“I’m with Leith,” I tell them, shaking my head. “I can’t help you there. It’s not safe right now, girls, and we want to keep you safe.”
Paisley rolls her eyes. “Here we go again.”
Leith beckons to me from the other end of the table. I gesture for Bryn to have her seat while I walk over to him. Cairstina pulls out a book, and the girls squeal. Soon, Bryn’s talking to them as well.
I reach Leith, and we have a quick, whispered conversation.
“Everything go alright last night?” he asks.
“Aye.” I cast a surreptitious look to Bryn. She’s laughing with Paisley over something, not looking at me. “I can fill you in later but suffice it to say everything’s going just fine.”
“Have you met her father yet?”
I shake my head. “No, and I’m not sure if I’ll need to.”
Leith scowls at the other end of the table. “This wedding’s a problem, Mac. It’s a public event, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with them going. Not sure how to tell the girls not to, not when Fran is at the heart of this, and you know how she's been a friend of theirs for so long."
I think this over. “Aye. Do you want me to go as chaperone?”
He scowls, shaking his head. “Not sure that’s necessary, but if it is…”
His voice trails off.
“When is it?” I ask.
“Next week.”
Bloody hell. Like I have time for something like that…
We both look at the other end of the table where the girls are laughing.
“No way!” Islan says to Bryn. “The very same?”
Bryn shakes her head. “Can hardly believe it myself.”
“Hear what?” I ask.
“The wedding they’re going to. It’s Fran’s.”
“Aye, I know.”
“I cannot believe you were the one that designed those gowns,” Paisley says, shaking her head. “Honest to God, they’re the most gorgeous things I’ve ever laid eyes on!”
Leith snorts and shakes his head as the girls talk about the wedding. He smirks at me. “Looks like they won’t be the only ones going to that wedding, eh?”
Chapter 10
Bryn
Mac’s sisters make it easy to talk to them, and a short while later when his mum returns, we all talk about the wedding, the dresses, and the plans that are happening.
“It’s a bit crazy,” Paisley says. She’s shyer than Islan, will hardly meet my eyes when she talks, but I can tell beneath that shy exterior of hers she’s brilliant and witty.
“Fran met her man online. They only met last week in person for the very first time. Isn’t that mental, girls?”
Their mum, Flora, shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know. When you’re talking to people like me and Bryn’s mum, you hear that we all have our own stories, things like arranged marriages." She smiles sadly, and the mention of an arranged marriage makes my own nerves twitch. It's uncomfortable to even think about the possibility. “So when you talk about meeting blokes online, it doesn’t sound that far-fetched.” She sighs. “I suppose many of us made the marriages work despite the challenges, hmm?”
And for some reason, I feel as if she’s speaking directly to me. Could I make the arranged marriage work, and spare Mac from what I have planned? I don't like the thought of hurting him. I hate the thought of doing anything that would harm him. Furthermore, now that I've met his family, I despise the very thought of doing anything that would turn them against me. It's one thing to think of a nameless, faceless enemy, but another thing to see their actual faces.
This family is nothing like mine. This family… likes each other. They welcomed me in here… well, most of them. I wouldn't say their father gave me a very warm welcome. The women, however, actually stood up for me.
“You say that, Mum,” Islan says, shaking her head. “But arranged marriages are archaic. There's no need for something like that in this day and age, and it's a bloody shame to think that it still happens." She turns to look at me. "What do you think, Bryn?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her truthfully. “I mean, I can see why they’ve worked for so long for our families. But even by saying they worked, we may be talking about two different things, aren't we? It works to keep the peace among the clans. It works to keep… children coming.” I cringe. “It works to make sure that those in leadership positions have the power of family behind them. But when we talk about marriage working, maybe our hopes are still pinned on… something a little different.”
“Aye,” Islan says, her voice hardening. “We are. Something like love. Is it too much to ask for?”
Flora doesn’t respond. Is her own marriage one built on convenience, like my parents’? I don’t say anything about myself. I’m not sure I want to.
I butter a scone and drink the scalding tea.