—Yes, now! It’s Scorsese, Jane! You can’t pass this up!
The way he completely brushes aside Callum—and my life here—should irritate me, but I’m too disoriented by the surreal timing.
—It’s not that simple, Max. I have a life here now. A marriage.
—An arranged marriage, right? he says casually. Look, you did what you had to do to get out of that media mess. Smart move, by the way. But now this is a new opportunity. You can come back and reclaim your real life.
Your real life.
The words echo strangely, tangling with Alistair’s insinuations and the image I just witnessed.
—I need to think, I say finally. This isn’t something I can decide on a whim.
—Don’t think too long, he warns. Opportunities like this don’t come twice. I’ll send you the details. Just… remember, your ticket back to Hollywood is ready. All you have to do is say yes.
After hanging up, I remain beneath the willow, trying to process everything that’s happened in the span of a few hours. My marriage—something I believed solid and real despite how it began—feels suddenly fragile. A career opportunity I once dreamed of has appeared at the worst possible moment. And here I am, standing in the gardens of a Scottish castle, wondering where I truly belong.
A presence beside me makes me turn my head.
Hamish.
—Hey, you.
He steps closer and settles beside me. A few months ago, I had a full-blown fear of sheep—and plenty of other creatures, for that matter. And yet now, I find an odd kind of comfort in his quiet presence.
The sun begins to dip, casting long shadows across the grass. I should go back inside. Face Callum. Demand answers.
But something still holds me back. Maybe the fear that everything I thought I was building here is nothing more than a house of cards—ready to collapse at the first strong gust.
My phone vibrates again.
Callum
Jane, where are you? We need to talk. It’s not what you think. Please, come back.
The words seem sincere—but the image of Heather in his arms is burned into my mind. How am I supposed to know what’s real anymore?
As I stare at my screen, unable to decide what to do, a familiar silhouette appears at the far end of the garden.
Callum.
He’s looking for me. Walking straight toward me.
The moment of truth is here.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t know whether our story is about to turn into a beautiful romance…
or a devastating heartbreak.
CHAPTER 31
JANE
I watch Callum as he strides toward me, his face etched with a kind of worry I’ve never seen on him before. Beside me, Hamish chews lazily on a patch of grass, completely indifferent to the unfolding drama. Sheep have this enviable ability to not give a single damn about human existential crises.
—Jane, Callum says, stopping a few feet away, slightly out of breath. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.
—Well, you found me, I reply flatly. Congratulations.
