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“Fraser?” Jolene prompts me angrily.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. We were just talking…”
“About what?” Jolene demands. She plants her hands on her hips and fixes me with an angry stare. “They were happy. They werein love. And now it’s all over. So tell me, Fraser, what the hell did you say to break it all apart?”
20
JJ
I can’t believe this.Moments ago, we were toasting the triumph of true love, and now Hugo is already revving the engine of his rental car down the drive, ready to hightail it out of here for good.
“Did you talk him out of it?” I ask, whirling back to Fraser in confusion. “After everything? I thought you said it was destiny! Two hearts would find a way!”
“I had nothing to do with this,” Fraser insists. “We were just making conversation over the mushroom patch—likeyoutold me to do.”
“Then how come Max says you changed his mind?” I demand.
“I don’t know!” Fraser exclaims, clearly frustrated. “I was talking about stuff, what it was like giving up your passion and putting someone else first. I didn’t mean for him to…”
“To what? Break poor Hugo’s heart?” I feel an awful bolt of guilt lodge deep in the center of my chest. He looked devastated—and it’s all our fault. If we hadn’t chased after him, if we hadn’t shown up here…
If I hadn’t thought sending Fraser off foraging with Max was a good idea.
But that was before I accepted that Hugo was happiest staying right here on the island. Hanging out this afternoon over facemasks and rosé, it became clear to me that he’s in love. Capital L, truly madly deeply kind of love, the kind that comes around once in a lifetime if you’re lucky—and haunts every wistful dream if you’re foolish or proud enough to let it slip away. I swore, I wasn’t about to go fucking that up for him, even if the whole movie production is hanging in the balance.
Clearly, Fraser doesn’t feel the same.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks, raking a hand through his hair, the way he always does when he’s trying to regroup, and get a handle on things. “So, things didn’t turn out too great, but, bright side, we get Hugo back to the movie in time for your deadline, Reeve doesn’t melt down, and my boss stays none the wiser about things.” He gives a nod, like the matter’s already settled. “And, alright, Hugo isn’t happy, but he can channel that emotion into the role, and make Darcy unforgettable. It’s win-win.”
I gape at him in disbelief. Did we just time travel back a week ago, to when Fraser was in full Suit Guy mode? He sounds calm. Rational. Too fucking sensible for words.
“How is any of this a win?” I cry, gesturing vaguely to the rental car, and Max’s house, and the ocean of misery now echoing between them. “Is this about the studio profits?” I ask him slowly, searching his face.
“What? No!”
“Because you’re the one they tasked with keeping things on track,” I continue, reeling to try and make this make some sense. “You’re Suit Guy. King of the bottom line. You get to be the hero for your bosses if Hugo comes back and the movie films smoothly for the rest of the shoot.”
“Jolene, no,” Fraser insists. “I told you, I’m all for Hugo and Max saying ‘fuck you’ to Hollywood and shacking up here.”
“So why the talk about regret, and resentment?” I demand and see something shift in Fraser’s expression. A guilty wince.
“Because he was doing it for the wrong reasons,” Fraser says with a sigh. My jaw drops. “You don’t just upend your life on a whim like this,” he insists. “Not if you want it to last.”
“No,youdon’t,” I say, with a pang of heartache. “You don’t risk anything for love.”
His face tightens. “That’s not fair.”
“No? Well, you want to know what else isn’t fair?” I demand hotly, “Having the love of your life suddenly dump you out of nowhere. Hey, at least Max had the nerve to do it to Hugo’s face. I didn’t even get so much as a fucking voicemail when you decided to end us!”
“This isn’t about us,” Fraser says grimly, but it feels like it is. I’ve been swept up these past few days, breathless with excitement over our reunion.My Fraser. Finally picking up where things left off, like no time has passed at all.
But standing here, looking at him, I realize, it was just the chemistry and nostalgia talking. Because it’s ten years later, and I don’t know the man staring back at me. Not really—not anymore.
Sure, there are parts of him as familiar as my own heart, but there’s a side to him that’s still a stranger, too. This cool, rational side, which weighs the odds, and calculates the optimal outcome. The man who flashes his cash around to solve every problem, and says he regrets not holding onto me—but then turns around and warns somebody else not to risk it all for love.
He’s changed. How could he not have? Everything he’s been through, all the choices he had to make, they’ve shaped the person he’s become.
And I’ve changed, too.
