I turn slowly, like in a horror movie where the heroine knows she’s about to come face-to-face with the monster.
And there he is, in all his Hollywood glory—Ryan Fowler, my ex-boyfriend—standing in the middle of a Scottish street like he just stepped out of a luxury perfume ad.
— Ryan, I manage, my voice suddenly as dry as the Mojave Desert. What a… surprise.
— What a nightmare, Savannah mutters.
— Who is that? Keira asks.
Ryan strides toward me, arms wide, his dazzling smile perfectly calibrated for cameras—even though there aren’t any in sight, unless the local sheep are secretly paparazzi in disguise. He looks nothing like the man I threw out of my house in Los Angeles. I’d almost forgotten his ability to conveniently ignore anything that doesn’t suit him…
— My Jane! he exclaims, pulling me into a hug without my consent. I can’t believe I found you in a place like this!
He glances around like he’s just landed on some particularly primitive foreign planet.
I awkwardly push myself out of his arms, aware of Keira watching me with a mix of curiosity and amusement. I shoot Savannah a look—she seems about two seconds away from going for his throat, and honestly, I think she’s aiming for the jugular.
— What are you doing here? I ask my ex, still reeling from the shock of seeing him.
— I came to get you, of course! he declares, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I blink, certain I misheard him.
— You came to get me? I squeak.
— I’m going to kill him, chop him into tiny pieces, and feed him to the sheep, Savannah growls.
— They’re vegetarians, Keira informs her.
— Then I’ll just strangle him and skin him…
Keira slips an arm around my best friend’s shoulders.
— We really need to have a talk about what is and isn’t legal in this country.
Ryan ignores them completely.
— Obviously! You’d never marry a… (he lowers his voice like he’s sharing a secret) Scotsman unless you were desperate. I understand the scandal put you in a difficult position, but there are better solutions than selling yourself to some medieval landowner.
Next to me, Keira coughs loudly, clearly trying to hide a laugh. I shoot her a glare before turning back to Ryan.
— I didn’t sell myself to anyone, Ryan. And Callum is not a “medieval landowner.” He’s a respected businessman and… he’s my husband.
Saying the words sends a strange ripple of satisfaction through me.
— Your husband, Ryan repeats, shaking his head like I just told him I’d decided to start breeding penguins. Come on, Jane. We both know this isn’t serious. How could it be? You’ve known him what—five minutes?
Keira clears her throat and steps forward, extending her hand with a predatory smile.
— Hi, I’m Keira McGregor, sister of the “medieval landowner.” And you are…?
To his credit, Ryan looks briefly embarrassed.
— Ryan Fowler, he says, shaking her hand. I’m a friend of Jane’s.
— A friend, of course, Keira replies with a smile that fools absolutely no one. Fascinating how “friends” cross an ocean to “save” women from their own decisions.
— He wouldn’t save his own mother if there wasn’t something in it for him, Savannah adds.
