Page 58 of The Great British Bachelor Chase

The man shakes his head. “Cancelled. You won’t be getting to the island until morning. Not unless you fancy a swim,” he adds with a chortle.

I sigh in defeat. “No thanks.”

I grab the bag of snacks and mooch back out to the car. Once we’re settled back inside the Volkswagen—rain beating on the windshield—I turn to Fraser with resignation. “So, what now?” I ask, ripping open the first package I can reach, and stuffing the contents into my mouth.

Teacake and the taste of impending doom. Yum.

“You heard the man.” Fraser gives a frustrated sigh, scratching at his beard. “We won’t be crossing to Skye today.”

“So where are we going to spend the next… seventeen hours?” I ask, and a traitorous part of me imagines some cozy Bed & Breakfast by the loch, with a roaring fireplace, clawfoot bathtub, and a large, inviting bed for us to share…

“I know somewhere.” Fraser sounds reluctant. “We can wait out the weather and be on the road again come morning.”

“Does this somewhere have real food? And a washer/dryer?” I ask hopefully. I only packed for a couple of days on the road, and my wardrobe options are basically nudity if we’re out here much longer.

“Aye,” Fraser says, looking grim. “They’ll be laundry, alright. And plenty more besides. We’ll pay a high price for them, though.”

“Isn’t that what your expense account is for?” I ask, confused. “I’m sure Reeve will cover anything, if it means we get Hugo back.”

“I wasn’t talking about money,” Fraser mutters cryptically. He yanks the gearstick into drive and gets back on the road—taking the turning in the opposite direction to our route.

He doesn’t sound thrilled about our latest detour, but at this point, I’m not surprised. What was meant to be a quick jaunt up to London on Saturday, to have Hugo back safe and sound on the movie set in a couple of hours, has turned into an epic multi-day road trip across the British Isles. Hazel said they could cover for Darcy’s absence until Tuesday, but now even that deadline is fast approaching tomorrow, and I’m still no closer to reaching him.

I send Hazel a text.

‘Teeny weather delay! Meeting Hugo tomorrow. If we hop on a plane, I can get him back end of day!’

I tuck my phone away before she can send a panicked response.

“You really think we can talk Hugo into coming back?” Fraser glances over. “Seems like the man is dead set on staying put.”

“You didn’t hear him,” I say confidently. OK, hopefully. “He loves playing Darcy, I know he does. He fought for this role. It’s the role any actor would kill for!”

“Which means he wouldn’t take quitting lightly,” Fraser points out.

I shake my head. “For some reason, he feels like he has to give the part up to be with Max, but we can help him see, he can have them both! I mean, people go long-distance all the time. There’s FaceTime, and visits, and Scotland’s not even that far. It’s not like there’ll be an ocean between them or anything—”

I stop, realizing what I’ve said. There was an ocean between the two of us after I finished my semester and went back to America…

And look how that turned out.

I feel an ache in my chest, the echo of my old hurt and betrayal.

Why didn’t you keep loving me?The question haunted me with every unanswered email, and day without a call. Was I just a passing amusement, fun for now, but not worth the work? No, I can’t believe it. Fraser’s feelings were real, just like mine. Our chemistry is undeniable, even after all this time.

But clearly, chemistry isn’t enough.

“Either way, we’ll sit him down, and talk it out,” I say firmly, getting back to the subject at hand. “We’ll make Hugo see that a little distance doesn’t have to mean the end,” I can’t help adding, glancing over at Fraser. “If he really cares about Max, he’ll do whatever it takes to stay in touch until they can be together again.”

Fraser doesn’t look at me. He clears his throat and reaches to turn the radio on. “How about some music?” he says quickly, and even though the first station is playing Taylor Swift, he leaves it on.

That’s how much he doesn’t want to talk about this.

So, I take the hint, and let the rest of the drive pass by in pop music soundtracked silence. The scenery stays beautiful all the way and is plenty to distract me; I remember Fraser describing his homeland when we were together last, full of passion and enthusiasm for Scotland’s many attractions, but even that doesn’t come close to the majestic landscape speeding outside the windows.

He was going to show it all to me, he promised, as we lay tangled up in bed in my student housing, breathlessly planning our next chapter. I’d finish up the school year, and then work a month in Blackberry Cove, pulling triple shifts at the diner to pay for a ticket back across the pond. We’d spend the rest of the summer up here: Backpacking around, staying in cheap hostels, while he showed me every inch of the country he loved so much. From the historic cobbled streets of Edinburgh, to the furthest windswept beaches of John O’Groats, Fraser painted it all out with his words, promising me the adventure of a lifetime.

Promising a future with me…

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