“Okay,” I whispered, shoving the cue cards into his hands. He didn’t need me.
Weston pressed one more fleeting kiss to my hairline, then walked out on stage, his perfect smile in place as he unveiled the plaque with Pete and Ellen’s likeness etched into the surface. The plaque that would forever be mounted in the community center. Unease stirred inside me. I swallowed down the discomfort as Weston’s words reached me: “I am beyond proud that my wife and I are carrying on the tradition of community and togetherness that meant so much to my grandparents.”
I smiled and waved at the appropriate moments counting the seconds until he finished.
“I want to thank all the wonderfully talented and hardworking community members who made this festival possible. And most of all, I’d like to dedicate today to Grandad Pete,” Weston continued. “He showed me how to be the kind of man I want to be. The kind who shows up for his community and cares for his neighbors. So raise…whatever you have!”
The crowd laughed.
“Your Scotch eggs or your espresso, and join me in toasting Pete Kincaid, a man who is sorely missed, today most of all.”
The crowd cheered. Applause echoed off the buildings.
And then, thank God, it was over.
Weston waved, walked across the stage, and took my hand, linking our fingers like we were the most perfect couple in the world. When we reached the sidewalk, he turned to me, taking both my hands in his. “About before?—”
“Not here,” I said quickly. “Not now.” This was a private conversation.
A hand fell to my shoulder. “Oh, love, you’re so pale.”
It was Jo.
“Why don’t you go home and rest,” she said.
My God! If she didn’t stop popping up every two seconds, I was going to scream. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Really.” I lifted my clipboard. “There’s still so much to oversee.” There were more food tastings and competitions, and we hadn’t even had the kilted dash yet. “Plus, someone needs to make sure the gin tasting doesn’t get out of hand.”
Jo plucked the clipboard from my hand. “The committee and I can take care of all that.”
“I don’t think?—”
“What do I look like, a lumpy, old pudding? I’ve wrangled people in my day,” Jo said, hand on her hip. “And now I’m insisting that you go home.” She shoved me into Weston’s arms. “And I’m insisting that you take her.”
“You’re sure?” Weston asked, sounding uncertain himself.
“It’s nearly done anyway, and the committee will handle everything that’s left.” Jo waved us on. “That’s why we have a committee. And you two deserve a break. You did so well, my dears.”
I glanced up at Weston, my insides twisting again as he took my hand, leading me to the car.
We drove back to Lochbrae in silence. It was so quiet we could both hear the clawing sound of my stomach growling. A few times it seemed like Weston might say something, but I turnedto the window, staring out at the gray clouds that swirled over the sea, and he stayed quiet all the way back to the house.
“I don’t suppose Agnes will return until later tonight,” Weston said as we stepped out of the car in front of the castle ten minutes later and headed for the front doors. “She dotes on Kenna any time she’s around. Oh, that’s Alistair’s?—”
“Daughter,” I said, voice thick. “I remember. I spotted them while I was making the rounds. She’s cute.”
“You should hear the adorable way she says Unca Weston,” he said as we walked through the door, pausing in the front hall. Awkwardness flooded in like high tide. He looked down at me. “If you’re hungry, I could probably throw something together for you.”
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Your stomach was growling in the car,” he pointed out. “How about some tea to start? Even I can’t mess that up.”
I gave him a watery smile, biting my lip and shaking my head.
“Lena—”
“Can we sit down?”
“Of course.” He took my hand and led me to the couch in the library. It was the comfiest one in the entire castle, by far, and as I sank into his side, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, I swallowed hard. I didn’t know where to start, but as Weston pressed his lips to my temple, the pressure to say something was so intense that I blurted, “I’m not pregnant!”
