“Well it better not, Lach,” he says to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Because that girl is in love with you. Believe me, you do not want to fuck that up.”

I squint my eyes at him. “So what really happened in Paris?”

But he just smiles at me and walks away.

I sigh and return to the game.

Being on the rugby pitch has always been the one place where I can put everything behind me, all my past and my future and just live in the present.

But for the rest of practice, I’m as useless as tits on a bull. Maybe it’s the hangover but it’s most likely everything else. The great highs of this morning in bed with Kayla, hearing her say she loves me, having her tell me she might stay, combined with the lows of last night, the shame over my violent behaviour, the way that I must have made her feel. How quickly I went from “one drink will put me at ease” to not having a limit at all.

“McGregor,” Alan yells at me as I’m leaving the pitch. “Smarten up next time. We need you sharp.”

I nod, grunting, and head into the locker room to shower.

I needed to smarten up and fast. For the sake of everything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kayla

“Please stay with me.”

I hear his words over and over again and each time my mind replays it, each time it brings up that look on his face, desperate, needing, my heart is torn in so many directions. How is it possible to feel so alive, so full, at knowing he wants me to stay, at even considering it, while I also want to crumble and weep because it just seems so impossible?

I mean, how could I stay here? Is this something I really want to do?

I know the answer to the last question but the first one needs a lot of work.

“You going to be all right?” Lachlan asks me. His voice is so low, so quiet, that I turn away from the drawing room window and look back at him.

He’s got his duffel bag full of rugby gear slung over his shoulder, brow furrowed in concern. After he told me that he wants me to stay, he’s been acting different around me. Like he’s afraid to say anything more, as if it will set me off and running.

I raise my cup of coffee at him. “I’ve got this. I’ll be good.”

“Weather isn’t very nice,” he says and I look back out the window at the rain streaming down.

I shrug. “Perfect day to stay indoors. I’m sad I won’t see you getting all muddy in the field though.”

“Actually we’re at the track today, conditioning,” he says. “You’re welcome to come.”

I’m not sure that I am, not after the other night. Sometimes I worry that it was me being around his field, around his teammates, that it set him off. I shake my head and give him a small smile. “That’s okay, I have a whole day to lounge around here with the dogs and watch The Vicar of Dibley. Besides, I have to get ready for your gala hoopla and I’ll need a lot of time to get gorgeous.”

His eyes trail up and down my body, at my lacey shorts and thin wifebeater. “You can just wear that, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not sure this outfit would help Ruff Love’s reputation. When will you be back?”

“Half past three, I’m sure.” He licks his lips, seeming like he’s going to say something. Then he just nods at me. “I’ll see you later, love.”

“Bye,” I say softly, watching him leave.

Once the door shuts, I settle down on the couch, pulling a blanket over me, even though it’s not that cold. I just want the comfort.

After a few episodes of watching Dawn French, I decide to pull out my laptop. I log onto my work email, which I admit I haven’t checked since I got here, and scroll through the emails.

To my surprise, they’ve all been dealt with by Candace. I guess Lucy gave her my login info. Nothing is private when you work for someone else and she seems to have taken over the first week of my absence with ease.

Actually, when I’m looking at her replies, it’s quite obvious that she’s doing my job far better than I ever could have. Probably better than I ever will.

And that makes me sad. Like, really sad. And regretful. Not that she’s doing a better job per se, but that the work was so uninteresting to me, that I could never build up enough passion, enough feeling, to care. And if I stayed in this job, like I always expected I would, I would never reach that point where I was giving it my all. Because in the end, it didn’t really matter to me. I looked for joy and purpose outside of it.

Now I’ve found Lachlan. And while he’s not my purpose to life, he’s bringing so much joy, love, every fucking emotion possible that I feel like I’m living in color instead of shades of black and white. What if I could find a job where I could feel a similar kind of joy for the daily work that I did? What if I could find purpose in the things I did every day, find passion that rivaled the passion I felt for him. Who says that only one aspect of your life can be fucking fantastic?

The more I stare at the emails, the more I realize that Candace, for whatever reason, loves doing her job and even more than that, loves doing my job. And I don’t love anything about my job whatsoever. Now that I know what love is, I don’t want to be stuck where it’s absent.

I take in a shaky breath as the realization hits me. I need to find my purpose and my passion. I need to leave my job and take a risk.

I need to stay here, with him, and start again.

But knowing it doesn’t make it happen and doesn’t make it easier.

The fear will always hold you in check.

I check my phone and calculate the time back at home. Everyone is still asleep back in San Francisco. I can’t talk to my mom and ask her what she’d think of me moving here, even though the thought of bringing it up pains me. I can’t talk to Stephanie and Nicola and tell them that I’m in love with him and that he’s in love with me and that even though he’s messed up, I still want to chance it and be with him, permanently.

So I make myself a cup of tea, cuddle up with the dogs and stare out the rain pattered window, as you do when you’re feeling all pensive and moody.

I guess at some point I fall asleep, because I wake up to Lachlan coming in the room and planting a kiss on my forehead.

“Tough day?” he asks lightly.

I glance up at him, his face flushed from running. He looks like the picture of health. It’s hard to imagine just a few days ago he was hungover and burdened by his own shame.

“Yeah, exhausting,” I tell him, stifling a yawn. “Is it already half past three?”

He nods. “Aye but we don’t have to be at the gala until seven. You can keep napping if you want.”

My body does want to nap forever it seems but I’m not missing an opportunity to dress up for his main event. I even went shopping with Amara on Princes Street the other day, looking for the perfect gown. I mean, when else would I ever be able to wear such a thing? Every girl gets a Cinderella moment once in their life and this one was mine. I was going to exploit it for everything that I could.

I get ready slowly, enjoying each moment. The dress I picked up wasn’t that expensive but it looks expensive. It’s floor-length and black, with a high neckline and a back cut down almost to my ass. There are slits up either side to show off my shoes, deciding on my hot pink platforms, just so that I don’t seem too serious about it all.

Once it’s on, I step out of the bedroom and into the drawing room where Lachlan is waiting for me, already dressed. He stands up and we both take a long moment to take each other in. I thought he would have opted for a tux at this event but he’s in a navy blue three-piece suit.

With a kilt.

Dear lord in heaven.

“Oh my god,” I say. He looks like a fucking Highlander ready for a ball before the battle.

“You look stunning,” he says to me, coming over and taking my hand in his making me twirl around. “Jesus bloody hell. I don’t even think I can let you out of the house.”