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“Nooooo way!” his mum gasped. She was a die-hard Callanish fan. His dad chuckled as he took a sip of coffee.

“Years ago.” Màiri grinned. “She barely remembers it. I think Donnie’s taken a bit of a shine to her too.” She was already pulling out her phone.

Typical Màiri. Stirring multiple pots.

“Donnie? How does he know her?” his mum asked, eyes flicking to the grill as she took off the bacon. The hunger for gossip was real—but feeding people came first in this house.

And right now, it smelled phenomenal. Ruairidh’s stomach growled in anticipation. Though not as loud as the anxiety gnawing at him. If he wanted to eat in peace, he was going to have to come clean.

“He was creeping on my photos and posting all sorts of comments!” Màiri said, pulling up her phone.

“Oh, let me see your outfits!” his mum said eagerly, coming over with food as Màiri scrolled through.

“Wow! You lot look amazing! How on earth did you manage those costumes and makeup?”

“Well, that was all Vivi and Cathy Ann,” Màiri said. “They were in charge.”

“Is that Vivi?” his mum asked, pointing at the screen.

“Yup,” Màiri confirmed.

“Well, isn’t she a stunner! Oh, Donnie! A Leabhra!” she exclaimed, spotting her son’s comments. “That boy is terrible.”

“What’s he saying now?” his dad asked, smiling, trying and failing to pretend he wasn’t completely invested. Those old sailors could give the Puffins and the airport firemen a run for their money in a gossip-off.

“He’s basically challenged Vivi’s boyfriend to a duel for her hand in marriage,” his mum said, laughing as she tried to keep a straight face.

“That’s my boy,” his dad said, rustling the newspaper and pretending to go back to it.

“Och, he’s definitely your son, Seumas MacLean!”

“I don’t remember you complaining when we were courting,” his dad added with a roguish wink.

“Oh, stop it, you,” his mum said, smiling bashfully as she swatted him with a tea towel.

“Uuuuugh, old people, stop flirting! I’m already ill as it is,” Màiri groaned, biting into a piece of bacon.

“Oooh, is that Jenn?” his mum gasped, peering over again.

“Uh-huh…” Màiri said, far too casually—and shot Ruairidh a loaded look.

“She looks incredible in these,” his mum said, flicking through the photos over Màiri’s shoulder. “Well, she always does—but wow. Don’t you think, Ruairidh?”

Màiri snorted. “He doesn’t just think that—he showed her.”

“What do you mean?” his mum asked, eyes darting between them. His dad glanced up from the paper.

“Your darling son was all over her last night,” Màiri declared, grinning like a cat with feathers in its teeth.

Cat. Out. Bag. Record time.

Cheers, Màiri.

“What?”

“Eh?”

Both parents were now laser-focused on him.