tang of cheddar and ale.

Angus dipped a chunk of bread, watched the cheese stretch in glistening strands. “Sweet mother of God.”

Caitlin closed her eyes as she took her first bite. “This is incredible.”

Watching her savor the cheese, I had a sudden thought. “You know, Caitlin, brides are supposed to avoid fitting into dresses and eating cheese in the same week. But you’ve got multiple dresses in different sizes waiting for you…”

Her eyes lit up with understanding. “Which means diet rules don’t apply!”

We flagged down the waiter and ordered a second pot, abandoning all thoughts of main courses.

CHAPTER 12

My alarm went off at 5 a.m., and the sun had already risen. I took a quick shower, dried my hair, then layered up against the morning chill and settled on the deck with my coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. Max’s shower ran in the background—he always took forever.

Across the loch, fishing boats cut white trails through still water, while gulls glided overhead, their cries carrying on the morning breeze. The islands rose in the distance behind a row of houses painted in improbable blues and pinks. The scene was so ridiculously perfect I reached for my phone and started taking photos. When a dragonfly with iridescent wings landed on the railing, I captured it in close-up. I took it as a good omen.

Angus pulled up in his little blue Mini Cooper precisely at half-past eight. Max and I squeezed into the back, navigating around the explosion of white fabric that threatened to swallow us whole—Caitlin had apparently packed every wedding dress in Scotland. The narrow road wound northward toward the Fairy Glen. Our tires hummed against the pavement until Caitlin’s squeal cut through our conversation. Outside the window, a herd of shaggy Highland cattle grazed in the morning light, their massive horns gleaming.

Angus turned to Caitlin, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Think we need a picture?” asked Angus.

Caitlin bounced in her seat. “Definitely!”

“With or without the wedding attire?” Angus eyed the mountain of satin, tulle, and lace in his rearview mirror.

Caitlin shot him a look that sent me into fits of giggles. I hadn’t seen that look since high school, but it was clear they were going to need multiple wardrobe changes for this shoot.

While Caitlin transformed in the backseat, Max and I played lookout for passing cars. Angus used the passenger door as a shield while he traded his flannel and jeans for formal Highland attire. His Prince Charlie jacket settled on his shoulders as he strode toward the meadow. I steadied Caitlin as she emerged from the car, her gown’s delicate fabric contrasting with chunky white Doc Martens. Angus’s tartan sash rested on her shoulder.

A Highland cow stood unperturbed as the bride and groom flanked it for photos, her train billowing in the breeze. Behind our cameras, Max and I exchanged glances. “Pure magic,” I called out, snapping another shot.

We got back into the car and continued north. “Do you want to go straight there to beat the crowds, or do you want to stop at Kilt Rock?” asked Angus.

“Sounds like a new genre of music that you two should create!” I said.

Angus laughed. “Like the Red Hot Chili Pipers?”

“Exactly! That’s a great name for a band. You could do covers, but have bagpipes.”

“Yeah. They already exist. They played up at the New Hampshire Highland Games last year.”

My “oh” deflated in the air between us.

Max studied me. “Disappointed they already exist or excited you came up with an idea that works well?”

I tilted my head. “I guess a little of both. That’s what always seems to happen with my movie ideas.”

“Seems? Not seemed?” asked Max gently.