Page 127 of Scotch on the Rocks

Those perfect minutes were a blur and yet I knew I’d never forget the way Callum looked. Eyes shining with so much love I thought my heart might combust beneath the weight of it. His voice shook around his declaration,nervously confessing he had no clue how a traditional handfasting ceremony was supposed to happen. That this was a moment so perfect, so impossible, he’d never allowed himself to dream of it.

I couldn’t recall the words I’d spoken in return. I knew Callum did. That his brilliant brain had locked away every moment of it. Every breath. Every touch.

It was beautiful and messy and unconventional and so perfectlyus.

We planned to make it legal … eventually. But for now, I adored our little secret. Just as I knew Callum got off on whispering,wife,in public, on the chance someone might overhear.

The following morning I had a little heart tattooed on my ring finger to commemorate the occasion. Callum had gotten his first ever tattoo.Fortanach.Lucky in Gaelic. Right above his heart.

Locked in the memory, we watched Shakespeare and Simon in silence. I didn’t hold out much hope for a friendship. Callum, ever the optimist, insisted it would take a little time.Like it took you to warm up to me, wife,he’d say. Usually while kissing my neck.

I’d always reply,We don’t have a decade, husband.

To be fair to Shakespeare, Simon was kind of an arsehole. Last week he’d nibbled through the toe of my favourite shoe. Callum claimed he was “temporarily acting out” because of the big changes in his life.

I still thought he was an arsehole.

“All ready for today?” Callum’s fingers tracing up and down my arm brought me back to the present.

I exhaled a nervous puff, the meagre breakfast I’d choked down sitting like a stone in my stomach. “I’d rather go back to bed. Let’s say we both came down with a stomach bug.”

“And miss the grand reopening of Ivy House? Absolutely not.” He squeezed my waist then bent, breath hot on my ear as he whispered, “I’ll make you a bargain. Today I get to act like a proud, overemotional husband, watching you soak up every moment of praise you so thoroughly deserve. And in return … I’ll let you tie me to the bedframe.” He licked my pulse and I couldn’t contain my tremble. “Do we have a deal?”

My eyes fell shut, back arching, breasts aching for his hands that remained resolutely at his sides. “Deal.”

Tonight couldn’t come quickly enough.

Callum

I made it three hours.

Three hours of watching my wife – heels in place, black wide-leg trousers that covered her arse like a second skin, my tattoo on her ring finger – from the other side of the room while she blushed and laughed. Flashing that obscene smile as she thanked the villagers who’d come out in droves to support the reopening of Ivy House.

Gossip had spread like wildfire the first few weeks of our relationship, locals staring and whispering behind their coffee cups every time we stopped by Brown’s for breakfast. But even in a wee village, gossip grew boring really quick when the people involved made it clear they didn’t give a fuck. As I’d predicted, Jessica Brown had been thrilled, insisting she’d always known there was something between us. She must have been clairvoyant, because she claimed to know just about everything that happened around here.

Sipping my slightly warm white wine and fighting theurge to drag Juniper upstairs, I decided it should be illegal for anyone to look that good in business attire.

She’d worked so bloody hard for this moment. She deserved for it to be all about her.

Ivy House had shut its doors the first week of January, once the Christmas and Hogmanay rush was over, and undergone a complete renovation thanks to Juniper’s freshly acquired business loan. She’d fought to make every dream in that notebook of hers a reality. From the solar panels to the wedding gazebo in the wild garden, all ready for their first wedding this coming summer.

I was so fucking proud of her.

When she’d cut through the black ribbon that I’d snuck over and tied across the front door this morning, our families had cheered and clapped while happy tears spilled down her cheeks, getting caught in her smile. I’d had to wipe at my own damp eyes.

That’s my wife,I’d thought, so completely in love with her. How I’d gotten this lucky, I would never know, but I wouldn’t take a single moment for granted, wouldn’t waste another day of this life not telling her exactly what I was thinking.

Determined to do just that, I placed my half-drunk wine on the table. “Be right back,” I said to Heather, feeling only mildly guilty that I’d barely heard a word she’d spoken for the past ten minutes, and cut across the room.

Nodding politely to those I passed, I hooked an arm around Juniper’s waist just as Duncan from the hardware store left her to peruse the food table. “Fucking proud of you, superstar.”

“Superstar?” Her head tipped against my shoulder, body turning pliant under my touch. “I think I prefer that to harpy.”

I smiled into her temple. “What about sweetheart?”

“Definitely not. You only call me sweetheart when you’re feeling all soft.”

“I’m always soft for you.”

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