Chapter 1
Emerald’s Master List of Things to Do Before the Wedding:
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Find dress of dreams. The dress. The One Dress to Rule Them All. The dress that will change my life, and make me look like a redheaded Grace Kelly, marrying her real life prince.
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Or do I want to go a bit more sleek and understated, like Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, say?
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Should probably figure that out first, given that whichever identity I choose is going to be the one I’m stuck with in the wedding photos for the rest of my life. Like my ghost outfit, basically.
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Hair. Find way to tame it. Or maybe just buy a wig?
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No. Knowing my luck, it would fall off as I walked down the aisle. Definitely no wig, then; just real hair, only a totally different, and 100% better version of it. This must be possible, surely?
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Put together list of celebrity hairdressers based in the Scottish Highlands. Probably a very short list, obviously, but maybe Brian could help? He seems to know a surprising amount about hair, for some reason?
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Big wedding involving the entire village, or small, intimate affair with just closest family and friends?
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Should I invite Lexie, or will she just set me on fire again?
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Ask Frankie to be Maid of Honor.
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Get engaged.
I finish writing my list, then put two red lines under item number ten: which should really be number one, obviously. Because that’s the biggie, really, isn’t it? The one thing that everything else hangs on. Can’t have the perfect wedding without the perfect proposal first, can you? And, honestly, I’d settle for an imperfect proposal, too, at this point. I’m not fussy. I know Jack isn’t the type to go for big, showy displays of affection, and I’m fine with that; I’m not either.
I just… I just really hope that’s the only reason he hasn’t asked me yet, is all. Because when he asked me to move in with him a few months ago, everyone said an engagement would be the next thing. Shona McLaren even put up a post on her Instagram, speculating about what kind of ring he’d get me, and how long it would take me to lose it.
(Which wasn’t fair, really: I don’t lose things that often. I mean, okay, there was that time I left my wallet on the train to Inverness, and had to do a 200 mile round-trip to get it back. And when my best friend Frankie and I went to Edinburgh for her birthday last month, we ended up spending almost three hours looking for the car, because I’d forgotten where I’d parked it. But those things could happen to anyone, Shona. My days of having accidents are far behind me, I swear. And so are my days of borrowing Jack’s car, apparently, but that’s beside the point.)
But then weeks went by, and there was no proposal — much to the disappointment of my mum, who’s already picked out a hat, and who looks pointedly at my ring finger every time I see her. And also to the disappointment of me, really. Because I may not have the perfect hair, or the perfect figure (That’s another thing I need to add to my pre-wedding list, actually: join the gym…), but I do have the perfect man. And as much as I know I’m a strong, independent woman, who doesn’t need a ring on her finger to be happy (No, seriously, I am…) the fact remains that I’d still like one. Any one. Even the ring pull from a can of Irn Bru would do.
The thing is, it’s not about rings at all, is it? No, it’s about me and Jack, and how I want us to be together forever. And it’s about how, right now, I can’t seem to let myself believe that’s actually going to happen. Why would it? Why would Jack Buchanan, local Laird, who could have any woman he wanted, settle for me: Emerald Taylor — local laughing-stock, and all-round disaster?
But that was in the past, though. Like I said, I don’t have accidents any more. It’s been years — okay, weeks — since anyone laughed at me in a mean way. And ever since Jack told me he had a surprise for me, and that today was the day I’d finally get to see it, I haven’t been able to stop myself wondering if this might be It. The thing I’ve been waiting for, almost since the moment we got together. The thing that will make me believe that he’s not just been pretending to like me, as part of some weird dare or something, but that he actually loves me, and he’s going to be mine forever. Even if I do keep losing his car.
“Emerald? Are you in here?”
As if on cue, Jack’s head appears around the door. I’m sitting at the desk in his study, feeling horribly out of place among all the polished wood surfaces and meticulously tidied bookshelves, and I jump guiltily as the door opens, even though I know I have every right to be here.
I live here now. I haven’t just snuck in, pretending to be a cleaner. I’m not here under any kind of false pretenses. I’m Jack’s girlfriend. His “bidie-in”, as Mum calls it. And I swear to God, I will never get used to saying that. And not just the weird Scottish slang bit either: all of it.
“You ready?”
Jack comes into the room, his dark hair rumpled, as if he’s been running his hands through it just a few seconds earlier. Which he probably has, actually: it’s what he does when he’s nervous or excited, and, right now, he looks the perfect mixture of both.
He also looks perfect in general. It’s been two years, but he’s still the most handsome man I’ve met in real life; and I once met Jett Carter, Hollywood heartthrob, and boyfriend of my best frienemy, Lexie, so I know what I’m talking about for once.
“Yup. Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, snapping my notebook shut before he can see what I’ve written inside it. “Where did you say we were going again? It’s just, I wasn’t sure if I’d need to get dressed up for it, or—”
“I didn’t say,” Jack interrupts, grinning. “It’s a surprise, remember? And you look perfect for it. Amazing, in fact. You always look amazing to me, though.”
He comes forward and drops a feather-light kiss on my lips, which makes me smile, even though I’m not totally convinced by his reassurance. I have form for always wearing the wrong thing. And although it’s kind of Jack to pretend not to remember the time I went hiking in a cocktail dress, the fact that photos of it still keep popping up on the village Facebook group to this day tells me he’s probably the only one.
I put the notebook back on the desk, making sure I align it perfectly with the edge of the table before I stand up, not wanting to ruin the perfection of the room with my natural tendency towards chaos.
I run a tight ship, you know.
I frown to myself. That’s something my ex-boyfriend, Ben, used to say. (And he did run a tight ship, too, in spite of what I know he considered to be my best efforts to capsize it.) But I haven’t thought about Ben in years now; not since Jack and I got together, in fact. Why is his voice suddenly back in my head, right at the moment everything’s finally going well for me?
Not now, Ben. Not now…
“Come on, then,” Jack says, pulling me to my feet, completely oblivious to the sudden reappearance of my most significant ex in my mind. “I’m so excited about this, Emerald. I just can’t wait to show you. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now.”
He grins again, looking adorably rumpled and boyish, and my stomach lurches with sudden excitement.
Oh my God, he really is going to do it. I wish I’d worn something else now. What if he’s hired a photographer to capture the magic moment? Or gathered all of our friends and family to witness the joy of our union? I wonder if I have time to go and change? I wonder if—
“Emerald.”
Jack’s looking at me as if he can read my mind. Which would be super-awkward, especially after all that stuff about my stupid outfit, so I smile brightly as I follow him out to the car, doing my best impression of a totally normal person.
Who might just be about to get engaged to the love of her life.
I think I’m going to throw up with excitement.
The butterflies in my stomach, however, settle down as Jack drives us out of the village and into the hills above it, and they roll over and die altogether when the car comes to a stop in front of a set of unremarkable metal gates hidden among the trees, which I’d have driven past without even noticing them.
Why would he bring me up here if he was going to propose to me? Why this hill in particular? If he’d taken me up Westward Tor, say, that would have made sense, because Jack once had to rescue me from the top of it, during a storm. (Not since then, though. Because that would be exactly the kind of “accident” I do not have. Nuh-uh.)
This hill, however, has no special meaning to either of us, as far as I’m aware; and although the view is pretty, it’s the same view you get from more or less everywhere around here, so it’s not like it’s particularly special, either. And neither, it has to be said, is the massive cow pat I step in as soon as I try to get out of the car.
Well done, Emerald. That’ll definitely add to the romance of the moment. If there’s even going to be a romantic moment, that is; which seems increasingly unlikely, somehow.
Jack, however, just smiles mysteriously as he unlocks the chain that’s holding the double gates closed, before taking my hand and leading me through them, onto the muddy track beyond. I hold onto him tightly, hoping desperately that he can’t smell the cow dung on my shoes as we walk a short distance through the forest, dodging puddles in the churned up ground as we go.
“Sorry about the mess,” Jack says as I step gingerly over what looks like the imprint of a tractor tire, which has left deep grooves in the soil. “There’s been a lot of traffic coming and going over the last few weeks. The road will be paved soon, though.”
I look up at him confused.
Traffic? Up here in the hills? What road will be paved soon? And what on earth does any of this have to do with me and the totally imaginary engagement I’ve been planning in my head ever since he told me about this so-called ‘surprise’ of his?
“I don’t understand,” I say, yelping as I land in an unexpectedly deep puddle and send mud splattering all over the legs of my jeans. “Where are you taking me, Jack? What’s going on?”
“Just wait,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Just a few more steps, and then you’ll see it.”
We emerge from the trees into a cleared area near the top of the hill. From here, we can see all the way back down to the village and the sea beyond it, which sparkles in the sun — a bit like the diamond I’m slowly losing hope is tucked inside Jack’s pocket. But that’s not what I’m looking at. Because, right in front of me, there’s a huge sign; one of those rustic, wooden ones, that are supposed to look like they’re hundreds of years old, but which actually cost a small fortune to commission from a very modern workshop.
On the sign is what looks like a map — a small one, showing a winding road leading to what looks to be around ten little houses — and above the map is my name. Or half of my name, anyway.
EMERALD VIEW, it says, in beautifully carved capital letters. WELCOME.
I turn around to look at Jack, still not understanding what, exactly, I’m supposed to be seeing here, but knowing for sure that it’s definitely not an engagement ring.
“You’ve… had my name put on a sign?” I say stupidly, quickly trying to arrange my face into the expression of gratitude and excitement that he’s clearly expecting from me. “You bought me a sign?”
“Not just a sign,” Jack replies, his smile so wide now that his dimples are out in full force. “It’s way more than that, Emerald. Take a look behind it.”
I step obediently to the right, so I can see behind the giant slab of wood, which has been blocking most of the view.
It’s… a hill. With, okay, a couple of tractors, and some kind of excavator huddled together a little way down it, but still… just a hill. Quite a muddy one, too. And unless Jack’s planning to use the machinery in front of us to literally dig a diamond right out of the ground for me — which is so unlikely that not even I can be bothered trying to imagine it — I can feel my dreams of the perfect proposal slipping sadly away.
“I’m still not seeing it,” I say, peering down the hill to where the sea glitters beyond it, and trying to surreptitiously wipe my feet on the grass to get rid of the cow pat. “You’re going to have to help me out here.”
“You’re not seeing it, because it’s not here yet,” says Jack, looping his arms around my waist from behind me and resting his chin on my shoulder. “But one day soon, this is going to be the site of the most exclusive log cabin community in the Highlands.”
There’s a rustle of paper as he pulls something out of his pocket, which definitely doesn’t sound like a ring box.
“Here, take a look at this,” he says, letting me go and thrusting a sheaf of papers into my face. I smile weakly as I take them and start flicking through a set of photocopied pictures of log cabins, all with their own hot tubs beside them. They do look nice, I have to admit. Swanky. Luxurious, even. But… a log cabin community? That’s my big surprise?
At least I didn’t waste one of my better outfits on it.
“This… this looks fantastic, Jack,” I say, handing the papers back to him. “I still don’t quite understand, though. You’re going to rent these out? Like holiday lets?”
“That’s the basic idea,” he says, his face alight with excitement as he scans the pages, which I can already tell are very familiar to him. “But it’s so much more than that, too. It’s an Eco-community, Emerald. Sustainable living, but with a luxury twist. Everything here will be the highest quality imaginable, sourced right here in the Highlands.”
He goes on for a bit, talking about how he’s been working with a team of developers for months now, and as I listen, I try my best to summon up some gratitude for all of this.
It’s not every day a girl gets given an entire eco-living community after all. Or a — I take one of the pages back from him to scan it — “harmonious blend of sophisticated design and rustic allure” in the form of a luxury log cabin, with space to sleep 6.
So that’s… awesome.
It seems the road to happiness is still very much under construction. Quite literally, if this place is anything to go by.
“And all this is for me?” I ask, trying not to think about how I came here hoping to be proposed to, but now I’m just standing in a muddy field, with shit on my shoes. “Do you want me to help run it? Is that why you brought me here?”
“Well, no. I mean, it’s not just for you,” Jack says, his brow furrowing slightly. “It’s for us, Emerald. It’s our future.”
I nod uncertainly. I personally hadn’t imagined my future in a log cabin. Not even one with an eco-friendly handmade wooden hot tub and wraparound deck.
“This was my grandfather’s dream,” Jack is saying now, placing his hand reverently on the wooden sign. “And we’re going to make it a reality.”
“Your grandfather dreamed of hot tubs?” I ask, surprised. “I thought his dream was to start a distillery? I thought that was why you started The 39? To pay homage to his memory by making the whisky he didn’t live to see?”
“It was,” Jack says, his eyes shining as he turned to face me. “It was his dream; and it became mine, too. But he also wanted to build a community here in the Highlands; to give people a reason to stay, rather than always setting their sights on somewhere new. And Emerald View can be that. It can be all of that. Or that’s the plan, anyway. Just think of the visitors it’ll bring to the area; the jobs, the opportunities. Something like this could really put Heather Bay on the map.”
I nod again. I’m not totally sure how a bunch of Airbnb log cabins is going to stop people leaving the Highlands, really. And Heather Bay was well and truly put on the map last year when Jett Carter came to town with Lexie, and the world’s paparazzi decided to follow them. Thankfully Shona’s campaign to rename the town Heather Slay was defeated by a narrow margin, but, even so, I’m not sure the town really needs any more tourists.
(Also, I’d never admit it to anyone other than Frankie, but if I’m totally honest, I’m getting a bit sick of Jack’s grandad, and his dreams which must be fulfilled at all cost. The distillery was one thing, sure, and I know how much it meant to Jack to make that happen. But this is something else entirely. Let’s just hope he’s not about to reveal that his grandad’s next dream was to give away all his worldly goods and become a nudist, because there’s only so much a girl can put up with in the name of family, you know?)
But I want to be a supportive girlfriend here. I really do. Because I love him. I want him to be happy. And he’s so excited about this — so much so that I don’t think he’s even noticed the smell of cow dung that’s been following us for the last ten minutes, despite my efforts to dislodge it — that I can’t ruin it for him. I just can’t.
If log cabins are Jack’s dream, then I’ll make them my dream, too. I can do that. I’m pretty adaptable. I once spent an entire year answering to the name ‘Emily’ at work, because my boss picked me up wrong when I tried to introduce myself, and I couldn’t bring myself to correct him. So pretending I’ve always wanted to run a small log-cabin community just to make Jack happy will be a breeze, seriously.
And I guess I’ll have a lot of free time now that I don’t have a wedding to plan, won’t I?
So. Emerald View it is, then. I can totally turn myself into a girl who runs a log cabin community. I could buy a … a plaid shirt, maybe? And some boots? Or, you know, whatever it is log cabin people wear.
“I think it’s amazing,” I lie, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. “You’re amazing. I can’t wait to see what it’s going to look like when it’s finished. When will that be, do you think?”
I let him go and turn back to the tractors, pretending to find them fascinating as I try to squash the white wedding hopes I came here with down into a log-cabin sized shape.
“Oh, a few months, I reckon,” Jack says casually. “Just in time for the wedding, I hope.”
“The… the what?”
My heart, which has been plodding along quite comfortably, minding its own business, suddenly skitters to a halt and holds its breath.
What did he just say?
I turn to face him, on legs which appear to have developed a mind of their own.
Jack’s down on one knee, not caring about the mud that he’s kneeling in, with a small, velvet-covered object that is unmistakably a ring box in his hand.
Oh. My. God.
“This place was my grandfather’s dream, Emerald,” he says, “But you’re mine. You’re my dream. You’ve always been my dream — ever since the very first moment I met you. I was standing in mud then, too, remember?”
I let out a sound that can’t decide whether it wants to be a laugh or a sob as I remember our first meeting; me glaring at him from the bus he’d just driven off the road, while he stood scowling back at me from a ditch.
“But I didn’t care,” he goes on, smiling up at me. “I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now, because you’re the only thing I see. And I’d kind of like to keep on seeing you forever, if that’s okay with you?”
My heart has started up again, but it somehow seems to have swollen to at least twice its normal size, which makes it impossible for me to do anything other than just stand there struggling for words as Jack opens the box in his hand to reveal the most dazzling emerald ring I’ve ever seen in my life. Not that I’ve seen many emerald engagement rings in my life, you understand. This is the very first, in fact. But I don’t need to be an expert to tell you that even if I live for another hundred years, I will never see anything even half as precious as this one. Because this one’s about to be mine.
“It’s ethically sourced,” says Jack seriously — a statement that’s just so him that it makes me burst out laughing; a laugh that’s instantly mixed with the tears which are suddenly running down my cheeks.
“Wait,” I say as he scrambles to his feet. “Um, just so we’re clear: you are asking me to marry you, aren’t you? This isn’t just… I don’t know, a really extravagant gift or something? Because you did just announce you’d bought us both a log-cabin community, so I just want to be sure I’m not getting the wrong end of the stick here. Because that would be so like me, and— ”
“Of course I’m asking you to marry me,” Jack interrupts, grinning. “Did I not say that? Oh shit, I didn’t did I? Sorry. I knew I should have practiced this first.”
He starts to get back down on one knee, but I dart forward to stop him, almost falling flat on my face in the process.
“Don’t,” I say, still doing that weird laugh/sob thing, which I’m going to have to edit out of my memories of this moment, along with the cow shit on my shoe. “You didn’t need to practice. It was perfect. Truly.”
“Really?” His face lights up with exactly the kind of smile that made me fall in love with him in the first place. “Thank God for that. So, does that mean you’re saying yes, then?”
He pulls me towards him and takes the ring out of the box.
“Yes!” I say, laughing. “Yes, of course I am! Do you really need to ask?”
He slides the ring onto my finger, and I stare down at it, hardly daring to believe that it’s mine. He’s mine. And, for once in my life, the reality is even better than anything I could possibly have imagined.
“I want to do this together, Emerald,” Jack says, suddenly serious. “Not just this project, but all of it. Life. The whole thing. Because I love you so much, and I couldn’t do any of it without you. It would be like having half a life. You and me against the world, right?”
Then he takes me in his arms and kisses me in a way that feels like the end of a movie, but which I know now is actually just the very start. It might not have happened exactly the way I’d imagined it, but it was the perfect proposal, mud and all; and as I kiss him back, I’m not thinking about my wedding dress, or my hair, or even about the stupid cow pat — which I definitely haven’t managed to wipe off as successfully as I thought I had.
No, I’m thinking about him. About this. This precious moment, in which everything in my life has finally come together, and in which everything is just as perfect as it can possibly be.
Until, all of a sudden, it isn’t.
Because, as Jack and I walk hand-in-hand back down the hill, his knees covered in mud and my feet still caked in cow dung, my phone beeps with a message.
I almost don’t bother to look at it, not wanting to ruin the moment. But then I think about Frankie, who’s been waiting impatiently all day to find out what Jack’s big surprise is, and I pull the phone out of my pocket, ready to snap a quick photo of the ring to send her.
That’s when I see it.
The message has been sent from an unknown number, and it contains just three short words, which make my perfect moment shatter into pieces around me: