Most people hated awards shows, but I loved that part of my job.
After what had gone down with Eric, I’d thought about changing careers. At the time, I had had enough of fake people and terrible attitudes. For a while, I felt disillusioned and considered taking a different path, but I realized that I really loved my job. I couldn’t think about doing anything other than what I had been doing for almost a decade. I loved the creative process, the work, the hours that went into it. I loved watching the actors bring a story to life. I loved being part of the small village it takes to make a story a finished product.
The ceremony was long, but fun, and Hugh Jackman once again did a great job as host. Now that we were at the Vanity Fair party, I was trying to hide from Eric and Quinn, who were now engaged—barf. I had seen them earlier from a distance, and I really wanted to avoid an awkward encounter. I was also hiding from Hugh. I had no idea what he’d meant with his I will find you later. It had been hard to pull myself together after our brief talk, and I wasn’t ready to bump into him again, mainly because I couldn’t pretend any longer. I couldn’t hide how much I wanted him.
I wanted to believe he still cared for me, but I had no real idea how he felt about us, especially since I was the one who had wanted to cut ties. In other words, I was chickening out. I picked up a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and took a big sip.
To hell with everything. I was determined to spend all evening trying to avoid all three of them. Unfortunately, being Amira’s wing-girl meant we had everyone coming up to us to congratulate her on her nomination, lying to her face telling her she should have won—she shouldn’t have, not this year at least—and talking to her about that certain script they had sent her way.
I swore almost every conversation in Hollywood went the same way: how are you, what are you working on, did you have a chance to read what I sent you? And so on. These were the times I was glad to be part of Hollywood’s “working class.”
The music stopped and the lead guitarist of the band took to the microphone, presumably to announce the next song. I was briefly distracted by the conversation my sister and I were having with Ellie Kemper about the upcoming season of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, and for a moment, I didn’t realize what was going on.
“Ladies and gents, may I have your attention, please? I know this is a party, but we have an emergency. This young man here asked me if I could help him win back the heart of the girl he loves. This is Hollywood, and we all love happy endings, right?” the guitarist asked the audience, and everyone cheered. The three of us stopped talking and looked curiously toward the stage.
Then, I saw a very tall man—a man who looked very much like a certain Scot I knew—take the microphone as the guitarist introduced him.
“Sam, ohmygod!” My sister reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze as she pulled me closer to her to see what was going on.
It was definitely Hugh, and he looked like he was about to sing.
What. The. Hell.
I let out a breath of surprise.
“Did you have any idea he was going to sing?” Amira asked me, and I shook my head in disbelief, my eyes focused on him as if I were hypnotized. Just then, his beautiful voice came over the speakers. His accent felt warm and familiar.
“I swore I’d never sing in public because I’m a terrible singer, but I know this is the only way to win back the woman I love, so…please go easy on me.”
People cheered. He turned to the band, letting them know he was ready to start. The drummer hit the drumsticks together and yelled “One, two, three, four!” as everyone in the ballroom seemed to switch their attention toward the stage.
As the notes of Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” filled the ballroom, everyone cheered again.
“I would appreciate it if you could clap along,” he said in a deep voice that boomed through the sound system. As Hugh started singing the first couple lines—he wasn’t that bad of a singer at all—a lot of people stopped talking, curious to see where this was going. I had to admit, I was curious as well. Had he really just said “the woman I love” or had I just dreamed it? Was he singing me a song?
From where I was standing, I could see his eyes scanning the crowd. He was looking for me, but he couldn’t see me because I was way in the back, and I had to raise myself on my tiptoes to see him. He closed his eyes for a moment and the smile that stretched across his face stole my heart once again. Damn him, he was so beautiful, and he was singing me a song, despite his reluctance to sing in public.
“What are you waiting for? Go!” Amira yelled, placing a hand on my back and pushing me toward the stage. I almost lost my balance, but I recovered and started walking toward him, asking people to let me through, getting side-eye here and there.
At last, he spotted me, and he pointed his finger at me.
“This is for you, Sam.”
As everyone realized he was talking to me, they started making room, leaving me in the middle of the ballroom. It was like the parting of the Red Sea.
I lifted my eyes to meet Hugh’s and noticed that despite his initial hesitation, he seemed to be enjoying it. He didn’t seem nearly as uncomfortable as I’d expected or maybe he was just that good of an actor. He winked at me when he sang about making love in the green grass, and I covered my face with my hands for a second, but then I quickly removed them—I couldn’t stop looking at him and grinning like a fool. I was aware of a few flashes and phones pointed at me, but I was past the point of caring. In fact, I was singing along with the lines I remembered, and he smiled wider as he noticed me swinging my shoulders and hips to the rhythm of the music.
Everyone around us clapped along and cheered, and the cheers got louder as Hugh stepped off the stage at the end of the song. In that moment, I couldn’t hear any other sound because my heart was thumping loudly in my chest, overpowering everything else. I wanted to walk toward him, but my legs wouldn’t move.
It didn’t matter anyway. He was in front of me in just a few seconds, my hands trembling with excitement and anticipation.
He took my face in his hands.
“I love you, Sam. I need you in my life. I know you did it for my own good, but I refuse to be apart any longer.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, he covered my lips with his in an urgent, passionate kiss that had everyone cheering and whistling. I had almost forgotten about everyone else.
The band started playing a slow-tempo song, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as we swayed along with the music, his kisses alternating between slow and maddening, deep and rough. I was aware that people were snapping pictures, but I didn’t care. He pressed his forehead against mine, and I sighed, pressing my body closer to him.
“So? You heard what I said…I don’t want to be apart anymore.” His voice was unsteady, his breaths coming fast and ragged.
“You need me?” I asked him, cocking one eyebrow.
“I do need you. Everything went to shit after you left Scotland.”
I laughed. “Ha! Not possible. I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. It was so gloomy without you,” he said in that beautiful accent of his.
“I remember you saying to me before that Scotland was never, ever gloomy.”
“I know, but that’s how I’ve felt since you’ve been gone. I have missed you so much, Sam.” The honest look in his eyes was enough to make my eyes well up with tears. I believed him; of course I did—it was exactly how I’d felt, too.
Everything had been gloomy for me since I’d left Scotland. I constantly felt as if something were missing, because I had been missing him.
The knot in my throat made it impossible for me to say anything. I lowered my eyes, the tears threatening to spill out. He tipped my chin up, and what he saw was enough to wash away his hesitation. He kissed me again, his lips soft and careful against mine for just a second before becoming a turmoil of passion. His tongue wrapped around mine, devouring me. Suddenly, I felt so elated that I cried into
his mouth, and a tear ran down my cheek. His strong arms wrapped around me just like they had before, my body flush against his. Just like before, I felt safe in his arms, the peaceful feeling spreading through my chest, washing away every fear.
Almost every fear.
“Hugh, I love you, and I want to be with you.”
He nodded, looking relieved, and a small smile brightened his expression.
“But…what about the show, what about the network? They’re not going to be happy about this.”
“What’s done is done,” he said with a coy smile. “There are hundreds of people in this room. I saw the flashes. I wouldn’t be surprised if our picture is already online. Maybe one of the headlines will say ‘Abarath actor serenades his girlfriend at the Vanity Fair party.’ What do ye say, Sam?”
I blushed. “Had you planned this all along?”
“Maybe. I have been trying to think of a way to fix this ever since they made you leave. Melissa and I came to the conclusion that a public confession of my feelings for you was the only way.” He kissed me on the lips, and when he pulled back, he had the most ecstatic smile on his face.
“And that song! You’re not a bad singer, you know that, right?”
“Aye, ye might be biased. I’m certainly not as good as you.”
“One of these days, I’ll get you to sing with me.”
“There she goes again,” he said, laughing to himself. I leaned against his shoulder as we kept dancing slowly. His cheek rested against my head, and my heart was swimming in a sea of warm, fuzzy feelings, heightened even more by the twinkly lights in the ballroom that provided the perfect setting. My brain, however, wouldn’t stop asking questions. Yes, he loved me and I loved him, but was this the best thing for him?
“What is it?” he asked before I could open my mouth.
“Are you sure this is what you want? Now that your life is about to change and become more crazy and complicated?”
“Too late now,” he joked.
“Not helping. Are you sure this is a good move? What about the uber-passionate fans?”
“I don’t care,” he replied. “Plus, shouldn’t this stunt earn me some points and establish my status as a romantic hero?” I laughed. “All I know is I’ll go crazy if I can’t have you by my side. Do you love me?” he asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.
“You know I do. I have been in love with you for a while, Hugh MacLeod.” His eyes softened at my words, and as I caressed his face, he took my hand and kissed it.
“I meant what I said, Sam. I need you in my life. What do you say?” he asked. The raw emotion in his eyes was enough to make me want to tear up.
“I can’t wait for you to take me home,” I said with a smile, trying to steady my voice. He narrowed his eyes, confused by my words. “To Scotland,” I added. The grin that stretched across his face was blinding and infectious. I smiled, too, but soon his lips were on mine again, sealing our confessions with one more kiss.
People say life is stranger than fiction. I had been in the make-believe business for a while, and I had forgotten that sometimes life can be better than the greatest love stories of the silver screen. Life sometimes beats any scripted show, any movie, any choreographed romantic scene.
I couldn’t wait to see where life with Hugh would take me next.
Sam
When I had arrived in Scotland the first time, I’d felt like a fish out of water. I was undoubtedly lost. The second time, even though I didn’t know what surprises awaited me, I didn’t feel so lost anymore.
However, I had to admit, I had expected a warmer welcome.
It had been months since I had left on that cold, rainy day in January. I thought my friends would show their faces and welcome me back with open arms.
When I got to St. Martin, I realized I hadn’t been given the same townhouse as before. Cecilia and Oliver were getting married, and they had somehow managed to get a place together. I wasn’t too upset about it, because I was hoping Hugh and I could do the same, but when I looked at the papers I had gotten from production, I discovered I had a reservation at the local hotel and that surprised me. Why had they gotten me a reservation for a hotel? Where would I stay permanently, and more importantly, where was my boyfriend?
It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, and I missed him. We had been meeting across the globe for most of the year. I tried calling him, but he didn’t answer the phone.
Men.
He could have at least come to the airport to pick me up. He used to be so attentive…guess the fame has gone to his head, I joked to myself.
In reality, it couldn’t have been further from the truth. Despite being unreachable that day—my man had decided to be a producer on the show this season and told me he had a meeting he couldn’t miss—Hugh and I met any time we had the chance. After the Oscars, I got a call from an old friend to go work on his new movie in New York, and Hugh made sure to come visit me there whenever he could in between promos.
Reviews and ratings for season one had been great, so much so that Entertainment Weekly called Abarath “The Must-Watch Show of the Summer.” Hugh, Melissa, and the rest of the cast also earned rave reviews for their performances, so much so that a lot of TV bloggers were talking about Golden Globes nominations for the next year.
After my movie wrapped, I took a few more jobs around LA, music videos and commercials, mostly. I didn’t know if I had been “forgiven” by my peers or if my new relationship had elevated my status—probably both.
I had the chance to choose between going back to work on Abarath or being a key makeup artist on the set of a historical drama set around the American revolution.
I was tempted to accept the position in the States…for a total of five minutes. I missed my Scot, but I also missed Scotland. I longed to see my favorite valley covered in heather again. I was even prepared to deal with the bloody dreadful weather.
A month before coming back to Scotland, I had joined Hugh for a couple stops in Asia while he and Melissa promoted the show. Alyssa had been busy on Broadway, filling in for the lead actress playing Angelica Schuyler in Hamilton.
Our Hong Kong and Tokyo trip had been a blast, and we even met Amira, who was in Japan to secure the rights to a comic book she wanted to turn into a movie or maybe a miniseries. One of my favorite memories was of all of us trying to fit into a tiny sushi place near Tokyo’s fish market. It was, hands down, the best and freshest sushi I had ever tasted.
As I checked into the hotel, an employee at the front desk gave me an envelope that was addressed to me. Strange. Maybe Hugh had left me a note. I opened the envelope while the clerk completed the check-in process, and I found a key with a piece of paper.
The man was certainly fond of keys. What was this one for? I didn’t think it was the one for his hotel room, and it looked much different than the ones we’d had for the townhouses last year.
I went up to my room and tried his number again. Nothing.
I took out a change of clothes, put my luggage away, and opened the piece of paper in the envelope. It was a charming, albeit badly drawn map of a place I knew well.
I smiled, and then sighed, because now I knew where to find my boyfriend.
I took a quick shower and tried to make myself presentable before leaving the hotel. I walked past the street of townhouses where I’d stayed the previous year. A million different memories flooded my head, and suddenly my chest filled with that certain mix of anxiety and anticipation I felt any time I was going to see Hugh again.
A year had passed, and he still gave me butterflies.
It seemed like the feeling was mutual, because whenever we were together, he couldn’t get enough of me.
I called an Uber—a rare commodity in St. Martin—and gave instructions to the driver for how to get to my destination. My favorite spot in all of Scotland looked a bit different than I remembered. The heather was just now starting to bloom, and the splashes of lilac color were few and far between. Somethi
ng else was different, too—it was sunny, exceptionally sunny. The weather was gorgeous, a perfect summer day by Scotland’s standards. The few clouds in the sky were white and fluffy. It was picture-perfect scenery, and I was even more in love with it than I had been the first time. By the time I reached the X-marked spot on my map, my heart was in my throat, and I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my spine.
Smoke was coming out of the chimney, which I found odd, because it wasn’t a cold day, but I was happy for the smoke signals, because at least I could be sure he was there. I imagined he’d come out and greet me, but he didn’t. I said good-bye to the driver and walked up the small path leading to the front door. I reached for the handle, but it was locked. I took out the key he had left for me and opened the door.
I smiled as my eyes took him in. He was standing in the middle of the empty living room, right in front of the fireplace, and he was facing me. All the old furniture the place had had when we’d rented was gone. I frowned for a moment, but when his face broke into a smile, my nervousness and tiredness vanished.
His hair fell across his forehead in that unruly way I loved, and I couldn’t wait to run my fingers through it again. He was wearing a dark blue sweater that hugged his biceps and highlighted his pecs with dark blue jeans that made him look taller, towering even, in the cozy living room.
I walked hurriedly to him, wrapping my hands around his neck a moment later, my lips pressed against his, our bodies flushed.
We didn’t speak.
There was a lot of kissing at first, as well as hands in all kinds of places. It had been a month; it simply couldn’t be helped. My thirst for him was unquenchable, and only after a while did I come back to my senses and remember to ask him why we were meeting here. We didn’t have to hide, not anymore. I stopped kissing him. He suddenly pulled back and gave me a curious look that soon turned into a grin.
“God, I missed ye.”
“I missed you, mo chridhe,” I said while caressing his smooth jaw, and his smile widened. He stole one more kiss, but then I stopped him. Questions, I had so many questions; kissing would have to wait.
Lost in Scotland Page 25
