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“In fact, we’ll find new men, wonderful men who never make us cry,” Hugo declares. “They’ll be mature, and reasonable, and actually value our love and devotion.”
“Yes!” I exclaim. “And know how to communicate and pick up a damn phone.”
It’s been twenty-one hours since I left Scotland, and there’s still nothing from Fraser.
Not that I’m counting.
“Some people hold back for fear of getting hurt,” Hugo continues, “But our men? “They’ll be all in for love, baby.”
“Amen to that,” I agree. We share a laugh, but I know, deep down, it’s hollow.
I don’t want any other man. I just want Fraser.
“Places, everyone!”
Hugo stands. “Back to it,” he says, giving me a salute.
“Knock ‘em dead.”
I watchanother couple of takes, then step outside to get some fresh air. It feels odd to be gazing out at the calm English countryside again, after being surrounded by the dramatic Highland peaks.
“I was just looking for you!” Hazel intercepts me on the way to the snack table. “You’re late for your massage.”
“My what?” I look around, confused. “I thought Reeve was supposed to be cutting the budget, not hiring on therapists to keep us all calm.”
Hazel laughs, a little too loud. “No, silly, this is for you, back at the hotel spa. As a thank you,” she adds brightly. “For pulling off the miracle and bringing Hugo back.”
I sigh. “I don’t know, I should probably stay here, on set, in case they need me.” More like I need the constant distraction, to keep my thoughts from spiraling back to Fraser again. “Maybe another time?” I offer, but Hazel clamps a hand around my wrist and practically drags me over to a golf cart.
“You can take JJ back to the hotel, can’t you?” she asks a PA before I can object. “It’ll be great,” she adds to me. “I booked you a whole morning to relax. Facial, scrubs, you’ll love it!”
“That’s sweet, but—”
“No buts!” Hazel shoves me on the cart, even as I protest. “You’ve had a hell of a week. And, no offense, you look it. Go get de-stressed, and we’ll see you later.”
She taps the roof of the golf cart, and it whisks me away, leaving Hazel waving brightly behind us, almost like she’s trying to get rid of me.
Weird.
But who am I kidding? A schedule of free spa treatments isn’t exactly a punishment worse than death, so I present myself at the front desk of the hotel spa, and gladly submit to a morning getting pummeled, pampered, and scrubbed, with a side helping of crudités and cucumber water. By the time I emerge, smelling like eucalyptus and feeling more like a human, I have to admit, Hazel was right. My skin feels fresh, and my limbs looser. If only there were a treatment for the aching heart.
It hurts more with every minute I’m away from Fraser. I hate that he still has such a hold on me.
My phone buzzes, just as I’m heading back to my room. It’s Reeve. “Hazel made me do it!” I yelp, in case he’s mad I’ve been AWOL all morning.
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I pause. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re just about to film the dinner scene,” he replies. “Can you come give the table manners talk again? Sophia keeps reaching for the wrong knife. I wouldn’t care, except—”
“There are definitely people lurking on the internet who will,” I finish for him. I’d love nothing more than to go nap in my post-spa stupor, but duty calls. “I’ll be right over.”
“Great. Come to the rose garden.”
He hangs up before I can ask why.
I shrug and go snag a golf cart back to set with some of the tech guys. Dining etiquette is one of those fussy details that doesn’t matter to the meat of a scene, but it will definitely be noticed if our actors get it wrong. I already talked them through the whole ‘fish knife versus butter knife’ thing, but clearly, a refresher is needed.
