I don’t need to be told twice.
I leave the dining room at a brisk pace, ignoring the satisfied smile my grandmother shares with my mother and the thumbs-up Keira throws me.
I headfor the northern hill—the one where the old guard hut stands. The same place Jane and I took shelter during the storm. The place where everything changed.
It’s instinct—but I know Jane now. She’s sentimental. Drawn to places that carry meaning. And that cabin marks a turningpoint—the moment our arrangement became something real. Something deep.
As I near the path leading up to it, I spot a familiar figure ahead of me.
Jane.
She’s wearing jeans and a thick sweater—she’s finally figured out that Hollywood fashion doesn’t survive the Scottish climate—and she’s walking slowly, hands tucked into her pockets.
I break into a run.
—Jane! I call out.
She turns, surprised, and stops. I can’t read her expression from this distance—but she doesn’t run. I take that as a good sign.
I reach her, slightly out of breath, and we stand there on the windy path, facing each other like uncertain opponents.
—I was afraid you’d already left, I admit, breaking the silence.
—I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, Callum, she says softly. Even if things are complicated between us, I wouldn’t just disappear.
Herwithout saying goodbyesends a chill through me. Has she already made her decision?
—Were you heading to the cabin? I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
She nods.
—I needed to think. That place… it means something to me. To us.
—It does to me too, I admit. That’s how I knew I’d find you here.
A faint, sad smile touches her lips.
—You know me well.
—Not well enough, apparently. Not if I couldn’t even tell you how I really feel.
She looks at me, surprised, her eyes widening slightly.
—And how do you really feel, Callum?
This is it.
The moment to let go of my pride. My fear. My restraint.
To show her the real Callum McGregor—the one no one, not even me, truly knew… until she walked into my life.
CHAPTER 35
JANE
—I love you, Jane, he says simply. I love you in a way I never thought possible. The idea of you leaving terrifies me. Not because it would complicate a contract or anything that superficial, but because life without you feels empty—colorless, joyless.
The words come pouring out now, like a dam breaking after years of pressure.
