The waitress appeared with their bill. She was blushing and seemed flustered. Michael paid and gave her a large tip. As she tucked the money into her apron, she leaned in and said, “You’re Isabel, aren’t you? You’re really her.” Needing confirmation she asked again, “You are her, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
Annie’s hand flew to her throat. “I love your voice,” she blurted.
“Thank you.”
“Could you give me your autograph? My boss said it was okay to ask.”
As soon as Isabel agreed, Annie tore one of the blank pages from her order pad and handed the paper and her pen to Isabel.
“Sign it ‘to Annie,’ please, and you can say how nice it was to meet me if that’s all right. You don’t need to write your full name. Just sign ‘Isabel’ because that’s what XO calls you.”
“Yes, of course,” Isabel said, and quickly wrote the message and signed her name.
“This is so exciting,” she whispered. “Could I ask something?”
“What is it?”
“Are you going to marry XO?”
Michael was more surprised by the question than Isabel appeared to be.
“No, I’m not going to marry XO.”
“All your fans say you are.”
She had hoped the Internet chatter would have died down by now. “You read that I was going to marry him?”
“Oh yes, it’s everywhere. It’s all over social media. I turn on my laptop first thing in the morning and read the latest news while I have my tea. You’re all that everyone is talking about. Tomorrow will be awesome. I’ll get to brag that I met you.” Annie started to walk away, then stopped. “Wait. You’re not already married to XO, are you?”
Isabel smiled. “No, we’re just friends.”
Michael muttered something under his breath. Isabel was pretty sure it was a blasphemy.
“Are you famous or something?” Fletcher wanted to know.
She shook her head. “No.”
The front door suddenly flew open with such force it bounced against the wall. The whole pub fell dead silent.
And the Terror of the Highlands stormed in.