Chapter 31
JANE
I watch Callum as he strides toward me, his face etched with a kind of worry I’ve never seen on him before. Beside me, Hamish chews lazily on a patch of grass, completely indifferent to the unfolding drama. Sheep have this enviable ability to not give a single damn about human existential crises.
—Jane, Callum says, stopping a few feet away, slightly out of breath. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.
—Well, you found me, I reply flatly. Congratulations.
—Jane, what you saw… it’s not what you think.
Ah yes. The classic line. The one in every script that features a romantic relationship right before the grand reconciliation. Except we’re not in a movie where everything gets resolved in three minutes of perfectly written dialogue.
—Really? Because what I saw looked a lot like your perfect ex-girlfriend glued to your lips. But maybe she was just checking if your wisdom teeth were still intact? She’s so thoughtful, that Heather.
He winces at my sarcasm.
—She kissed me without warning, Jane. I pushed her away immediately.
—Immediately after I caught you in your little private moment, you mean?
Hamish chooses that moment to bump his head gently against me, as if reminding me to breathe.
Callum takes a step closer, then stops again, uncertain.
—Jane, I swear I didn’t encourage anything. Heather came to talk to me about a professional project, and then she started talking about her feelings. I was explaining that I was happy with you when she threw herself at me.
Part of me wants to believe him. Another part—the more cautious one, shaped by years of disappointment in Hollywood—hears Alistair McKenzie’s voice in the back of my mind… A man incapable of real emotion.
—You know what’s funny? I say, lifting my phone slightly. I spent the day with a man who told me exactly that—that you’re incapable of real feelings for anyone. That our marriage is just a convenient transaction. And then I come home and find you with Heather.
His face pales.
—You were with who?
—Alistair McKenzie. He invited me to tour his distillery.
Callum’s fists clench, a vein pulsing at his temple.
—Alistair McKenzie contacted you directly? And you went without telling me?
—Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed my husband’s permission to leave the house, I snap. Besides, you were in meetings all day, weren’t you? Hard to consult you.
—This isn’t about permission, Jane. It’s about safety. McKenzie is my main business rival. He’s been trying for years to destabilize me—professionally and personally.
—And you don’t think that’s something you could’ve mentioned to me before? When exactly were you planning to tell me about your sworn enemies, Callum? After our fifth wedding anniversary?
I watch anger and frustration flicker across his face before giving way to something closer to resignation.
—You’re right, he admits, dragging a hand through his hair. I should have told you more about my professional life—about people like McKenzie. I… I’m used to handling those things on my own.
That simple admission disarms me a little—but not enough to let it go.
—What did he want? Callum asks, his voice edged with concern.
—To make me understand that our marriage is just a facade. That you’re incapable of love. Oh—and to offer himself as a sympathetic shoulder for the day I realize my life as a Scottish lady of the manor is just a gilded cage.
I let out a humorless laugh.
—The ironic part? He might be right. Maybe I’ve been telling myself stories, thinking our business arrangement turned into something real.
—Jane, Callum says, stepping closer again—this time with determination. Don’t let McKenzie manipulate you. That’s exactly what he wants. To plant doubt. To divide us.
—And Heather? Is she part of some grand conspiracy too?
He exhales slowly.
—No. Heather is acting for herself. She never accepted our breakup—let alone my marriage. She always believed she would become Lady McGregor one day.
—She’d make a much better Lady than me, I mutter despite myself.
—Is that really what you think?
—Look at her, Callum! She’s perfect. She knows every Scottish tradition, speaks with the perfect accent, knows which fork to use at your endless formal dinners—and unlike me, she’s never been afraid of a sheep in her life.
Hamish nudges me again, as if personally offended.
—Don’t worry, Hamish. You’re the exception.
Callum watches me with an unreadable expression, then—unexpectedly—bursts out laughing.
—You’re arguing with a sheep, Jane.
—So? He’s more reliable than most humans I’ve met today.
His laughter fades, replaced by something deeper—more intense.
—That’s not what I want, Jane. I don’t want a perfect woman. I don’t want someone who already knows all the traditions, who knows which fork to use, or who’s afraid of nothing.
He steps closer.
—I want the woman who turned a cold, austere castle into a place where people laugh. Who won over my grandmother with her wit—and even my mother with her determination. Who discovered she had a natural talent for archery… and who talks to sheep like they understand her.
I feel my resolve start to crack—but the image of him with Heather is still there, sharp and painful. And then…
—Max called me, I say abruptly.
His expression shifts.
—Max? Your agent?
—In the flesh.
I take a deep breath.
—He told me Martin Scorsese wants to meet me for a role. It’s… it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, Callum.
I watch his face close off, slipping into that neutral expression he uses when he wants to hide everything he’s feeling.
—I see, he says simply. And what did you tell him?
—That I needed to think. But casting starts in two weeks. If I want to go, I have to be in Los Angeles. Soon.
The word home almost slips out, but I catch myself. Is Los Angeles still home? I’m not so sure anymore.
—Is that what you want? he asks, his voice steady.
And there it is. The question.
Do I want to leave? To go back to my career? To walk away from this life I’ve started to build? From Callum?
Part of me is convinced he’d be relieved if I left. Heather is here—patient, perfect, ready to step back into place. He could return to his orderly, predictable life, without an American actress turning everything upside down.
It would be easier.
But I can’t say that out loud.
—I don’t know what I want, I admit. A few hours ago, I was certain I’d found my place here. Now…
I trail off, unable to put words to the chaos inside me.
—You think I’d be relieved if you left, don’t you? he says suddenly.
How did he—
—I… it would make sense, I deflect. Our marriage started as a practical arrangement. You got your inheritance. I got some respectability back. Mission accomplished, in a way.
—Is that really what you think? That everything between us—the cabin in the storm, our late-night conversations, our time together—that it was all just an extension of our original contract?
His voice wavers slightly, and I realize—too late—that I’ve hurt him.
—No, I don’t think that, I admit softly. But after everything that’s happened today, I don’t know what to think anymore. Alistair filled my head with doubts, then Heather, and now this opportunity out of nowhere…
—You’re right, he says, straightening slightly. You need time to think. It’s an important decision, and I don’t want you making it in the heat of the moment.
His tone turns formal—too formal. It sends a chill through me. This is the old Callum. The one who kept his distance. The one who analyzed everything.
—Callum—
—You should go inside. It’s getting cold, he cuts in. We’ll talk after dinner, when we’re both thinking more clearly.
—Alright, I say, thrown by the sudden shift. But Heather—
—I’ll take care of Heather, he says firmly.
And with that, he turns and walks away.
The distance between us stretches—not just physically, but emotionally. It feels like we’ve been pulled back months, to before everything changed. Before we let ourselves feel. Before we learned to trust each other.
—Callum! I call, unable to bear it.
He stops—but doesn’t turn.
—What do you want? I ask, my voice almost breaking. Do you want me to stay?
His shoulders tense. He stands there for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turns back to me.
—What I want doesn’t matter, Jane. This is your career. Your passion. Your life. I can’t ask you to give that up to continue a marriage that started as a business arrangement.
—That’s not what I asked, I insist. I want to know what you, Callum McGregor, want. Not what’s rational. Not what’s logical.
He looks at me for a long moment, conflict clear in his eyes. He’s never been good at this—at putting feelings into words.
—I want you to be happy, he says finally.
—That’s not an answer.
—It’s the only one I have right now.
And with that, he turns and heads back toward the castle, leaving me alone with Hamish—and my spiraling thoughts.
I stay beneath the willow for a while, trying to sort through everything.
A few months ago, Ryan’s offer would have been a dream come true.
I would’ve been on the first plane to Los Angeles without hesitation.
But now… the idea of leaving—of leaving this place, this life, of leaving Callum—feels like it might break me.
—What am I supposed to do, Hamish? I murmur.
Of course, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands, starts to walk away—then pauses, looking back at me as if to say are you coming?
—Even you’re abandoning me? I sigh dramatically.
But I follow him anyway.
Strangely, he doesn’t lead me back to the castle. Instead, he heads down a narrow path I’ve never taken before.
—Where are you taking me? I ask—but he keeps going.
Curious despite everything, I follow. The path winds through a small wooded area before opening onto a hill with a breathtaking view over the McGregor lands. The castle rises in the distance, fields stretching endlessly, and beyond them—a glimpse of the sea.
It’s stunning.
—Is this why you brought me here? To show me what I might be leaving?
Hamish simply lowers his head and keeps grazing, completely ignoring me.
I sit on a rock, taking in the view. For the first time since Ryan’s call, I actually let myself think.
Los Angeles represents my career, my ambitions—the life I had planned. It’s exciting, fast-paced, full of opportunity. But it’s also superficial, ruthless. A place where relationships can be as artificial as a red carpet smile.
Scotland… has become something else entirely. More than a backdrop for an arranged marriage. It’s where I found a family—even if it’s a chaotic one. Where I discovered parts of myself I didn’t know existed. Where I learned to appreciate silence. Simplicity.
And then there’s Callum…
My phone vibrates again, pulling me from my thoughts.
Keira
Dinner in 30 minutes. Heather’s gone (Callum was VERY clear about that), and the vibe is weird. Where are you? I need backup.
I smile despite everything.
Keira
I stand, casting one last look at the view. Hamish watches me, as if waiting for a decision.
—I still don’t know what to do, I admit quietly. But thank you… for the perspective.
I head back toward the castle, my mind still tangled—but with one thing finally clear.
Whatever I decide…
It won’t be because of Alistair McKenzie.
Or Heather.
It will be because of me.