Page 75 of The Love Leap

“But... our parents... Lila, your brother,” I stutter out, wishing for this moment to unfurl naturally but feeling torn.

Cal gently cups my face with his hands, his touch steadying the thoughts swirling in my mind. His gaze is filled with warmth and reassurance.

“We’ve a whole family back home in modern-dayAven Valley, no question about it. But we cannae get to them yet. And take a look around ye, love. We’ve got ourselves a clan right here.”

I let my gaze sweep over the warm faces of our friends and beam back at them. He’s absolutely right. They’ve all become my family.

“Rest easy about my folks. They’re safe at the farm; I can feel it in my bones, Mills, and I cannae go wrong when I trust my instincts. As for yours, Lila, Cam, they won’t have an inkling that we’ve skipped a beat in time,” he adds softly, assuring no one else can hear our conversation.

At his words, I find myself frozen in place, my mind churning over the reality of our situation. We’re stuck here until the next full moon; there’s no way around it. We’ve been pretending to be married for a month already! And I’m totally, unapologetically in love with this man.

“Besides,” Cal seems to complete my thoughts, an impish sparkle lighting his eyes as his thumb grazes my hand, “I’m eager to call ye my wife in every timeline—in every sense of that word—if ye get what I mean?”

His soft, seductive words linger in the air, heavy and loaded with possibilities. A champagne glass of joy bubbles inside me as images of our potential future together dance like a film in my mind.

I pictureus bundled up in ridiculously oversized sweaters, parked on the weather-beaten bench outside our adorable cottage. We’ll be nursing steaming mugs of coffee, its robust aroma tangling with the crisp morning air. The dawn sun will paint the dew-kissed flowers with a golden hue as we sit together without needing words.

Oh, and our stolen kisses! They’ll pop up in the most unexpected corners—among pots and pans in his kitchen or hidden under piles of laundry. A quick smooch while pairing socks, a lingering one when we think we’re alone—ordinary chores turning into secret dates.

In this vivid mental movie of mine, kids also make a cameo—two or three, maybe? We’ll pile them into our family wagon, their infectious chatter filling every nook as we navigate through twisting lanes to Aven Valley’s local sports field. I can almost hear their triumphant shouts echoing around me.

Our weekends will be spent at Cameron’s pub, The Tipsy Trow, where the sign is in its rightful place outside, and laughter is still as abundant as the whisky flow.

Cozied up in our favorite corner booth, we’ll swap stories and jokes with friends who feel more like family, their company providing a warmth that beats even the coziest fireplace.

When night falls and moonlight dances on Moray Firth’s tranquil waters, we’ll sneak away forimpromptu skinny dips. The shock of frosty water against our skin, coupled with our laughter echoing through the silent night, will spark a rush of freedom in us like nothing else.

This cozy domestic life isn’t frightening; it’s tantalizingly within reach.

It won’t be perfect; oh no, it’ll be messy and complicated and sometimes feel next to impossible. But I know, more than anything, that it’s a life bursting with love and laughter, ripe for the taking. And I’m eager to dive right in with Cal.

I riseonto my toes and meet his lips in a kiss that feels like the culmination of every adventure we’ve shared.

“Let’s do it,” I murmur against his lips. “Let’s get handfasted today.”

As the villagers erupt into more cheers and shower us with flower petals, we’re swept up by a joyful tide of friends and family. The air buzzes with laughter and a chorus of “Slàinte!”—the Highland call for health and good fortune—that fills the tavern.

Cal and I are caught in this vibrant whirlpool, our hands glued together as everyone jockeys for a spot to offer their well wishes. Fi’s infectious grin leads the pack, and she’s the first to wrap us both in a bear hug.

Then, just as we’re catching our breath, Cal is momentarily surrounded by the guys, their hearty slaps on his back so enthusiastic they nearly topple him. Cal swivels to Alistair, a hint of concern furrowing his brow.

“Is there a chance of another attack? Should we be on guard?” he asks, his voice low but urgent.

Alistair strokes his beard before responding. “Well, ye understand, it cannae be our typical grand spectacle,” he begins, his voice laced with understanding, “but given the recent clan skirmishes, we must remain vigilant. A quaint handfasting ceremony here in the tavern should suffice, as it will allow us to keep a watchful eye. We do no need to make a spectacle around town or march to the church. We’ll stand guard right here while ye make yer vows official. Why delay when love is in the air, aye?”

As more allies join in the applause, Fi, her sister Elspeth, and a lively group of women eagerly take me aside, their enthusiasm contagious.

“Oh me goodness, Mills! We’ve got so much to do!” Fi exclaims, her eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “We need to prepare ye for yer bridal Foot Washing Ceremony, gather some flowers, and find the perfect dress! But dinnae worry about a thing; we’ll have ye all set in no time.”

Her words spill out like a waterfall, and suddenly, I’m whisked away into the tavern’s kitchen—a domainthat reeks more of boiled innards and fermented brew than romance. But hey, Aven Valley Charm would probably sell well as a niche perfume.

While the men contemplate constructing an altar in the tavern and women chatter about local flora, Fi and Elspeth lead a small group of village ladies in converting the kitchen into something that looks like it’s been ripped straight from the pages ofZen Living Monthly.

Okay, so the quinoa dispenser and yoga mat storage are missing. But it’s close!

Bowls filled with steaming water are lined up like soldiers. The rising steam twirls seductively in the air. Dried lavender and aromatic herbs hang from the rafters.

“Welcome to your Foot Washing!” Fi announces with a grin. I chuckle as she and Elspeth perch me onto an improvised throne—basically just a burlap sack flung over a robust wooden chair. With my feet hovering just above the floorboards, Fi and her brigade roll up their sleeves, gearing up to pamper me as if I’m some sort of Early Modern era princess.

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