A walk was exactly what I needed after sleeping for what felt like an eternity. The boutique shops and cafés lining the streets glow through their windows, spilling light onto the cobblestones making everything feel magical.
We pause at a few shop windows, looking at the displays of handwoven scarves, souvenirs, trinkets, and vintage books. I make a mental note to come back tomorrow, when we can actually go inside.
As we continue down the sidewalk, a couple with a fluffy brown dog turns onto our path. Before I can stop myself, I drop down to pet it, letting my fingers sink into its thick coat. The dog’s tail wags so enthusiastically it’s a wonder it doesn’t lift off the ground.
Rachel chuckles, crossing her arms. “And there it is. You lasted, what? Twelve seconds before finding a dog?”
The couple laughs, and before we know it, we’re deep in conversation. They offer food recommendations, their favorite local spots, and a place calledThe Realm.
“You have to go,” the woman insists. “Your trip will be tragically incomplete if you don’t.”
Rachel and I exchange a look, mentally agreeing to add it to our ever-growing list.
With one last round of goodbyes, we part ways with the couple. Their dog’s tail wags happily as they disappear into the night. The air feels a little cooler now and the distant sound of laughter drifts from the nearby cafés.
Rachel loops her arm through mine again, sighing. “I’ve missed this. Walking around, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. This is going to be so fun!”
Before this trip, we hadn’t seen each other in months. Which is practically an eternity for us. Most of our walk is spent catching up and filling in the gaps that texts and FaceTime never quite covered.
I tell her about the massive work project that’s been consuming my life, and her eyes widen when I casually mention the potential client I’m supposed to meet here.
“In Scotland?” she asks, intrigued. “Workfollowedyou across the Atlantic?”
I shrug, smiling. “Apparently, my charm is in high demand.”
Rachel laughs, squeezing her arm tighter. “Itshouldbe. You’re a badass.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t really think we need a PR guy, but what do I know?”
The truth is, I’ve never met him in person. I don't even know what he looks like. Our conversations have been strictly business. Emails, phone calls, endless back-and-forth. Now, we finally have a face-to-face meeting lined up to finalize everything.
Rachel shifts the conversation to her own work drama and the latest mess with Bobby. I nod along, doing my best to just listen. My opinions sit sharp on the tip of my tongue, all my unfiltered thoughts that I shove deep down before they escape. She doesn’t need a lecture. Not tonight.
We turn the corner, and she points ahead. “I think that’s it… and it already looks packed.”
I take in the sight and nod.I guess that's a good sign.
The royal blue trim against the weathered brick makes the pub stand out, even though it’s tucked snugly between neighboring buildings. It has thatoldcharmto it, and it’s clearly well-loved, like everything else in this town. Even the oldest spots look like they’ve been lovingly preserved.
Outside, clusters of people gather at the small iron tables with their drinks in their hands. Their conversations blend into a pleasant hum, while others lean against the wooden railing. Laughter spills into the air, sounding like the kind of night that makes you want to stay just a little longer.
What really makes me fall in love, though, are the lush green ferns hanging above the carved wooden sign. They sway lightly in the breeze and it's a contrast to the deep blues and dark wood. I already know I’m going to love this place.
I step through the front door and that's the only moment I almost regret choosing this place. Almost. The space is smaller than expected, and packed. The murmur of voices rolls like waves, filling every inch. The clinking glasses, the flickering candlelight on wooden tables, the way the low hum of music threads itself between conversations. All of it. It's amazing.
I let out a slow breath, letting it all sink in.
Despite the crowd, there’s a warmth here, a welcoming kind of chaos. It smells like a mix of beer, musk, and a surprising hint of mint. Which is a random yet fitting addition. Somehow the scent suits this place perfectly.
My eyes flick around, unsure where to land first. To the right, a massive bar stretches along the entire side of the room. On the opposite side, wooden tables are packed with people. In the center, whiskey barrels that have been repurposed as tables add the perfect touch of rustic charm. It’s exactly the kind of detail you’d hope for in a pub like this.
In the farthest corner, a heated game of darts is underway, complete with gritted teeth, cocky grins, and an explosion of shouts. Just to the left of that, an open space sits almost forgotten, clearly meant for dancing. Which is exactly what we needed.
There’s something oddly comforting about this place. It feels familiar, like we’ve stumbled into the perfect little hideaway without even trying.
I look at Rachel, suspicion creeping in, noting the very distinct absence of food. “Why do I get the feeling you knew this place didn’t have food?”
She shrugs, completely unbothered, and tugs me further into the pub. “Come on, let’s go! Besides, you atetonsof snacks. You’ll be fine. Who needs dinner when you can have a drink?”
