CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ~ ABBY ~ FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
Until recently, I don’t ever remember waking up with a smile on my face, but it’s become a regular occurrence since I’ve been in Scotland.
I lie in bed with my eyes closed, soaking in my surroundings with only my senses.
Graeme’s arm is around me, and our legs are tangled.
His chest hair tickles my bare back as he takes slow, even breaths.
The glow beyond my eyelids tells me the sun is shining, and I can hear faint traffic noises and the occasional sound of raised voices from the Royal Mile.
And then my smile fades when it hits me that today is my last day in Scotland. Tomorrow at this time, I’ll be at the airport, waiting to board a flight to Toronto. The thought makes my heart squeeze with panic, so I shove those thoughts aside and focus on this moment instead.
My time in Scotland has been life-changing, especially the last two weeks with Graeme.
We’ve been inseparable since the night we first slept together.
We spend our days wandering the city and taking short road trips.
We’ve eaten delicious food, danced to live music in pubs, and explored tourist attractions and hidden gems alike.
Our conversations range from surface-level to deep and meaningful, although we’re careful not to talk too much about the future.
Each night when we return to Graeme’s flat, we’re both happy and exhausted.
We’re never too tired to explore each other’s bodies or lie awake talking much later than we should, considering how early our days begin.
It’s like we’re making up for lost time and wringing out every single drop of our time together.
We’ve agreed not to think of the last few years as wasted time that we could have been a couple.
Our friendship and the bond we’ve formed is priceless.
There’s no way to know if we would have worked as a couple when we first met, or at any point up until now.
I didn’t think we could be any closer than we were, but this time on our own has proved me wrong.
It’s impossible to put into words how our connection feels deeper and more layered.
My nerves mostly dissipated after our first night together, and now I feel like I know Graeme’s body almost as well as I know my own.
We always had an easy affection, but now we take any and every excuse to touch each other.
I’m living for all the random finger brushes, cuddles, and hand holding.
Every touch lights me on fire, even the simplest, most innocent ones.
This is a side of myself I never knew existed until now, and I like it.
“I can practically hear you thinking, love.” Graeme’s voice is gravelly in my ear. It makes me shiver, the way it always does. The soft huff of his laughter tells me he felt it.
I roll over to face him. Warmth spreads through me at the sight of his tousled hair and sleepy smile. My gaze drifts to his shoulder, and I suppress a smile of my own when I spy the marks my nails left on his skin last night.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispers.
I don’t want to leave. I love you. How am I supposed to live without you? I don’t say any of that, though. Instead, I default to a safe topic. “I’m thinking about our plans for today.”
We’re going to Dean Village and the National Portrait Gallery, and then plan to spend the rest of the day wandering and stopping anywhere that looks interesting. Graeme suggested we end the day on Calton Hill with the hope Edinburgh will bid me farewell with a beautiful sunset.
I don’t think I’m imagining the disappointment that flits across his features. I feel bad for not saying what I was really thinking, but we agreed not to go there. Saying goodbye is already going to be painful enough.
“I guess we should get going,” he says.
I hum in agreement. Rather than making any move to get out of bed, I trail my fingers over his bare arm, fascinated by the way such a seemingly innocent touch can cause goosebumps to race along his skin.
I meet his eyes as my fingers glide over his collarbone and down his chest. He’s watching me closely, the blue of his eyes quickly disappearing as his pupils dilate.
“I know we should go, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to try...” I rock against him where he’s growing hard. His groan turns to a sound of surprise as I shove him onto his back and straddle him. “This okay?”
He lets out a choked laugh as his eyes rake hungrily over my naked body. “Are you kidding? I’m wondering if I’m still asleep and dreaming.” His eyes return to mine as he lifts his hips to create friction where our bodies meet. “Don’t wake me if I am.”
* * *
“Don’t tell the others, but Mother Nature is putting on a show just for you,” Graeme whispers in my ear, tightening his hold on me from behind.
The golden-hour glow on Calton Hill brought tears to my eyes, and now the vibrant pinks and purples of sunset have left me speechless.
We’ve managed to catch some beautiful sunsets in the last few weeks, despite all the fog and dreary weather, but none of them compare to tonight’s spectacle.
Graeme’s right: it does feel like it’s just for me.
A curtain call of sorts from the city I’ve fallen in love with.
Despite the other people enjoying the view, it feels like Graeme and I are the only ones here. Today passed in a flash, and I’ve found myself growing more and more emotional with each passing hour.
I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it until Graeme asks, “You all right? I know that’s likely a foolish question, but...”
“I was just thinking of this song my grandma used to sing to me,” I say, my voice wavering. “It’s called ‘Mockin’ Bird Hill’. I haven’t heard it in years, but I still remember all the words.”
“What made you think of it now?” he asks.
I sing the line about a woman climbing the hill late in the evening to survey her kingdom while everything is still.
I shouldn’t have attempted to sing it with my voice wobbling the way it is, so it comes out sounding more mournful than joyful.
I clear my throat and swallow hard past the lump forming there.
“I feel like that’s what we’re doing. Like we’re the only two people in the world, and this ancient, beautiful city that’s been our playground for the last few weeks is our kingdom. ”
Graeme turns me in his arms, and I bury my face in his chest, letting the tears fall.
A lifetime of practice has made me a pro at burying my emotions, so I’ve done a decent job of ignoring the whirlpool of complicated feelings that’s been growing as my time here gets shorter and shorter.
But I can’t ignore it now. My body shakes with the force of my sobs.
Graeme’s quiet sniffles tell me I’m not the only one who’s crying.
Unlike the little voice in the back of my head, Graeme doesn’t tell me I’m missing the sunset or wasting time that would be better spent doing literally anything other than having a meltdown.
He doesn’t try to verbally soothe me or assure me everything will be okay.
He simply holds me close, stroking my back with one hand.
By the time I collect myself, the front of Graeme’s shirt is covered in tears and snot. “Gross, I’m sorry,” I murmur, making it worse when I attempt to wipe it away.
“It’s nae bother,” he says. For some reason, this draws a watery laugh from me.
Graeme smiles, although it’s a pale imitation of his usual bright smile.
He cups my face in both hands and wipes my tears with his thumbs.
“It’s taking everything in me not to beg you to stay, Abby.
If I thought I could convince you, I’d do or say just about anything.
I know you’re set on going back to Canada, though. ”
“If I didn’t have a whole new life lined up—”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “I know, love. I really do understand. I hate it, but I understand.”
“I just don’t want you to think it has anything to do with you, or that this is an easy decision for me. Believe me, I wish I were the type of person who could throw caution to the wind, say ‘fuck it’ to everything, and just move here.”
“But you’re not, and I get that,” Graeme says. “I want to make it clear that I love you, and if you change your mind for any reason, I’m here. Our kingdom is here.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. My mouth opens and closes, but no words form past the lump in my throat.
The tears welling in Graeme’s eyes, paired with the mix of anguish and disappointment on his face, make it hard to breathe.
Sometimes I wonder why he loves me. How he can love me.
Over the years, he’s helped me collect my broken pieces and fit them together, but moments like this remind me I’m still broken.
I’ve felt more whole in Scotland than I ever have in my life, but instead of fighting for the place and the person I love, I’m running to an unknown life in an unfamiliar city.
And for what? Because it feels safer and smarter to follow The Plan than to let myself be happy?
If I were Graeme, I would hate me. And yet, the love shining in his eyes is as clear as the twilight sky over Edinburgh. He presses his lips to mine in a too-brief kiss, and then releases me to swipe roughly at the tears on his cheeks. “We should get going. That four a.m. wake-up is going to hurt.”
We agreed this morning that we’d have an early night since I have to be at the airport by seven o’clock tomorrow.
Some desperate part of me wants to suggest we continue pretending there’s no end date, and go on living in this fantasy until the very last second.
We could stay out as late as possible, go from pub to pub, drinking and dancing and listening to live music.
We could make out in dark corners and against the rough stone of centuries-old buildings.
Hell, we could return to Greyfriars one last time and reenact our first kiss over and over until the sun comes up.