HUGH
After Amira left, I thought Sam and I would have more chances to spend some time together.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t like that.
My trainer had not only cut a consistent amount of calories from my diet, he had also increased the frequency of my training sessions and now insisted on me training during the weekend, as well. The last thing I wanted to do after a long week was get up early and leave my Sam alone in bed. I would have much rather buried myself in her than have to get out and work my arse off at the gym.
I wanted to take another walk in the heather just like we had a couple of weeks before, but we never had a chance.
On top of everything else, when I asked her about wedding plans, she always sounded evasive, although she did say she had talked to the attorney and we were close to obtaining the necessary paperwork for a license.
We’d gone to Edinburgh on a Saturday to sign the deed for the cottage. The lawyer, Damon, was an old friend of mine from when my family used to live in town, and he didn’t make too much of a big deal about having to meet us during the weekend. That being said, I could tell he was recovering from a long, drunken night by the disheveled way he looked when we met up with him.
After we signed the papers, he invited us to go out with him, and I was half embarrassed when I had to explain I was on a new regimen and couldn’t go out and drink. He assured Sam and me that he would take care of the paperwork for the marriage license, but we hadn’t heard anything back yet. I considered giving him a call, but when I mentioned it to Sam, she assured me she’d been in touch with him and there was nothing new to report. “Besides,” she’d said, “since we won’t have time to get married until next summer, it won’t matter whether we can have a license now or not because they’re only valid for a few weeks.”
We had completed the first month of shooting and wrapped the first two episodes of season two. The next few months were going to be even more challenging because of what was going to happen with Abarath’s storyline. My diet and the training were weighing on me, and I didn’t have time to make plans with Sam about our wedding.
I realized how cranky I sounded, when I really shouldn’t have.
True, I was having to make some sacrifices, but I was also living my dream, and every night I shared a bed with the woman I loved.
Still, it was hard to always have a positive attitude. There were days when exhaustion could easily turn me into a grumpy jerk. To make things worse, Sam seemed to spend way too much time with Fern the intern.
It seemed I could hardly get a moment alone with Sam on the set—Fern was always around.
Whenever I’d look her way or go to the makeup trailer, the two of them would always be engrossed in a hushed conversation about . . . something, sometimes giggling, laughing together like old friends. When I’d ask what it was about, Sam would always reply with some makeup lingo and procedures I didn’t know anything about.
I couldn’t help it—I was suspicious. The guy was good-looking and sharply dressed, and for some ridiculous reason was always buzzing around my beautiful fiancée.
I shouldn’t have been jealous. I should have been trusting.
I knew Sam would never betray me, knew she wasn’t the type of person to do that.
But I couldn’t help it.
“Why is Fern always around?” I finally asked her one Friday evening while we were on our way to the pub. Fern came two to three times a week and stayed for a few hours, but he would only work with Sam. He followed her wherever she went, meaning he followed her on set and even watched when she did touchups.
“Who?” she asked with an air of confusion.
“Fern. Why is he always around? Why is he always working with you? Why can’t he work with someone else?” I snapped.
Sam let out a laugh. “You’re kidding!”
“I’m really not. I’m dead serious. I can’t even have a conversation with you anymore because the bloody bloke is always around!” I said, the tone of my voice going involuntarily higher. It seemed I couldn’t control it.
“Hugh, he only comes twice a week, three at the most. You have plenty of time to talk to me during the other days. Besides, this is not something I decided. The network wanted to do this, and I think it’s a great opportunity for Scottish students. Don’t be so daft!”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you!” I yelled, despite my better judgment.
“You can’t be serious,” she said in a low voice, disappointment clouding her features.
“Don’t tell me I’m wrong. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He fancies you!”
“You’re ridiculous. I’m pretty sure Fern is gay—not that I’ve asked him, because it’s none of my business—but honestly? I’m disappointed in you. Do you really think I would cheat on you? With him? Under your nose?”
“Don’t tell me it’s not possible, Sam. Didn’t the same thing happen to you? Wasn’t your boyfriend cheating right under your nose?”
She shot me an angry look. “I can’t believe you just said that to me. How could you? Do you really think I would ever do anything like that to you?”
Shite. I was fucking everything up.
“No, no,” I replied. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that I don’t trust you . . . I don’t trust him.”
“But if you do trust me, there shouldn’t be any problems whatsoever. I love you, and I would never do something like that to you. If you don’t know that by now, if you don’t trust me enough to know nothing is going to happen, I don’t know what the point of getting married is.”
The harshness of her words cut like a knife. No, this wasn’t what I wanted. I knew I was overreacting, but it was as if I were spiraling and couldn’t stop.
“No, Sam, I trust you.”
“Do you? Because that doesn’t sound like it at all.”
“Mo chridhe, I’m sorry. I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Yeah, but you did. Those were harsh words MacLeod.”
I tried to take her hand as we continued toward the pub, but she pushed mine away.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, even though I knew it wasn’t going to fix things, not right away, anyway.
She stopped in her tracks before we approached the door of the pub.
“You know, one of these days you’ll realize how terribly wrong you are and you will feel so stupid—seriously, so stupid—and you know what? I can’t wait for you to admit how wrong you were.”
I already felt like an arse, knew I had royally screwed up, so I didn’t say anything. I simply nodded and gave her a cautious look.
“You’re right. Can I hold your hand now?” I asked tentatively.
She stared at me with narrowed eyes. “No, you can’t.”
She entered the pub, waved to our friends, and headed to the bar without waiting for me. From a distance, I saw her order and down a drink before going over to Philip, the guy in charge of karaoke.
Mika saw me and came over to say hi. He patted me on the back.
“What’s up, man?”
“Not much. Making an arse of myself, mostly.”
Mika noticed me watching Sam, and probably saw her shoot me an angry look from the other side of the pub.
“Fuck, man. What did you do?”
“Not what I did, more what I said. Should have kept my bloody mouth shut.”
“Come on, let’s have a drink.”
“All right, just one though—Winston will have a cow if I get drunk and get off his strict regimen.”
We ordered whisky at the bar, and while I sipped, I felt everyone’s eyes on me. Sam and I rarely had a row, so I knew everyone could tell something was off. Then when I turned around and saw that Sam had taken the stage, things only got worse.
“This is for you, Hugh MacLeod,” she said, but something in her tone was off. Her voice was cold and distant.
This wasn’t going to be good.
When I recognized the song—“Borderline” by Madonna—I felt everyone’s eyes on me even more. I got so uncomfortable, I almost wanted to jet out of the place. She wasn’t going to let me down easy. Admittedly, I deserved it.
She sang the entire song while staring at me, looking proud and focused.
At some point, I raised my glass to her and took a drink of whisky.
I was hoping my gesture would make her smile, but it didn’t work. She narrowed her eyes at me even more.
I wanted her to forgive me, but I wasn’t going to humiliate myself. If this kind of “shaming” was the sort of punishment she had in mind, I was gladly going to put up with it.
Everyone cheered when the song was over, and for a moment I thought I’d have to chase her out of the pub and apologize profusely. Instead, she surprised me again.
She walked toward me and stopped a few inches away. I stepped forward and placed my hands around her waist then leaned down and kissed her forehead slowly, tentatively.
“I’m really sorry for what I said, Sam,” I whispered in her ear.
“If you ever act like a jealous grouch again, I swear I’ll knee you in the balls,” she threatened.
Ouch.
“You have my word,” I told her, and then I sealed my promise with a kiss.
Later that night, it was all forgotten. It was almost as if nothing had happened.
By the grace of God, Sam was sweet and loving as ever. She might have been furious a couple of hours before, but any trace of bitterness was gone. I couldn’t deny how relieved I was.
While I couldn’t drink much, everyone around me kept drinking merrily, including Sam, and I had to admit I was a wee bit jealous. Winston’s program was taking a toll on me. Drinking out together was our way to unwind after a long week, and it wasn’t very much fun to make one drink last while everyone else kept downing their glasses. Mika and Frank in particular had one too many, and were trying to get me to join them on a bike ride the next day.
“You two will be too hungover! You’re not going to be able to bike down the hill to save yer life!”
Mika raised one eyebrow. “Want to make things interesting? I bet you twenty quids I’ll go faster than you, uphill or downhill. You down for it?”
“Sure, why not. Twenty quids.” We clinked glasses and I took another—small—sip of my whisky. I glanced to my side and found Sam, Cecilia, Blair, and the newest addition of the crew, Gretchen, engaged in a heated conversation.
“All I’m saying is that I don’t think anyone has ever spoken the words ‘Oh my gosh, I am so sick of this song.’ That song is a freaking classic. You could make me listen to it a hundred times in a row and I wouldn’t be sick of it. I’ve been listening to it since I was a teen, and it still gives me chills.” Sam was arguing with Cecilia about something.
“Oh, bloody hell, don’t tempt me. You know I love a challenge.” Cecilia bumped her shoulder against Sam, and then clinked her glass with the one my girl was holding.
“Ha! Do you?” Sam replied in a mocking tone. They narrowed their eyes at each other and scrunched their noses playfully, as they often did. Cecilia was a constant tease, and Sam was a good sport, most of the time. The interactions between them were like those of two sisters. In fact, Sam and Cecilia’s relationship was quite similar to the one she had with Amira. I was happy Sam had someone here in Scotland whom she was close to. It couldn’t be easy to be away from her family all the time. I knew she missed them terribly, even if things were easier this year. We had each other and I didn’t doubt for a moment that this was where she wanted to be, but sometimes I felt a little pang of guilt.
I knew I missed my family, and I was just a few hours away from them so Sam and I could visit whenever we wanted. She was close to her mom and dad, as well as her sister and her brother. Even if she didn’t admit it, I knew that from time to time, she probably missed the chaotic, sunny LA life.
I got distracted by the guys talking about rugby and chimed in to comment about the latest match, but then I drifted back to Sam and Cecilia’s conversation. I took another swig of my whisky and zoned in on their chat, but I still couldn’t quite understand what they were discussing since I’d missed the beginning of it.
“What are you two talking about?”
They both turned in my direction, surprised by my interruption.
“Your girlfriend—pardon me, your fiancée here claims that ‘Everlong’ by the Foo Fighters is the greatest love song ever. I mean, it’s not a bad song, but the greatest?”
I let out a low chuckle, and Sam didn’t miss a beat to make her argument.
“Well, it is my favorite love song, Cecilia, it doesn’t have to be yours. I’m not expecting you to feel the same way about it. We can agree to disagree . . . wouldn’t be the first time,” Sam told her before raising her eyebrows and continuing. “I know it’s unusual, but it’s a song I have listened to a million times and I could never get sick of it. It’s sweet and sexy and it has that I’m falling for you and if we do this right it could be the greatest thing ever vibe. Does that make sense? And, it’s not cheesy. For the life of me, I cannot stand cheesy love songs,” she said animatedly. She was clearly a bit intoxicated, and for some reason I found it really amusing when she was slightly drunk.
We locked eyes, and a slight smile stretched across her face. Whatever she was thinking about made her blush ever so lightly. She chewed on her bottom lip and then brought her eyes down to her glass.
Cecilia huffed, eyes widening in exasperation, her cheeks colored a faint pink.
“Fair enough. I can agree with your point. What’s your favorite love song, Hugh?” Cecilia asked, and the question made me freeze for a moment. I couldn’t think of one.
I hadn’t ever been in love with anyone before Sam.
“I don’t suppose I have one in particular . . . though I have to admit, ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ will always have a special place in my heart.” I winked at Sam, biting my bottom lip, and she smiled, memories brightening her gorgeous, dark chocolate eyes.
Then I thought about the song Sam had been talking about.
Everlong. I’d always liked the song, though I couldn’t say I had paid much attention to it in the past. Sure, it was a great one. I revisited the lyrics of the song in my head, and somewhere along the line, I found myself agreeing with my bride-to-be. Indeed, it was a great song, and now that I knew how much Sam loved it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Several scenarios popped in my head, and at last I had an idea I hoped I could make come true at some point.
SAM
“Cut!” someone called, and everyone started shuffling around set again.
These naked scenes were draining, and not just for the actors. There were too many crew members all packed in a very small place, and it was always warmer than usual because the actors were butt naked and everyone was sweating profusely.
In other words, the most unromantic setting ever.
But, it had to be done. The scene in question was pivotal, and was basically changing the course of the characters’ lives.
Abarath’s only true love, Leonia, had escaped from the castle once she learned he was in grave danger. Dressed as a boy, in true Shakespeare fashion, she’d managed to recruit a few people to help her out along the way, and had been able to rescue Abarath, who was being held hostage by some roamers who learned he might be in possession of a magical dragon tooth, one that had healing powers.
The legend of the healing tooth was an ancient one, and Abarath didn’t have much to do with it, but he’d drunkenly claimed he had such a thing in his possession. A few days later, word reached Leonia’s kingdom that Abarath had been captured.
Leonia shed her damsel-in-distress clothes and went after the man she loved. Now that she had found him and the two of them were away from the castle, she wasn’t ready to let go of him.
It wasn’t very princessy of her to give up her virginity to a man she could never marry, but she was determined to seduce Abarath, if necessary.
I couldn’t fault her.
The man was hot. Abarath was strong, brave, and charming . . . and so damn good-looking, he even made a modesty patch look sexy.
If I were a princess and couldn’t marry the man of my dreams for some stupid dynastic reason, I would feel the same way.
I was really surprised by the evolution of her character in the last couple of episodes, and I had to give it up to Melissa for nailing every nuance of Leonia’s personality. She was a really great actress.
I walked over to Hugh just as an assistant was handing him a robe. Pity.
But, all in all, it was better this way. Sure, I could be professional, but let’s face it: it was so hard to focus when my man was naked right in front of me. The year before, I’d had to try my hardest to hide every bit of attraction I felt for him, but now that we were together, it was possibly even tougher to hide the way he could stir up my insides with just one of his looks.
He put on the robe as his eyes met mine. He winked.
What a tease.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I told him with a pointed look.
“Looking at you like what?” he asked innocently.
“Like you’re not the one naked, wearing a tiny modesty patch.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement and the corner of his mouth tilted up.
“Mo chridhe, I’m wearing a robe,” he teased.
“Yeah, but you’re naked under it, and you’ve been naked this entire time . . . and you’ve been doing . . . things.”
“Things?” The entertained tone in his voice was hard to miss.
“Yes, things, things that make my mind . . . wander.”
“Ahhhh.” He nodded in agreement. “So, the things I was doing made you start thinking about other things . . .”
“That’s right.”
“Is that why you had your head stuck in your tablet?”
I let out a breath. Lie. “Yes. You were seriously killing it, but all of a sudden I felt pretty caught up in it . . . and I had to look away. My mind went elsewhere and I got carried away. It was . . . too much.”
He ran his thumb across my cheek while I patted his face with a sponge to reduce the shine on his forehead. He looked down, smiling wickedly at me. Oh, him and his bedroom eyes—I wanted to kill him sometimes. I couldn’t stand when he tried to get me all worked up in public, and I hated to admit how easy it was.
“Stop it, I said! I’m trying to work here,” I mumbled, frustrated, blood rushing to my cheeks.
“Fine, I’ll behave—for now,” he teased in that low and rumbly accent of his. It sent a chill down my spine. Oh, how I loved the sound of his voice.
I sighed, partly from relief and partly with frustration.
“But before we go home, you should stop by my trailer,” he suggested with a wicked grin, eyes beaming with mischief.
I couldn’t hold back my smile. “A trip down memory lane? Sign me up.”