“Oh. That sounds nice,” I told her, raising my eyebrows. “So, you’re sure you don’t want a big, puffy dress?” I joked, and she shook her head.
“What about a four-tier cake?”
“Oh, we’ll have cake—maybe not quite four-tier, but there’s going to be a celebration, at the pub, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“So, you two already have your license?” Hugh asked, arms folded in front of his chest, his right hand holding his chin.
“We do! We got it the week before last, before both of you got here,” she replied, turning toward Hugh. Her hair had gotten longer in the past few months. It was just as blond as when she had it short, but now it reached her shoulders. Her hair was straight, but with wavy strands. Every time she turned between Hugh and me, her hair whipped back and forth. I pondered her words and studied her demeanor, finally realizing how excited she really was about all this. It made my stomach fill with butterflies.
My friend was getting married—in just a few days.
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
“What do you mean? I came as soon as I knew. We wanted to make sure we had Friday off.”
“Yeah, but you could have mentioned something,” I said in a slightly annoyed tone. Hugh narrowed his eyes at me, almost glaring. Was I really that out of line? “I’m just surprised, that’s all, but it doesn’t matter, okay? What can I do to help you?”
Hugh’s eyes softened then, and I nodded in his direction. I get it, okay? I wanted to tell him. I wasn’t trying to be an ass, but Cecilia had shocked me a little bit.
Knowing how exuberant she was in day-to-day life, I’d expected someone like her to dream of an over-the-top Four Weddings and a Funeral type of British wedding with a big party where all the attendees wear those fancy hats like the ones you see the royal family wear.
“Well, we would like for both of you to be there, if possible, as our witnesses.”
Hugh and Oliver hadn’t been particularly close when I was there the year before, but supposedly they had bonded after I had to leave, when Hugh was nursing his broken heart and I was dealing with my own heartbreak thousands of miles away. Plus, I suspected the only other viable candidate for such a task was Rupert, and knowing him, he was probably going to the game.
“Of course, I would love to do that!” I said, stretching my arms out to hug her. She embraced me and I held her petite frame for several seconds before I released her. “Anything else you need?”
“Do you think you could do my makeup? I’m afraid my hands will shake so bad I’ll mess it up.”
I smiled. “Of course, Cece. I would love to. I’ll do anything you need me to.”
I was welcomed back on set with opened arms. Just like Hugh said, I had nothing to worry about, but the rules for the two of us were a bit different this year.
When we got our schedule for the week, we noticed we had a meeting scheduled with Human Resources.
Together.
Some HR person from London had been sent over to address a few things before season two started. Cecilia and Oliver had also been summoned, apparently, because I saw their name written down on a list in front of the HR representative.
Since everyone knew about us, we’d have to work harder to prove we were being professional and weren’t fooling around on set.
Tsk.
Honestly, I didn’t even know what they were complaining about—we had never delayed production during season one . . . except maybe one or two times when Hugh couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
So, this year the mandatory rule for the star of the show was that under no circumstance would he get his makeup done in his trailer as he’d previously requested, unless he was sick as a dog.
He would have to go to the makeup room like everyone else, just like we had at the beginning of season one.
Nora took us aside on the very first day. “I don’t care what you do after hours, but if you hold up production for any reason, you’ll have to deal with me,” she told us with a loaded, menacing look.
I knew Nora well enough to know only a fool would dare crossing her.
HUGH
A few days later, we found ourselves sitting in the Registrar’s office, ready to act as witnesses for Cecilia and Oliver’s wedding.
Sam was staring at our hands laced together.
“You know, I never thought this would be something I’d want, but now that we’re here . . .” Sam’s voice trailed off and when her eyes met mine, she gave me a soft, shy look. There was hesitation and emotion in her voice. I hadn’t brought the subject up again because I knew we were both too busy to make it happen any time soon.
But that didn’t mean I hadn’t been thinking about it.
The fact that we were just about to witness our friends exchange vows only made the desire, the need to make her my wife stronger.
I grinned at her. Her words and her shy hesitation made me smile.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“Maybe . . . but I would prefer it if our families could be present.”
“I know.” I nodded and she let out a deep breath.
“I’m excited for Cecilia and Oliver, though.”
The bride and groom were sitting on a bench in front of us, waiting for their turn. I glanced at my fiancée and noticed a look of nervousness and trepidation in her eyes. She kept pressing her lips together as she often did when she didn’t want to succumb to her emotions. I’d watched her try to hold back tears many times when we watched movies or TV shows. I clearly remembered how distraught she’d looked when we watched a certain episode of Abarath together. I wasn’t too keen on watching myself on screen, but in this particular episode they’d asked us to live-tweet the show, so I’d watched it with Sam and her family while it aired in the US.
It was an episode I remembered well, because it was when it all started, when I started falling for her. I was terribly nervous to shoot a very dramatic scene that day, and she’d found me in my trailer, unable to get a bloody grip on myself.
With just a few words, she’d been able to remind me that I could do it. In that moment, she’d given me the confidence I had been missing.
When we’d watched the scene that had cemented our connection and brought us together, tears streamed down her cheeks just as they had that day on set. I’d wiped her tears and kissed her cheek while we watched the show. She had bashfully pursed her lips, trying to downplay her feelings.
Similarly, now that we were waiting for Cecilia and Oliver to exchange their vows and preparing to act as their witnesses, she seemed to be on the verge of tears.
“Sam, what’s up?” I asked, tugging on her hand.
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“I don’t know, babe,” she said in a whisper. “It’s all of this. It’s making me think about us, our wedding. I want it now, so much that I’d be ready to go through with it the same way they are, but I also want everything else. Is that wrong of me?”
She looked my way, eyes questioning, and I shook my head.
“Well then, if you want everything, we better start putting the wheels in motion.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I hope you won’t think I’m crazy, but I have a sort of crazy idea.”
SAM
The very last thing you’d expect when you finally find the one and decide to get married is to get bitch-slapped in the face with a load of bureaucratic bullshit.
Seriously. Major buzzkill.
But that’s just what happened to us.
Right after the Registrar declared Cece and Oliver husband and wife, Hugh told me all about his crazy idea.
“We might not want to get married right now, but we could get a license, or at least look into getting one.”
And that’s what we did.
Yes, he was right—it sounded crazy, but why not at least check out what we needed to do in order to get one?
We ran to the marriage licen
se office, jubilant with excitement. He kissed my hand as we both laughed and knocked on the door.
Theoretically, it should have been simple, right?
Only, it wasn’t.
Since I was a US citizen, I was supposed to have a visa in order to get married. I had a work visa, but that wasn’t enough. I tried listening to the clerk going through the list of paperwork needed, but at some point, during out impromptu visit, my brain checked out and I stopped listening.
It was all noise to me.
This was not what I wanted to hear, and from the tight hold Hugh had on my hand, I could tell he wasn’t happy either. I thought I was just supposed to sign a paper, get something that would make it possible to record our union at the Registrar first and in a church later on. My eyes kept bouncing between the clerk’s detached expression and the list of documents he pointed at on a form he’d placed in front of us.
More than anything else, I couldn’t bear the look on Hugh’s face. I barely glanced at him, and immediately I felt my heart ache. He looked just as shocked and as confused as I felt. After briefly locking eyes with me, he gave me a forced, small smile. It hurt to see him this disappointed, jaw taut, eyes narrowed, thick eyebrows pulled together in a frown.
I squeezed his hand and pulled it toward me, and another smile appeared on his face, still tight, but less forced than the one a moment before.
One of his hands reached around my waist and rested on my hip, heavily.
I could feel him steadying himself by leaning on me, physically and emotionally. I swallowed past the knot in my throat as my heartbeat sped up and the blood coursed through my body faster. Looking at him, I was reminded of all the reasons why I loved him.
This wasn’t what we wanted to hear.
But we’d deal with this, too, because this love of ours knew no barriers.
Nothing was going to stop us, least of all a long list of paperwork.
In that moment, a small spark lit within me.
Whatever it took, I was going to make it happen.
For him.
For us.
HUGH
“So, that wasn’t at all what I expected,” I said nervously after a while, letting out a deep breath. I was frustrated by what we’d been told at the Registrar’s office and had been quiet since we left. Sam glanced at me from time to time as we walked hand in hand. We were going to join everyone else at The World’s End, a historic pub in Edinburgh, which was just a short twenty-minute walk away. The guys who had gone to the rugby game were also supposed to meet us there, and then later we were scheduled to take the celebration back to St. Martin.
I was happy for our friends, but right at that moment, I didn’t have it in me to celebrate. I didn’t like having to hear what the clerk at the office had told us.
“I know.” Sam sighed, and I realized she was probably just as confused and frustrated as I was. “But,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze, “it’s probably just a matter of getting things started. I’m sure we’ll get everything sorted out soon.”
“Maybe so,” I replied with a small smile.
“I was thinking . . . you should put me in touch with your attorney. He can probably recommend a colleague or a friend who practices immigration law. We’re both busy, and we’re never going to have time to take care of this if we don’t get someone experienced who can guide us through.”
“You’re right.” I nodded, suddenly feeling more hopeful. The sun abruptly broke through the clouds and shined its afternoon golden glow on the centuries-old buildings that lined the street. The sunlight forced me to look up and take in all the different colors the city had to offer, bringing back so many memories from when I was in school.
“I had forgotten how much I love walking around Edinburgh,” I said out loud without realizing it.
“It’s beautiful,” Sam chimed in. “I wish we could have visited more last year.”
I nodded. She stopped in her tracks and pulled my hand up to her chest.
“Hugh, I’m disappointed too, but it’s all going to work out, I just know it. It’s just going to take a bit longer than we thought. Why don’t you let me handle it?” She smiled tentatively, searching my eyes, and I realized how moody I had been for no reason.
I smiled. My Sam, she always knew how to help me put things into perspective.
I stepped closer to her, leaned in, and cradled her face. I looked around, and thankfully no one seemed to be paying attention to us. It was a Friday afternoon, and everyone was bustling to either get home or to the pub.
I locked eyes with her and her lips parted, anticipating a kiss. My finger traced the shape of her cheek, all the way down to her chin.
“You see, this is why I can’t wait to marry you. You always make everything better, Sam.” I placed a small kiss on her lips, and when I pulled back, she leaned in for another one.
“It’s all going to work out. It’s going to be epic, you’ll see. Now, let’s go and celebrate with our friends. No time for long faces.” She tugged on my hand, motioning for me to follow her. “The World’s End,” she mumbled. “Why does it sound so familiar?”
“Probably because it’s one of Edinburgh’s oldest establishments. You might have heard someone else talk about it.”
“I don’t think so, I don’t recall any conversation . . .” She trailed off. I glanced her way as her frown turned into sudden realization. “Of course! How could I be so stupid?”
“What?” I asked.
“The World’s End!”
“What about it?”
“It’s where Jamie and Claire go after their reunion in Voyager!” I gave her a look of confusion and she sighed, exasperated. “Hugh, remember Jamie Fraser from Outlander? Best book boyfriend, fictional husband, no-one-can-hold-a-candle-to-him, all-around badass hero?”
I raised my eyebrows in response, only a wee bit offended Sam didn’t care for Abarath quite the same way.
“Don’t give me that. We talked about this—Abarath is no Jamie Fraser. Different ballpark, MacLeod. Claire and Jamie’s love story withstands time and space!” she tried to reason. “Maybe I will change my mind about him if he stops being such a damn flirt!” She wasn’t wrong there; unlike Jamie Fraser, Abarath had no qualms about not being monogamous.
“Fine. You’re right. Can we go now, lass? I’m ready for a pint.”
“Of course. Let’s go,” she said, taking my hand and leading the way. We walked for a few minutes, fingers laced together, and then she stopped in her tracks again.
“Um, Hugh . . . you should take the lead.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I have no bloody idea where The World’s End is.”
I pursed my lips together, noticing how cute she sounded when she said bloody.
“Dinna fash yourself. I ken my away around here, neach-gaoil.”
“Why is it called The World’s End, anyway?”
“Because, once upon a time, that was where the city of Edinburgh ended. The walls of the city were just a few steps away, the world’s end, ye ken. Everything outside those walls was foreign and dangerous—a bit like you, in a way,” I told her with a smug smile.
“Har har,” she replied, laughing and igniting a warm ache in the middle of my chest.
“You know what, though, Sam?”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
She smiled, the corners of her lips tipping up. She glanced at me, her eyes twinkling in the afternoon light.
“I wouldn’t want it any other way, either,” she replied softly.
SAM
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” I heard Hugh’s heavy footsteps across the floor. He stopped in front of the window, the one facing east, and a few seconds later, daylight invaded the bedroom as he opened the curtains.
“Nooooo,” I mumbled, putting a pillow on top of my head. I heard the muffled sound of his laughter, beautiful even though it was at my expense. I felt the weight of the mattress shift as he sat
down on the edge of the bed.
“Come on, Sam. Get up. There’s something I want to show you.”
I patted the mattress. “You get back in here, now. I can show you things here, too. It’s Saturday, for crying out loud, and we were out late last night. Let me sleep.”
He took the pillow that was keeping me safe from the blinding daylight and brushed the hair away from my face. I squinted, my eyes trying to adjust to the . . . brightness.
Oh, Scotland. It’s so like you to be bright and sunny on one of the days I do not have to get up at dawn to go to work.
I grunted and the Scot laughed again.
I tried to put him in focus as his silhouette was bathed in daylight. He caressed my face, trailing the contour of my cheek.
I looked up and the irresistible grin I’d grown to love was plastered on his face. It was impossible to remain grumpy and serious when he looked at me like that. I took a deep breath and a warm ache radiated through my chest; it was the best kind of ache I’d ever felt.
“Come on, Sam,” he said softly.
I clutched tightly on the sheet and the blanket, not ready to leave my cocoon. He was being sweet about it, but his insistence still pissed me off.
Then, the fragrant smell of coffee reached my nostrils. At least he comes bearing gifts, I thought, but then I looked to the bedside table and saw no cup of coffee greeting me.
So the coffee was downstairs, only accessible if I got out of bed.
This Scot was damn sneaky.
I grunted again, and eventually decided to give in.
I lifted the blankets and sat up, staring at him. I let out a deep breath.
“What’s gotten you so worked up that you can’t wait thirty minutes or an hour to wake me up?” I teased.
He gave me a flirty grin, the type I couldn’t be indifferent to. His eyes were a cornflower blue this morning, especially with the bright sunshine entering the room, but what made me forget everything was the look in those eyes, his gaze serious, yet soft.
A Scottish Wedding (Lost in Scotland Book 2) Page 5
