Chapter 19 Miles
MILES
We lie next to each other, her leg draped over mine, my hand moving over the soft skin of her back. Voices from the street have gotten louder in the last twenty minutes as more and more people spill out of the bar, but I’m not ready to let the world in yet.
Skye must hear them too because she says, “I hate to say this, but we have to be back at the pub when the whole crew leaves. You came in the van.”
My fingers wander up her spine. “I could text Elsie that I got another ride?”
“Not from me,” she says quickly. “Billy. You could tell her Billy drove you back. He’s always giving strays rides.”
“We have the weekend off. I could even say I went on a little research trip to gain some perspective on the role. My character is a real loner.”
She sits up, her hair cascading over her shoulder and catching the light. “The whole weekend?”
I sit up too. “Could you? I know you have obligations.”
A slow smile spreads across her face.“I could text Dad. Say I have a writing class in Edinburgh, or something. He should be able to do my chores for a couple of days. I haven’t taken a break in a long time. Do you think it’ll look too suspicious, us both being gone on the same weekend?”
It will. But at this point I’m not sure that I care. “Maybe a little, but they can’t prove we were together. I’ll make it worth it.”
I snuggle into her neck, kissing the spot behind her ear that I know drives her wild. We both fall back onto the bed.
She laughs. “Okay. We can’t stay here, though. There are too many people I know all over this town.”
“With the weekend off, the crew might be around more, too,” I say. “So where do we go?”
She gets up and grabs her phone. “Let’s text all our people we need to. We can stay here tonight and figure out where to go in the morning.”
We sleep in, a luxury for us both. When we finally peel our bodies away from each other, we make a plan to go to the Isle of Skye.
It seems only fitting. We are in the Land Rover, the morning mist clinging to the green hills, fiery orange trees, and the loch.
It makes everything look eerie. I can see why Skye writes mysteries, being surrounded by this murky landscape.
“Blackbird” plays softly over the stereo.
The only thing that would make this perfect would be a steaming cup of coffee.
We are on our way to Inverness now to pick up some, along with food and other essentials.
Stopping at the Thistle House would’ve been too suspicious looking, obviously.
Skye is singing along quietly. Her red hair is in a messy bun, with one strand escaping and trailing down her long neck. “Are you named after the island?”
"I was apparently conceived there on my mother’s first trip to Scotland," she says, making a puckered face of disgust, and a booming laugh escapes me, the sound echoing off the roof. Skye joins in. "TMI, right?"
I nod. “Definitely. That’s nice though, that your parents were…um…passionate. How did they meet?”
Skye keeps her eyes focused on the road, a small smile playing at her lips.
“In Hollywood. My dad moved there for a while wanting to be an actor. Mom was performing at some little dive bar. He sat in the front and cheered so loud it shook the floorboards, according to my mom. He bought her a drink and the rest is history.”
The corners of her mouth turn down. She seems so lost in thought, I decide not to ask any follow-up questions.
We make a quick stop at the shopping center in Inverness.
I want to make it into more of a Pretty Woman shopping spree, but Skye insists we just grab some essentials.
She doesn’t argue with getting some books for the trip, though.
We have to pick them up from the stand in the market because the cool bookstore with the wood-burning stove hasn’t opened yet for the day.
I grab the latest Ruth Ware. She chooses the new Jasmine Guillory book.
For a mystery writer, she sure reads a lot of romance.
We drop off our bags and head to a coffee shop. I adjust my purple hat more snugly on my head.
“It’s just over here.” She holds my hand and pulls me along.
I intertwine my fingers with hers, which makes her smile.
“What’s with the hat?”
I smile. “It’s so I won’t be recognized.”
She laughs. “You think that purple tourist hat hides the fact that you are Miles Casey, movie star extraordinaire?”
I shrug. “You’d be surprised.”
She leads me to a large stone building on the corner, painted cobalt blue.
A matching blue sign hanging overhead reads Velocite (for the love of bikes).
Little yellow planters line the door, and a chalkboard propped against the building says they’re open.
My mouth is already watering at the smell of coffee.
As we walk in, a man with a slick black pompadour behind the counter sings out, “Hello.”
The inside is just as charming as the outside, with a long, light wooden bar in the front and matching tables scattered around, half of them filled. A bicycle hangs from the ceiling. I’m still staring at it, trying to figure out how they hung it exactly, as we approach the counter.
“I’ll have an Americano with a splash of frothed milk and a halloumi bagel, to go, please. Miles, what would you like?”
I look at the takeaway menu and am debating between the pizza bagel or the squash and pesto bagel, when I realize the man who vaguely resembles Elvis hasn’t stopped staring at me. Even though I know it’s coming, I plow ahead. “I’ll have the squash and pesto bagel and a latte. Thanks.”
“You’re Miles Casey.”
I smile and nod, ignoring Skye whispering beside me, “Clearly the hat didn’t work this time.”
“I love you.” Skye smirks, and Elvis backpeddles. “Your films, I mean.” He seems to have found himself again and mercifully starts making our drinks as he talks. “Oh, who am I kidding. No one.” He sings again. “I love you. I’ve seen every movie you’ve ever made. You are magnificent.”
Skye’s smile is now reaching from ear to ear. Elvis puts the bagels into a bag and goes back to fiddling with the espresso machine.
“Thank you.”
Elvis hands our bagels and drinks over the counter, then frantically looks around. “Wait, will you sign…” He pulls his phone out of his apron pocket. “Will you sign my phone?”
I laugh. This is a first. “You want me to sign your phone?”
He shakes his head. “Or a selfie. We could take a selfie—or an ‘usie,’ as it were.”
I nod. “Sure.” He hands the phone to Skye and comes around the counter. We stand side by side, just about the same height, in front of the pastry case.
“Say cheers.” Skye presses the phone screen a couple more times. Elvis throws his arm around my shoulder and hugs me closer to him. Some of the other patrons have their phones out now, too. It’s time to go.
I hold out my hand to Elvis. “So nice to meet you.”
Elvis is fanning himself with one hand. Skye hands his phone back.
We take our breakfast. Once we are in the car with both doors shut, Skye starts laughing.
“I’m surprised he didn’t turn around and kiss you.”
I laugh, but that has happened before. “What can I say? I have enthusiastic fans.” Then I remember the dance that she and Kate choreographed. “Fans who make up dances to the theme songs of my movies and watch them over and over with their best friend.”
She turns on the car and immediately turns up the stereo. “All right, all right. We’ve heard about enough of that. Bloody Kate.”
I laugh, but it hits me how close we came to being busted. What if he had taken a picture of Skye and me? What if someone else had and we hadn’t noticed? I duck down a little more in my seat. “We should probably be more careful, though.”
Skye nods, her eyes on the road.
The drive is gorgeous. Lush green hills, massive clouds, and pale-blue sky just peeking out from behind it. We take a turn, and off in the distance, I spot a herd of deer. The buck stands at attention, lifting its head to us as we pass, his massive antlers reaching up to the heavens.
“Look!” I point them out to Skye.
She glances over and nods. “Red deer. Gorgeous, aren’t they?”
“They are. Honestly, I’ve been all over the world, but I’ve never been somewhere quite so captivating as here. But maybe it’s the company.”
Skye barks out a surprised laugh. “Wooo, that’s quite a line.”
She pulls the car over. I check to make sure there are no other cars nearby, no one that could spot us and sell their story to YHF.
But there’s nothing and no one as far as the eye can see.
I hop out and take my phone out, snapping some pictures.
Skye comes and stands next to me. I turn my phone on her and snap a few pics.
Her red hair stands out against the green hills and the gray clouds.
She flips me off, and I keep taking photos until she tries to grab my phone.
I pull her to me instead, wrapping my arms around her.
I smile. “Have you traveled much?”
Skye shakes her head. “I went to New York.”
“I was born in Brooklyn. It still feels like home, even though I’ve lived in LA for a lot longer than I ever lived there.” I shake my head. That doesn’t even feel right to say. “What took you to New York?”
Skye keeps her eyes on the deer, her face nestled on my chest. “A boy. Finn. We’d known each other since we were kids, started dating when I was fifteen and he was sixteen.
Everyone thought we were made for each other.
People talked about us like we were already married.
Finn was—well, for all I know, he still is a musician.
He wanted to go to New York and start a proper band.
We went once we were old enough to be on our own, but it was very clear to me that I needed to go home.
Then my dad called. My mom was sick. I came home, we broke up, and Mom died.
All in all, it took about three months for my life to be completely unrecognizable from what it was before. ”