“So, did you give them all the juicy details?” I asked.
She giggled. Again. “I mean, not all. I tried not to kiss and tell, but they were really persuasive.”
“I’ll bet they were.” We headed up the stairs to the room. She squinted at the key as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, so I took it from her and unlocked the door.
She flopped across the foot of the bed. “The room is a little spinny. I think maybe I should have stopped like one glass of wine sooner. But it felt good to be silly for a little while, you know?”
I sat at the edge of the bed. “I do know. You’ve had a lot on your mind, and sometimes you need to set everything aside for a bit, give yourself a break. We do have to get an early start tomorrow, so I think we should head to bed soon, okay?”
She didn’t answer, and when I looked down at her, she was sound asleep, which I should have predicted. I took off her shoes and jeans so she’d be comfortable and lifted her in my arms, laying her down properly with her head on the pillow. Without waking, she curled on her side, and I tucked the blanket around her.
I set a glass of water on the nightstand in case she woke up in the middle of the night, then climbed into bed and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close.
The evening hadn’t gone quite the way I’d anticipated. But when she murmured my name in her sleep and pulled my arm more tightly around her waist, I decided it was pretty perfect after all.
Chapter Forty-Five
Amelia
My throbbing head woke me. I peeled one eye open, squinting in the bright sunlight. Sunlight? The last thing I remembered was flopping across the bed and closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to watch the room spin. What happened after that? Did Rory and I—?
“Good morning, sunshine.”
I opened my other eye and turned to see Rory lying beside me, head propped on his hand, smiling down at me. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. How’s your head?”
“Pounding,” I whispered.
“I figured.” He sat up and took something from his nightstand. When he turned back, he was holding a glass of water and two ibuprofen.
“You are a god,” I said, sitting up and gratefully taking the pills. Okay, I was still in my shirt and bra, so if we had done anything, I hadn’t gotten completely undressed.
“Aye, I keep telling people that, but so far no one’s listening. Maybe you could spread the word.”
“I’m going to tweet it. Hashtag Rory Sutherland is a god among men.” I peeked under the blanket. No jeans, but I was still in my underwear and socks.
“Looking for something?” he asked, arching a brow.
“I just…I remember coming back to the room with you and lying across the bed. I closed my eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning, and that’s it. Nothing after that. I do remember thinking of all the things I wanted to do with you last night—shit.” I buried my face in my hands.
“Should I be worried?”
“I’m pretty sure I also told the girls about all the things I wanted to do with you last night. I am so sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”
He burst out laughing, the sound so unlike him I could only stare. He showed no sign of stopping, so I went into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. When I came out, he was wiping his eyes. He grinned at me. “That explains a lot.”
I sat down on the bed. “What does?”
“Let’s just say that there were some significant looks I got from the lassies last night, along with some giggly wishes for us to have fun, most accompanied by a nudge and a wink. Now I know why.”
“Oh my God.”
“Unfortunately, you’ll have to make up some elaborate story if they ask, because the last thing you remember about last night is the last thing that happened. You were sound asleep about three seconds after you laid on the bed. I took off your jeans and shoes and tucked you in.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, disgusted with myself.
“For what?”
“For wasting a whole night with you. We only have one more day and night together, and—”
He kissed me, cutting off the rest of what I was about to say.
“You didn’t waste anything,” he said when he drew back. “You decompressed after a stressful, emotional week, and you had a good time with friends you won’t see again for a while. And I got to sleep with you in my arms. But,” he added, “if you really want to make it up to me, we have time for you to show me at least one of the things you told the lasses you planned to do with me before we hit the road.”
“I can do that,” I said.
…
A few hours later, it was my turn to watch Rory sleep. I studied his features, committing them to memory. His wild, dark red curls that shined copper in the sun, long enough to tangle my hands in. His handsome face, so stern and unsmiling when I’d first met him. Those features were a little softer now, his smile coming more easily, though a friendly and welcoming grin would not likely ever be his default setting. The strong jaw with its auburn stubble, softer now after days of not shaving.
And those stunning eyes, hidden from me now, but I knew their many colors. Clear gray-green, like the sea on a rainy day; liquid silver like the mercury in an old thermometer; bright green like the aurora that had danced across the night sky.
In a little over a week, I’d gone from thinking he was the biggest jerk ever to knowing he was the exact opposite. He’d been my nemesis, my helper, my friend, my lover. We’d shared laughter, tears, and the kind of passion I’d only ever read about.
And in just a few hours, I’d have to say goodbye to him.
Tell him you love him, said the voice inside me.
“I can’t,” I whispered. What purpose would it serve?
I had a life to get back to, thousands of miles away. And his life was here, striding over the hills and through the glens, climbing snow-covered peaks in winter and swimming in cold lochs in the summer. He might come for a visit, if he was even still thinking of me once we were thousands of miles apart, but that was it.
He didn’t belong in a city like Miami. The heat would lay him out flat, the sheer number of people would stifle him.
What would he even do there? It wasn’t like there was a market for long-distance trail guides in southern Florida, where the steepest terrain was walking up a few flights of stairs. And the thought of him staring at a computer screen in a tiny cubicle in an overly air-conditioned office, in khakis and dress shoes, wearing a button-down shirt and, heaven forbid, a tie?
He would wither away there. And he would come to hate me for making him leave his life of trails and open spaces and changing seasons and wild terrain.
No, I couldn’t tell him. It was just a fling—an exciting, sexy fling between two people who were attracted to each other. Tomorrow we’d say goodbye, and we’d both be sad about it for a while. Eventually, we’d both move on. And maybe when Carrie was better, she and I would take our trip to Scotland, and maybe he’d meet us for a drink. Or maybe we’d do a trail with him as our guide.
And then we’d return to the States, and he’d stay here.
The thought of saying goodbye to him was unbearable, but I would do it.
There was no other option.
Rory’s phone vibrated on the nightstand, making me jump and waking him up. Muttering under his breath, he peered at it.
“Everything okay?”
He rolled his eyes. “Scarlet needs to see Tommy and me at nine thirty. It’s what, nine now? We can run down for breakfast, and then I’ll go meet them while you get ready. Shouldn’t be more than an hour, and then we can get on the road. Okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds fine.”
He swung out of bed and walked naked into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower came on.
I threw on the clothes I’d worn the night before—they were a bit wrinkled, but good enough to wear to the B&B’s breakfast room. Five minutes later, he emerged from the ba
throom and got dressed.
We had a lovely breakfast of eggs and grilled tomatoes, potato scones and toast, and then I walked him to the door. “See you in a little while.”
“Aye, see you,” he replied. He gave me a quick kiss and strode off down the street. I watched him go, finally heading inside after he disappeared from view.
I returned to the room. It was so strange to be alone after so many days in such intense close company with Rory. He’ll be back soon, and then you’ll have the whole day and night together. And then we’d say goodbye, possibly for good.
A wave of agony doubled me over. It felt as if my heart was literally breaking. Hugging myself, I sank down on the bed and sobbed.
Some time later, I got to my feet, my body raw and aching, and staggered into the shower, then got dressed and packed my bag.
When I was done, I sat on the bed and picked up my phone.
There was something I had to do.
Chapter Forty-Six
Rory
The meeting with Scarlet and Tommy took a little longer than I thought, as there were some logistics to work out for next week’s West Highland Way trek. It was 10:45, later than I’d wanted to get on the road for the roughly two-hundred-mile drive to Glasgow, but Amelia’s flight wasn’t until tomorrow morning anyway. I was actually looking forward to the long car ride—anything to spend a few more hours with her.
“I’ll get the van and meet you out front,” said Tommy, who was driving us to Sligachan so I could borrow Gav’s car.
“Aye, be right out.”
I jogged up the stairs and unlocked the door. “Sorry, Amelia,” I said as I entered the room. “Are you—”
The room was empty. Amelia wasn’t there. Her rucksack wasn’t there, though mine still sat on the floor by the chair. She was probably on the phone outside somewhere. I hit the loo, grabbed my pack, and headed downstairs.
I greeted the landlady, Mrs. Douglas, whom I’d known for a few years. “Here’s the second key for Number 2.”
“Thanks, lovey,” she said. “Your lass turned in hers already.”
“Thanks—I guess she’s waiting for me outside.” I turned toward the door.
“Rory, wait. Amelia asked me to give this to you.”
She held out a plain white envelope with my name written in cursive on the outside.
And I knew.
I took it from her as if it were a snake and stumbled to one of the chairs in the lobby.
That was where Tommy found me a few minutes later.
“Hey man, are we going or what? I got things to— What’s wrong? Where’s Amelia?”
Wordlessly, I handed him the single sheet of paper that had been inside the envelope. I watched him read the words I’d already read several times.
Dear Rory,
I know you told me that we shouldn’t get involved, that you didn’t think I was cut out for a short fling. And I know I told you I was, insisted I could handle it.
I lied. To you—and to myself.
This morning, it all came crashing down.
How would I sit beside you in the car for the whole day, making small talk? How would I have a nice dinner with you in Glasgow and not talk about what would happen after I went home? How would I spend another glorious night in your arms and pretend my heart wasn’t breaking at the thought of leaving you? How would I say goodbye to you?
I was strong enough to complete the Skye Trail, but I’m not strong enough to say goodbye.
I changed my flight to this evening, and by the time you read this, I’ll be on the bus to Glasgow.
I know it’s for the best—for both of us.
There’s no way I can ever thank you for what you did for me this week. But I’ll say it anyway: Thank you. For helping me get through the trek. For making me feel. For everything.
Maybe we can email from time to time, and maybe our paths will cross again, but if not, that’s okay. It’ll have to be.
No regrets.
Amelia
Tommy lowered the letter. “Why are you still sitting there?” He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
I looked up at him, my whole body numb. “Where? We can’t chase the bus, Tommy. It left half an hour ago.”
“We don’t have to chase it. We know where she’s going. If she changed her flight to tonight, it’s probably leaving at what, like eight-something? We’ll get there in plenty of time.”
I threw up my hands. “In time for what? She’s flying back to New York, to her new job, to her life. We could have had one more day—one more night—together, but she gave that up because she didn’t want to drag this out.”
“All of that may be true, but it’ll eat you up inside if you don’t get some kind of closure. So let’s get in the goddamn car so you can say goodbye to her.”
Resigned, I grabbed his hand and let him pull me to my feet.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Amelia
The bus ride was a blur. I ignored everyone and everything around me. I stared out the window, but didn’t see the scenery. Instead I saw a series of scenes in my mind as I replayed the week with Rory: every conversation, every kiss, every caress. Over and over. Tears dripped from my eyes, and I brushed them away.
I knew I’d made the right decision—spending another day and night with him would have been agony—but that didn’t make it any easier, didn’t make me miss him any less.
What had he thought when he’d read the letter? Was he relieved to get out of the prolonged goodbye? Was he sad that I’d left without telling him? Was it both?
Had he been surprised by the extent of my feelings for him? Did he feel the same way? Does it even matter now?
After six hours, we finally pulled into the airport. I blew my nose, dried my eyes.
I turned off the video in my mind. Rory and I were a moment in time, an interlude. And now the moment was over—a memory, one of so many from this trip.
I’d given myself the long bus ride to grieve for what might have been. Now I needed to focus on what was. On getting home to Carrie, on preparing for Miami and my new job.
We pulled up to the curb. I shouldered my pack and stepped off the bus to begin my journey home.
I checked in, dropped off my bag, and limped through the terminal toward security. My knee was sore after the long bus ride, and it would be even worse after the long flight. I would just take it slow; I was in no rush. Besides, after hiking eighty miles on Skye, the airport was a piece of cake.
There was a Starbucks before the checkpoint. I hadn’t eaten lunch, and it was a while until I’d get dinner on the plane, so I stopped to pick up a coffee and a pastry.
I turned from the counter—and nearly ran into someone. His hands came out to steady me, and I looked up into eyes the color of a stormy sea. My heart stopped, then began to pound.
“Rory?”
Was I hallucinating from lack of caffeine and food? No, his hands on my arms were warm and strong, and I could smell the citrusy soap he’d used that morning—was that really just this morning?
“Aye, it’s me,” he said with a slightly sardonic quirk of his lips.
“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought my note explained things.” I didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved or thrilled.
“It did. But I wanted to say goodbye to you the right way,” he said.
He took the coffee and paper bag from my hands and put them—somewhere.
And then he kissed the hell out of me.
It was angry at first—on both sides. I’d wanted a clean break; he obviously hadn’t. Then his arms came around me, and he crushed me to him, pulling me up on my tiptoes. I clutched his shoulders and just held on as our kisses went from angry to passionate to tender, as he lowered me so that my feet were on the floor, his hands cupping my face as mine twined in his hair.
Finally we drew apart, both of us breathless. “I—how did you get here?”
“I threw his ass into the car and drove him.”
I dragg
ed my eyes from Rory’s face and turned to see Tommy standing a few feet away, holding my coffee and Starbucks bag. He raised the cup in salute.
I dropped into a chair, completely overwhelmed. Rory pulled over another one and sat facing me. “I couldn’t let you leave without seeing you one last time.” He took my hands in his. “Are you mad?”
I gazed into those luminous eyes, so full of emotion, and sighed. “How could I be mad?” And it was true. Even though I’d told myself I wanted a clean break, I was thrilled that he cared enough to come after me. “But it doesn’t change anything, Rory.”
He nodded. “I know it doesn’t.”
Tommy grabbed coffees for the two of them, and we sat for a few minutes. And then it was time. We got to our feet. Rory went to the men’s room. I turned to Tommy, who pulled me into a hug.
“I’m really glad you made him come, Tommy. He’s lucky to have you for a friend.”
“And you were lucky to have him—there’s no better man to be found.”
“I know.”
“He was lucky to have you, too, Amelia, however briefly. I wish you could stay. You make him happy. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s him.”
“He makes me happy, too,” I whispered. “And I wish I could stay, believe me. But I can’t. I need to get home to my friend, to the job I’m starting.”
“Aye, I know.” The smile left his face. “I hope our paths will cross again one day soon, Amelia Benson.”
“Me, too.”
He hugged me again, pulling back just as Rory returned. “I’m going to take a walk while you two say your goodbyes. Rory, I’ll meet you back here.”
Rory drew me into his arms. I laid my cheek against his heart and just held on. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed he didn’t, either.
I couldn’t let this drag out any longer. I mustered up a big smile. “Thank you, Rory. For agreeing to help me finish the trek. For facing your own demons so I didn’t have to quit. For this past week, which has been the most amazing adventure.” Tears flooded my eyes. “And…and for everything else,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
Under a Storm-Swept Sky Page 27