It's Nessa who is at the door, and to be honest, her appearance is actually my fault as I'd asked her to help me arrange a surprise for Owen. Yes, Mirren Shepherd, hater of all things surprising, is trying to orchestrate a surprise of her own. Miracles do happen.
"Dinner is booked for seven pm," she tells me, her gaze flicking between me and Owen in our towels. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything?" She adds, brown eyes sparkling wickedly.
Oh, of course not, just me about to ask what could possibly be the most important question of my life!
By the time Nessa leaves, it feels like the moment has passed, and my courage has nipped back inside. I guess I'll try again later. In the meantime, I need to get ready for dinner.
I brought one extra-nice dress on holiday just in case - a silky dark blue wrap dress, mid-length with a slit up one side. I've never actually had a chance to wear it before, so tonight seems like the perfect occasion to christen it. It brings the blue out in my eyes and contrasts well with the colours in my hair. I team it with turquoise sandals and bold gold jewellery, adding a jewelled clip to one side of my hair. I'm probably completely overdressed, but I'm no longer pretending that the effort isn't mostly for Owen's benefit.
And when I emerge from the bathroom after doing my make-up, the expression on his face makes it all worth it. "Do we have to go to dinner?" He asks huskily, the expression on his handsome face darkening. He scrubs a hand across his stubble, bronze gaze intense as he takes me in. "I'm suddenly hungry in a very different way. One that I doubt the restaurant would approve of."
Mission accomplished.
I laugh and walk towards him, relishing the way his eyes are tracking the movement of my hips. "We've got plenty of time for that later," I say, looping an arm around his neck and pulling him in for a teasing kiss. I want to drive him crazy tonight. "In the meantime, I actually do need to eat. Those scones feel like a long time ago now."
"Fair enough," he sighs, reluctance clear in his tone. "I guess I can try to resist you for a few more hours." He reaches for my hand, and we head towards the restaurant. I'm hoping Nessa has managed to pull this off like we discussed. We're at the mercy of the hotel staff, though.
But when I mention my name at the door, the waiter's face lights up. "Ah, your table is all ready for you. Come right this way."
"Wait - where are we going?" Owen asks in confusion as we're taken back outside and down a small dirt path.
This is a very good sign.
There's a lone table and two chairs set up down at the edge of the loch, a bottle of prosecco already waiting in an ice bucket. It's the perfect location to have dinner on a special birthday - right beside the water, in a secluded spot encircled by mountains, the June sun still high in the true blue sky.
(Here's hoping there won't be too many midges, though. They're the scourge of a Scottish summer.)
"What is this?" Owen asks, stopping short as he takes in the sight. "Did you do this?"
"I spotted this little beach when I went for that walk with Nessa earlier and thought it would be a lovely spot for dinner," I tell him, a little embarrassed now. I'm not used to making gestures like this. "She sorted it with the hotel for me. Do you like it?"
I can't quite decipher the look on his face as he presses his lips together tightly and looks out at the view. "No one has ever done anything like this for me before," he says finally, his voice cracking slightly. He looks over at me then, and his eyes are soft. "I love it, Mirren."
We sink down into the chairs, pick up our menus. I'm suddenly reminded of our first "date" earlier in the week. How far we've come in just a few days.
How far I've fallen.
I watch him now, over the top of my menu. He's wearing that crisp white shirt he wore the first night of our trip, and I smile to myself as I remember him saying earlier that he'd packed all his best clothes in advance of seeing me again. That's so fucking precious that it makes me love him even more. It's already hard to believe I hadn't seen his face for nearly ten years because it already feels almost as familiar to me again as my own.
I can't let him go; I know this for certain now. I will do whatever it takes to make this work.
"You okay?" He asks, catching me staring. I nod, feeling an embarrassed flush staining my cheeks.
"I'm fine. I'm just trying to work out what to have."
"Might want to keep your eyes on the menu then," he suggests with a knowing wink. I redden further.
I decide on the mackerel pate with sourdough bread, and Owen opts for the haggis spring rolls. Everything tastes fresh and delicious, somehow intensified by the clear air and peacefulness surrounding us. The waiter gives us plenty of privacy, so it feels like it's just the two of us in our own magical little world. Part of me wishes we could just stay like this forever.
It would certainly make life easier.
"Can I ask you something?" Owen says hesitantly, when we're nearly finished our mains - sausage and mash for me, beer battered fish and chips for him. I look up at him questioningly.
"You mentioned something before about your ex - Donnie? - being a bad rebound decision. It's been playing on my mind a bit. Did you . . . end up with him because of my actions?"
"A little bit, I guess," I reply awkwardly. "But who's to say for sure? I was in a bit of a vulnerable place at that point, though, and I probably could have made better decisions."
"But he . . ." Owen takes a deep breath. "He wasn't a good boyfriend, was he?"
"No," I shake my head. "Well, it seemed like he was . . . at first. Maybe he was then. But I think he always had insecurities, and it brought out a dark side of him. He didn't physically hurt me, ever, but he ate away at my confidence over the years. It was . . . A difficult time."
His eyes crease up in a wince. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'm sorry you went through that. And I'm sorry if I did have any part in pushing you towards him." He sighs. "If I'd known you weren't happy in your relationship, maybe I could have tried harder to find you, to reach out to you. But I thought you'd found someone far better than me; someone you deserved."
"But how were you meant to know?" I point out. "I didn't know myself for a long time! Most of my family and friends didn't know. It's just - it is what it is. It's in the past, where I want to keep it and forget it." I reach over and grab his hands. "And it's not your fault. We really have no way of knowing if things would have worked out between me and you back then, had you came back as planned." I can't help but smile. "We might have even had a shitty first date for all we know."
"Yeah, I might have gotten way too drunk from nerves and fallen into a bush," Owen laughs. "Sorry, that actually did happen to me on a date once." He blushes.
"I was thinking it was an oddly specific example," I snigger. "So . . . Since you brought up exes, and then brought up dates . . . What about you? You've been pretty quiet about your relationship history up until now."
He shrugs, looking embarrassed. "Honestly, I've not really got much of a 'history' to even speak of. A couple of relationships where we ended in a matter of months and remained on good terms. A few first dates that didn't go anywhere. I've not been that lucky in that department. I've often thought it might be karma because of what had happened with you, actually." He grins, and my world lights up in HD. "Or, the nicer alternative is that you were the only girl I could really imagine being with."
And my heart decides to go on another adventure, corkscrewing in my chest.
"I think I prefer that option," I say softly. I realise we're still holding hands. And I have no desire to let go. Ever.
"Wanna get out of here?" He suggests, eyes darkening once more.
"I thought you'd never ask."
Watched by the waiter, who is smiling fondly as if he knows us personally and thoroughly endorses whatever we want to do next (bit weird, actually!), we wind our way back up to our room. Anticipation looms in the air . . . It feels like our first time all over again. He can't stop touching me as if checking to make sure I'm still there.
"Did you just unclasp my bra?" I ask, as I'm trying to open the door. His laugh is wicked in my ear.
"Maybe." Delighted shivers skitter all the way down my spine as his tone turns teasingly threatening. "And I'm about to pull on this tie, which I'm assuming will unwrap your dress, so you might want to get a move on with that key . . . before you end up half-naked in this corridor."
Jesus. We practically fall through the door, stumbling our way blindly to the bed, lips fusing together as we move. Clothes tossed to the side, breathing uneven, sparks flying. Our bodies press together tightly as we kiss, yet I feel like we can't seem to get close enough.
But then he's inside me, moving against me, and suddenly, that's no longer a problem. Somehow, he's a part of me now: the piece that was missing all along. We can throw away that "fuck my life" jigsaw, folks: I'm solving a new puzzle and it's so much more satisfying.
He lifts his hips slightly away and I nearly protest at the loss of contact until I realise he's taking the opportunity to slide a hand between us, anticipating exactly where I need to be touched the most. He moves a finger against me as he thrusts into me, and once again, I feel myself coming undone.
"Mirren, fuck," he bites out as we both ride the crest of a wave that threatens to ultimately drown us both. We cling to one another like life buoys until the wave recedes. All I can hear are our hearts beating hard, our breath coming fast. I don't know if I've ever felt more fucking alive than I do in this moment.
And it emerges, unprompted. Lying there, in nothing but my sandals - which neither of us thought or remembered to remove - and jewellery, hair sweaty against the pillow. Somehow feeling the most and least sexy I've ever felt. This is the moment when I look straight into Owen's eyes and I say those words I've been scared to say.
"I love you."
It's freeing, somehow. And nowhere near as frightening as I thought it might be.
I'm fairly sure that the sheer brightness of his smile could solve the world's worst power cut. His eyes glow almost amber in the dimness of the room. "I think I already knew that, somehow," he says, thumb lightly brushing my bottom lip before he moves in for another kiss. "I love you too, Mirren," he murmurs against my mouth.
And the last piece of that new puzzle finally slips into place.
She said it, folks! 👏
As it stands, I think I'm still on course to get the story finished by the end of the month as planned. I've actually got the very end part mostly written (inspiration just struck me about how I wanted to finish it), but I have two chapters left to write to get me to that place. So wish me luck!
I hope you're enjoying the story. Please like, comment, and share if you are! 💜