Chapter Fifteen
Landon paced back and forth in front of Tesco’s on Holyrood trying very hard not to look at his watch.
Like a princess and a pea, the star sapphire he’d stored under the mattress had upset his already restless sleep and led to strange dreams that he woke from frequently.
He’d set his alarm for five, but his body hadn’t needed it.
By four a.m. he was wired, ready for the damned sun to rise so he could begin the hard work of feeling better.
He’d packed his suitcase sloppily, but he had brought one warm fleece, a pair of blue jeans, and wool socks, which he thought would work in a pinch for this hike.
Besides, he’d never much minded the cold.
It was the heat that bothered him, the way the sweat stuck his hair to his face.
In this one way, at least, the city suited him.
Familiar fingers danced on his back.
“Morning,” Rose said, with such genuine cheer Landon momentarily forgot the storm Poppy had set off within him. He turned on his heel, hoping her face would ground rather than unsettle him.
She was dressed head to toe in outdoor apparel, the Patagonia label on her fleece lending her the look of a seasoned hiker.
That was one thing his Rose had not been—at least not in their later years.
Their time in the suburbs had changed her; made her soft.
A “fair-weather hiker,” she’d called herself.
Landon could still summon the feeling of being trapped in the house with her on warm autumn mornings, desperate to leave but obliged to stay.
“I was hoping I didn’t get out of bed for nothing.”
Rose smiled. “It’s never for nothing.” It was such a simple statement that Landon was embarrassed it almost brought him to his knees.
But of course, Rose had taken the pill, and her mornings were filled with promise.
Landon wondered what it felt like to wake each morning without the soul-crushing weight of every wrong decision, every terrible action, every horrible mistake hanging over you—then remembered that Jamie had taken the pill, too.
“I do love getting up in the morning.” The words felt as contrived as they were, but if Rose noticed, she didn’t call attention to it.
“Sometimes I can’t sleep because I just can’t wait for another day to start.” His Rose had never been charmed by the morning, nor particularly charming upon waking. The thought made him smile.
“Should we grab some waters before we head out and up?” he asked, pointing toward the sleepy grocery store. “And maybe some coffee?”
“Among other things,” Rose said, moving toward two sliding glass doors and waving Landon on behind her. “I promised you’d fall in love with this city today, so we’re going to have to pull out all the stops.”
His heart pitter-pattered. “You never mentioned anything about falling in love.”
“I didn’t?” she asked, twirling around on the slippery linoleum and flashing him a mischievous smile. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag now, I guess.”
A red shopping basket resting in the crook of her arm, Rose swept the produce aisle, testing bright yellow apples for firmness and light orange peaches for softness before tossing them in.
Landon trailed behind as she selected an assortment of flaky pastries fresh out of the oven, a soft and a hard cheese, a bottle of orange juice, and, finally, a frosty bottle of champagne.
“Champagne at six in the morning?” Landon asked.
“Why not?” Rose asked. “Besides, it will be at least a respectable seven a.m. when we make it to the top.”
Landon considered what he might say if he’d woken up in the same headspace that she had. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
At the till, Landon held out a twenty-pound note but Rose brushed it away. “My treat,” she said. “We’ll need cash later, anyway.”
In his logical, reasonable brain, Landon knew this was not a date. So why did it feel like one? Butterflies rustled in his stomach. “For what?”
“You’re not getting me to give away my secrets that easily,” she quipped, stuffing each carefully chosen item into her backpack.
It was still pitch-black when the glass doors released them back into the early morning.
A few windows showed signs of life, occupants waking to head to work or school.
But for the most part, Landon and Rose were the only two people foolish enough to willingly leave their beds.
Landon could just make out the craggy peak in the dark, the dormant volcano rising high above the apartment and university buildings.
“So how strenuous is this?” he asked. He didn’t consider himself out of shape, because that would imply that he’d ever been in.
With legs as long as his, Landon had always been able to fake it to a certain extent.
“It’s not bad,” Rose said. “We can take our time, stop as much as you want.” Landon decided he would fake it as hard as he ever had. Date or not, he wanted to make a good first impression. This was his chance.
The sky turned from black to gray as shops and residences gave way to Holyrood Palace, its turrets silhouetted against the lightening sky. “You know the history?” Rose asked.
Landon had seen the palace advertised in brochures at the hostel, the cost of high tea in the courtyard staggering to him. “Not really,” he said.
“Mary, Queen of Scots lived here.” Rose’s voice picked up a singsong quality that was so lively, the corner of Landon’s cheeks rose.
“This is where she watched her husband murder her secretary, right in front of her. Of course, there’s speculation that she loved him, and that’s why her husband stabbed the man fifty-six times.
Legend says the blood that seeped into the floorboards left a stain that’s still there, if you know what you’re looking for. ” She laughed. “The height of romance.”
“Jesus,” Landon said. “Fifty-six times?”
“I’m just repeating what I’ve been told.”
“They charge eighty pounds per person for high tea at a haunted castle?”
“This entire city is haunted. That’s part of the charm.”
“You believe in ghosts?” Landon couched his question innocently, but it was anything but.
“I don’t not believe in them,” she said.
“That’s not really an answer.”
“Do you?”
Landon was a rational man, often to a fault.
But as he’d grown older, he’d found too many things unexplainable not to entertain the notion.
Then there was the matter of the ghosts in the house when Rose left.
He’d felt them, clawing at the door of his bedroom when he couldn’t sleep at night. “Yes,” he said.
“You’ll fit right in, then.”
Rose and Landon fell into a companionable silence.
The trail was damp, the ground slick with dew.
Landon’s sneakers had almost no tread, and he hoped he wouldn’t make a fool of himself—falling from his height was always more dramatic than he liked.
At times, he found uneven steps carved into the rock that helped him on his way.
They were crusted with frost, though Landon hadn’t thought it cold enough yet for such a show.
Higher up, with nothing to block it, the wind seeped through Landon’s fleece. His muscles were stiff and toes frozen. “You okay back there?” Rose called.
Landon gave her his best approximation of a jaunty wave. “All good!” he yelled. By the time they reached the summit, their faces were burned red, their breath white from the cold. But the wind had died down enough they could speak without shouting.
“I did this hike every morning all summer,” Rose said.
“It must have looked different.”
Rose pointed to the shrubby flowers scattered along the hillside. “The gorse was in full bloom. Everything was bright yellow. They’re on their way out now.”
“Sounds beautiful.”
“This is beautiful, too,” Rose said, sitting down on the frosty ground. She opened her backpack and pulled out the champagne and orange juice. “And what did I tell you? Seven a.m. on the dot.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Landon said, cringing.
Rose riffled through the backpack, pulling out the pastries, cheese, and fruit. “I forgot cups.”
“We’ll manage.”
She eased the cork out of the champagne bottle with a pop, shrieking with delight when the bubbles sprayed and stuck to her face.
“A make-your-own-mimosa bar.” She took a long sip of the champagne and cracked the top of the orange juice, tipping it back and adding it to the bubbles in her mouth.
Then she shook her head furiously and swallowed. “Ah!” Rose breathed. “Perfect.”
Landon did not want a mimosa but knew that was just himself talking.
“My turn,” he said, grasping the champagne bottle in one hand and the orange juice in the other.
He tipped both into his mouth, the sticky juices running down his fleece.
He would smell like champagne until he found his way to a laundromat, but it was all worth it for the look on Rose’s face.
He could take one thousand life drawing classes and never accurately capture that joy.
“It’s coming,” she said. Then her hand found his.
Had she meant to? Their fingers intertwined like they had so many times before.
Rose held tight, and he could feel their hearts synching up, practiced as they were in latching on to the same beat.
“Don’t blink,” she said, squeezing his hand and sending his heart rate rocketing past hers.
He wouldn’t have blinked if he’d been offered a kingdom on a silver platter.
Slowly, the light came. Purple turned to pink, then gold, then yellow, like the gorse that would once again flourish in the hills come springtime.
Rose gripped Landon’s hand tighter. “It’s like I’m seeing it for the first time,” she said.
“How does it always feel I’m seeing it again for the first time? ”
“Because we’re lucky,” Landon said. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He rolled his shoulders, begging his body to stay in control a few minutes longer.
“Can I tell you something awful?” Rose asked. Landon froze.
“Sure,” he said. “Try me.” But inside, he was a hurricane.
Inside, all he could hear was the whoosh of the wind and Poppy’s voice, high and shrill, whistling in his ears.
How many times had Rose asked him that same question, with just this intonation?
How many times had he been her safe space, holding feelings too big for her to hold on her own?
“I don’t ever want to stop feeling this way.
” Rose took another long swig of champagne, then pointed at Landon to pass her the orange juice.
“I’ve already thought about what I’ll do when the side effects wear off.
And I know I can’t predict the future, and maybe things will change, but right now I’m sure I would take the pill again. ”
Landon’s heart conspired to beat clear out of his chest. “That’s not so awful,” he lied.
“I’d forget everyone,” she said. “I’d forget Graham.”
Graham, who she’d only been dating a few months and already allowed to try out a word like soulmate in front of a man she’d just met. “Do you feel like you really know him?” Clang, clang, clang. He was playing with fire.
“I’m starting to.” She stared off over the city.
“But I can’t imagine waking up and not feeling like this.
I just can’t imagine feeling so…” She held out her hands like she might find the word on the wind, flexing her long fingers this way and that.
Landon tried not to stare but couldn’t stop himself in the end.
His Rose had turned her hands like that once before, to get a better view of the star inside his grandmother’s ring.
It would have looked beautiful here in the day’s first light.
“Burdened,” she finally settled on. “I don’t want to feel any weight at all.
I want to be so light I could fly away.” Rose stretched out her arms like a bird.
Landon envied her. Jamie understood her. He stretched his arms out, too. “I’d be sad if you forgot me.”
Rose laughed and took a long drink from the dwindling champagne bottle. “You could just take another pill, too.”
“Sure,” he said. “Good point.” What would it feel like, he wondered, to owe nothing to anybody?
The last time he’d felt that way, he’d been a child.
Though Landon had to admit that there, right then, he didn’t feel quite so heavy.
Maybe it was just the champagne, or maybe he’d breathed in so much thin, cold air that he was no longer thinking straight.
Regardless, it felt good. He felt good. And he had Rose to thank.