Chapter Forty-Five
Amelia
My throbbing head woke me. I peeled one eye open, squinting in the bright sunlight. Sunlight? The last thing I remembered was flopping across the bed and closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to watch the room spin. What happened after that? Did Rory and I—?
“Good morning, sunshine.”
I opened my other eye and turned to see Rory lying beside me, head propped on his hand, smiling down at me. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. How’s your head?”
“Pounding,” I whispered.
“I figured.” He sat up and took something from his nightstand. When he turned back, he was holding a glass of water and two ibuprofen.
“You are a god,” I said, sitting up and gratefully taking the pills. Okay, I was still in my shirt and bra, so if we had done anything, I hadn’t gotten completely undressed.
“Aye, I keep telling people that, but so far no one’s listening. Maybe you could spread the word.”
“I’m going to tweet it. Hashtag Rory Sutherland is a god among men.” I peeked under the blanket. No jeans, but I was still in my underwear and socks.
“Looking for something?” he asked, arching a brow.
“I just…I remember coming back to the room with you and lying across the bed. I closed my eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning, and that’s it. Nothing after that. I do remember thinking of all the things I wanted to do with you last night—shit.” I buried my face in my hands.
“Should I be worried?”
“I’m pretty sure I also told the girls about all the things I wanted to do with you last night. I am so sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”
He burst out laughing, the sound so unlike him I could only stare. He showed no sign of stopping, so I went into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. When I came out, he was wiping his eyes. He grinned at me. “That explains a lot.”
I sat down on the bed. “What does?”
“Let’s just say that there were some significant looks I got from the lassies last night, along with some giggly wishes for us to have fun, most accompanied by a nudge and a wink. Now I know why.”
“Oh my God.”
“Unfortunately, you’ll have to make up some elaborate story if they ask, because the last thing you remember about last night is the last thing that happened. You were sound asleep about three seconds after you laid on the bed. I took off your jeans and shoes and tucked you in.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, disgusted with myself.
“For what?”
“For wasting a whole night with you. We only have one more day and night together, and—”
He kissed me, cutting off the rest of what I was about to say.
“You didn’t waste anything,” he said when he drew back. “You decompressed after a stressful, emotional week, and you had a good time with friends you won’t see again for a while. And I got to sleep with you in my arms. But,” he added, “if you really want to make it up to me, we have time for you to show me at least one of the things you told the lasses you planned to do with me before we hit the road.”
“I can do that,” I said.
…
A few hours later, it was my turn to watch Rory sleep. I studied his features, committing them to memory. His wild, dark red curls that shined copper in the sun, long enough to tangle my hands in. His handsome face, so stern and unsmiling when I’d first met him. Those features were a little softer now, his smile coming more easily, though a friendly and welcoming grin would not likely ever be his default setting. The strong jaw with its auburn stubble, softer now after days of not shaving.
And those stunning eyes, hidden from me now, but I knew their many colors. Clear gray-green, like the sea on a rainy day; liquid silver like the mercury in an old thermometer; bright green like the aurora that had danced across the night sky.
In a little over a week, I’d gone from thinking he was the biggest jerk ever to knowing he was the exact opposite. He’d been my nemesis, my helper, my friend, my lover. We’d shared laughter, tears, and the kind of passion I’d only ever read about.
And in just a few hours, I’d have to say goodbye to him.
Tell him you love him, said the voice inside me.
“I can’t,” I whispered. What purpose would it serve?
I had a life to get back to, thousands of miles away. And his life was here, striding over the hills and through the glens, climbing snow-covered peaks in winter and swimming in cold lochs in the summer. He might come for a visit, if he was even still thinking of me once we were thousands of miles apart, but that was it.
He didn’t belong in a city like Miami. The heat would lay him out flat, the sheer number of people would stifle him.
What would he even do there? It wasn’t like there was a market for long-distance trail guides in southern Florida, where the steepest terrain was walking up a few flights of stairs. And the thought of him staring at a computer screen in a tiny cubicle in an overly air-conditioned office, in khakis and dress shoes, wearing a button-down shirt and, heaven forbid, a tie?
He would wither away there. And he would come to hate me for making him leave his life of trails and open spaces and changing seasons and wild terrain.
No, I couldn’t tell him. It was just a fling—an exciting, sexy fling between two people who were attracted to each other. Tomorrow we’d say goodbye, and we’d both be sad about it for a while. Eventually, we’d both move on. And maybe when Carrie was better, she and I would take our trip to Scotland, and maybe he’d meet us for a drink. Or maybe we’d do a trail with him as our guide.
And then we’d return to the States, and he’d stay here.
The thought of saying goodbye to him was unbearable, but I would do it.
There was no other option.
Rory’s phone vibrated on the nightstand, making me jump and waking him up. Muttering under his breath, he peered at it.
“Everything okay?”
He rolled his eyes. “Scarlet needs to see Tommy and me at nine thirty. It’s what, nine now? We can run down for breakfast, and then I’ll go meet them while you get ready. Shouldn’t be more than an hour, and then we can get on the road. Okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds fine.”
He swung out of bed and walked naked into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower came on.
I threw on the clothes I’d worn the night before—they were a bit wrinkled, but good enough to wear to the B&B’s breakfast room. Five minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom and got dressed.
We had a lovely breakfast of eggs and grilled tomatoes, potato scones and toast, and then I walked him to the door. “See you in a little while.”
“Aye, see you,” he replied. He gave me a quick kiss and strode off down the street. I watched him go, finally heading inside after he disappeared from view.
I returned to the room. It was so strange to be alone after so many days in such intense close company with Rory. He’ll be back soon, and then you’ll have the whole day and night together. And then we’d say goodbye, possibly for good.
A wave of agony doubled me over. It felt as if my heart was literally breaking. Hugging myself, I sank down on the bed and sobbed.
Some time later, I got to my feet, my body raw and aching, and staggered into the shower, then got dressed and packed my bag.
When I was done, I sat on the bed and picked up my phone.
There was something I had to do.