Page 42 of One Night in Edinburgh

Had this been the reunion I’d imagined, I’d be so overcome with excitement and teenage hormones, it would have taken an enormous effort to resist the urge to run and leap into his arms – like Martine McCutcheon did to Hugh Grant at the end ofLove Actually. However, having been caught peering through the doorway of the men’s loos, that urge unsurprisingly escapes me.

‘Jamie. Uh… hi,’ is all I manage.

He takes in my scarlet face and my awkward stance, and I can tell it’s taking everything he’s got not to laugh.

‘One question… no, two actually,’ he says. ‘Why haven’t you come outside? And… why are you harassing some poor unsuspecting gentleman when he’s at his most vulnerable?’

I shift slightly on the spot. ‘I was… that guy… oh, man, this is really not the reunion I’d hoped for.’

‘Yeah, sorry about that. But when you didn’t come outside, I naturally wondered what was going on.’

‘Naturally.’ I silently berate myself for not doing a better job of resisting my impulses and my need to be a decent human being.

‘So, are you coming outside, or shall I leave you to… do whatever this is you’re doing?’ The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement.

‘Funny.’ I throw him a sarcastic look and rub my forehead with embarrassment. ‘Look, please could you do me a favour?’

‘Sure. What do you need?’ He raises a curious eyebrow.

‘Would you go in there and tell that poor man that I’m terribly sorry for my behaviour, that I’ve had a difficult time, and that I think his beard is… artistic.’

‘Artistic?’

‘Yes. Or feel free to supplement with another positive and appropriate adjective.’

‘What did you do to my poor messenger?’ Jamie’s obviously having to try hard to swallow the mirth that’s now bubbling to the surface.

‘I’ll tell you after. See you outside.’

I walk past him, face blazing, grabbing a can of beer from his hand as I go. Once outside, I take a seat at the same table we sat at before, and slug at my drink. It’s half-finished when Jamie joins me on the other side of the table, his face giving nothing away.

‘How is he?’ I wince as I ask this.

‘Think he’ll survive. Though he’s definitely going to lose the beard, or take it a lot shorter at a minimum.’

‘Oh no. I’m an awful person.’

‘No, you’re not. To be fair, I think you’ve done him a favour. It did resemble some pretty grotesque taxidermy I once saw in an old castle up north.’

‘Still…’

‘Forget it.’ He gives me a meaningful look. ‘It was a misunderstanding. He’s fine. Just found you a little… intimidating.’

‘I really didn’t mean it. I’m not a nasty person. I thought he was—’

‘Steph.’ Jamie reaches across and clutches my hand reassuringly, sending a wonderful warm tingle up my arm. ‘I know that’s not you, even with the short amount of time we’ve spent together. Honestly, don’t give it another thought. I bought him a pint, so he’s quite happy.’

‘You did? Thank you. I can give you the money for it.’ I reach for my bag.

‘Absolutely not. It was my fault. I was trying to be smart, replicating our night together at New Year, making it seem like the weeks hadn’t passed. I never thought to factor in what you told me about having had a rough time with the locals.’

I flush and look at the ground as he says this.

‘Hey.’ He gently takes my hand in his. ‘Please don’t be embarrassed; I thought it was sweet. And here we are – reunited – so surely it can’t be a regret for you.’

‘No, it’s not.’

Looking up, I meet his gaze and take him in properly for the first time: his thick brown man curls, those gorgeous moss-green eyes, and his sort of lopsided grin. My heart skips as I register that he’s here. He’s right in front of me. After weeks of hoping and then losing hope, we can start again.

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