“You were saying?” I ask.
He hesitates… then shakes his head.
“Nothing important.”
Of course.
We head out.
Through the window, I catch sight of Hamish and Rosita curled together in their pen—peaceful, content.
“Look at them,” Alistair murmurs. “So calm.”
“They don’t have family expectations,” I say quietly.
“Or contracts,” he adds.
Silence.
“Do you think they even know they’re supposed to be enemies?” I ask.
“I think sheep are smarter than we are about some things,” he says. “They don’t cling to pointless grudges.”
“Or irrational fears.”
Our eyes meet.
Something shifts.
“Keira! Alistair! Photo!” Lachlan yells.
“We should go,” he says.
“We should,” I agree.
Neither of us moves.
Until Maggie calls again.
We join the group. I end up beside him, his arm around my waist.
“Smile!” Duncan calls.
I do.
But my mind drifts—to Hamish and Rosita… to Archibald and Elspeth… to all these stories of rivalry turning into something more.
And for the first time… I let myself wonder if our arrangement could become something real.
It’s terrifying.
And yet, standing here in his arms, I can’t help thinking?—
Maybe we’re living our own romantic comedy.
And everyone knows how those end.
The scariest part?
