CHAPTER SIX ~ ABBY ~ NOW
“A trip isn’t some magic fix, and two weeks away won’t change your life, but...”
Drew’s words from a week ago echo in my mind as the plane begins its descent.
Two weeks away may not change my life, but the moment we boarded the plane in Toronto, I felt like I was leaving my troubles behind.
And when I say ‘troubles’, I fully acknowledge they’re first-world problems. I have a roof over my head, the most amazing and supportive friends, money in savings, and I’m on my way to Scotland, for crying out loud... but I feel like a failure.
Hopefully some literal distance from everything will put things into perspective. Two restorative weeks of quality time with my favourite people in a place I’ve dreamed of returning to should be enough for me to feel renewed and ready to start a new chapter of my life. Whatever that may be.
I focus my attention out the window once more.
My heart has been racing ever since land came into view and I caught my first glimpse of the varying shades of green and brown.
And the yellows! The dark, moody colours of Scotland—along with the vibrant purple of heather in the summer months—are talked about a lot, with good reason.
But when I think of Scotland, I often think of yellow: rapeseed fields, gorse bushes, and daffodils that bloom in the most unexpected places.
My thoughts stray to Graeme, as they’ve done regularly in the last week.
So much of my love for Scotland is tied to him.
Before he came along, I knew a fair amount about the country because of my grandma, but once Graeme discovered my interest in all things Scottish, he’d often tell me snippets of trivia, history, and folklore, along with stories about his childhood in Skye, and his travels across the country.
When The Crew visited Scotland after graduation, Graeme was in his element showing us around, both in Edinburgh and beyond.
As much fun as he had then, I think we both enjoyed his time as my personal tour guide even more after everyone else left.
“You’re like a human heart-eyes emoji right now,” Drew says, linking her arm through mine and leaning against my shoulder to peer out the window.
She and Brodie sat in the row behind Fern and me for most of the seven-hour flight, but she slipped into the seat beside mine when Fern went to use the bathroom before breakfast was served.
I smile, unable to pry my eyes away from the view of the city, which is getting clearer and closer by the minute.
“You’re almost home, Abs,” Drew whispers, squeezing my arm.
Home. My eyes prickle with tears. I’ve never allowed myself to think of Scotland as home, despite the pull I’ve felt over the years, or the memories of how truly happy I was there.
Allowing myself to think about it would mean having to acknowledge that if I’d made different decisions fourteen years ago, Scotland could have been my home.
My stomach swoops. I tell myself it’s from the dip in altitude, but the truth is, my stomach has been in turmoil since the moment my friends presented me with that plane ticket last week.
After all, who wouldn’t feel a mix of nerves and anticipation when they would soon be faced with the one that got away?
The one they let get away.
* * *
I take a slow, deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air. This feels like the first unencumbered breath I’ve taken in weeks. Maybe even months. There’s not much of note to see directly outside Edinburgh Airport, but we’re here, and it feels as if a weight has been lifted off my chest.
Brodie arranged for a car service to pick us up, so we make our way to the passenger pick-up zone.
My eyes scan the surrounding area, taking in the people and vehicles, smiling to myself at the sight of steering wheels and drivers on the right side of the car.
It was something I never quite got used to on our first visit, and the others laughed at the number of times I attempted to get in the driver’s side, thinking it was the passenger seat.
A wave of nostalgia floods through me as I spot a bright blue crew van pull into one of the temporary parking spots.
During our visit fourteen years ago, Graeme borrowed a van just like that from his friend Rab so we’d have plenty of space to stretch out during road trips.
We spent a lot of hours in that van—which we nicknamed Hamish—sharing stories, blasting music, and making memories that still warm my heart to this day.
I catch Drew’s eye and point. “Guys, look, doesn’t that old van look like—”
The rest of the words die on my lips as the driver’s side door opens and Graeme steps out.
My feet and legs forget how to work as I trip on thin air and stumble forward.
Familiar cerulean eyes lock on mine, filled with concern over whatever they see on my face.
Graeme’s gaze darts away as Brodie, Drew, and Fern surge forward to greet him, the worry replaced by a smile so bright it makes my lungs tighten even further.
The sound of my friends’ voices and laughter is distorted, almost as if we’re underwater. I’ve had a week to prepare myself to see Graeme, but I never expected it would be this soon. He only recently moved back to Edinburgh after living in Skye for several years, so I assumed he’d be busy.
I’ve been equal parts excited and trepidatious about this trip.
Excited for obvious reasons, while nervous about not only seeing Graeme again but also wondering if being here would make my mental state worse by stirring up old regrets.
If it would highlight the life I could have had if I’d made different choices.
There’s also the fact Graeme and I didn’t leave things on the best of terms when we last saw each other at Drew and Brodie’s wedding.
Things were never the same between us after that, and as much as it hurt to lose him as a friend, I convinced myself it was a natural part of getting older and living in different countries, especially once we both got into relationships.
Sound and colour rush back into my awareness as Graeme suddenly appears in front of me.
His smile is as bright as it was when he greeted the others.
For some reason, the sight of it makes a giddy laugh slip past my lips.
His smile grows impossibly wider. His hair is a bit longer than his usual style, the tousled tresses threaded through with a few strands of silver.
He’s sporting a light layer of stubble, and the crinkles around his eyes and mouth have deepened, making him even more handsome than he was before.
God, he looks good. It’s really fucking unfair how good he looks.
I’m not the only one in assessing mode; Graeme is studying me closely too, seemingly taking in every inch in a way that makes my skin prickle.
I tell myself I’m imagining his hungry expression, but there’s no mistaking it.
I’ve seen that look before, have felt devoured by it.
It was usually followed by feeling devoured by the man himself, consumed by his mouth and hands, his skin pressed to mine, his...
Nope. Not going there. At least not right now, with our friends just a few feet away.
When Graeme’s eyes meet mine, a mix of emotions race across his face: relief, happiness, disbelief. I imagine all of it is mirrored in my own expression.
He laughs under his breath and shakes his head.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Pumpkin Spice.
” He holds out his arms, and I move forward without hesitation.
His tight embrace transports me back in time—the feel of his warm, solid body against mine; his familiar spicy musk scent; the way he presses his hands into my back.
“Sorry to break this up, you two, but we need to get moving,” Brodie calls. Over Graeme’s shoulder, Drew motions to the sign indicating the ten-minute limit for cars to stop here for pick-up.
I don’t meet Graeme’s eyes as he releases me.
I can’t. That doesn’t stop him from ushering me toward the van with his hand on the small of my back.
“Sit up front with me?” It’s a question, but he doesn’t wait for a response before he catches Brodie’s attention and says, “I need to speak to you for a minute before we get going.”
I pause outside the passenger side door when I realize my heart is pounding.
I suck in a breath, but it doesn’t have the same cleansing effect it did when we first stepped out of the airport.
I tell myself it’s because of the gasoline fumes lingering in the air, and has absolutely nothing to do with the tall, dark, and handsome Scot who’s owned a piece of my heart since the day we met.