—McGregor? a groggy voice grumbles. Do you have any idea what time it is?
—It’s seven in the morning, I reply after checking my watch. Not exactly the middle of the night.
—On a Saturday? That’s practically dawn! What’s going on?
—I’m in the village. Can I come by?
There’s a pause, then a resigned sigh.
—Give me ten minutes.
Exactly eight minutes later, I pull up outside Ewan’s old family house. My best friend appears at the door, disheveled but dressed, his red hair a mess and his expression caught somewhere between concern and irritation.
—You’d better be dying, McGregor, he mutters, opening the door. Or at least bleeding heavily.
—Sorry for waking you, I say flatly, following him inside.
—Oh no, it’s nothing, he shoots back. I had nothing better to do on a Saturday morning than listen to a millionaire in a kilt have an existential crisis.
The house is quiet and dim. Ewan heads straight for the bar in the living room, switches on a lamp, and pours two generous glasses of whisky.
—A bit early for a drink, isn’t it? I remark.
—Says the man who wakes me at dawn looking like he just attended a funeral, he retorts, handing me a glass. So what brings you here at this ungodly hour? Let me guess—marital problems?
I take a sip, grimacing as the whisky burns its way down.
—Jane is thinking about going back to Los Angeles, I say after a moment.
Ewan lets out a low whistle.
—For good? Or just for a shoot?
—For good, I think. She got an offer for a major film. Martin Scorsese.
I add that last part as if it somehow changes anything.
—Impressive, he says. And what about you? You going with her?
The question catches me off guard. Go with her? The idea hasn’t even crossed my mind. Leave Scotland, the McGregor lands, the family business? Unthinkable.
—It’s not that simple, I say. The company is here. My family is here…
—And Jane is there, Ewan finishes. So what—long-distance marriage? You visit her between board meetings?
I stare into my glass, unable to answer. The idea of being separated from Jane—of only seeing her occasionally—suddenly feels unbearable. These past months with her have changed my life in ways I never imagined.
—She didn’t ask me to go with her, I say finally. In fact, she hasn’t even decided if she’s leaving yet.
Ewan stares at me like I’ve just confessed to being spectacularly stupid.
—And what exactly did you say to her when she told you about this opportunity?
—That I understood it was important to her and that I didn’t want to stop her from pursuing her career.
—That’s it? he presses. You didn’t tell her—you know—that you love her and don’t want her to leave?
I shift uncomfortably.
