Page 20 of Highlands Summer Wedding

“You bet. Fairy Glen tomorrow morning?” His voice held a tinge of hope.

“Sure!”

I waved. He waved back.

What the hell were we doing?

CHAPTER 8

It took me a full ten seconds after waking to remember where I was. Then I smelled the coffee and remembered everything else too. I threw on an old T-shirt and some yoga pants and wandered into the living room where Max was sipping coffee and watching dailies. I didn’t want to startle him, so I quietly said, “Good morning,” but he jumped anyway.

“Hey! Good morning,” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

He did a double-take. I glanced down to see what had caught his attention.The shirt. Of course I’m wearing the Fault Lines shirt. Dammit.

“Sorry I slept so late. The jet lag was getting to me more than I realized. How’s the footage looking?”

He looked back down at his screen. “Good. I mean, we’ve got CGI stuff to add in, and some other effects, but for now it’s looking good.”

I went to the kitchen and filled a mug with coffee and grabbed a scone. I returned and plopped down next to Max on the couch to join him in watching the dailies for a film I wasn’t a part of.

“I love the close-up of that soldier’s eyes,” I said.

“Yeah. That’s the first time anyone gets shot in the battle. It’s like the moment he knows this is the end.”

I nodded. “The camera stays on him or cuts away?”

“Stays. Five full seconds.”

“I like it. Do you have a pitch deck or a lookbook I could see?” It slipped out before I could stop myself. “I’m sorry,” I added, embarrassed. “I know you have to sign an NDA to see that stuff…”

“Actually, not the pitch deck. I made that before we signed the contract, so they don’t own that. Here.”

He opened a file.

I looked through it: Period costumes, tartan, stone churches. Soldiers around a fire. Then one drawing stopped me—a man in full tartan raging into battle, mouth open, clearly swearing. The heart of these young men, fighting for a world that would soon no longer exist.

I couldn’t help but smile. “I love it!”

“Thought you would,” said Max. “It’s kind of aBraveheartmeets… something similar but toned way down. You know, like maybe…Macbeth.”

“The one with Denzel Washington? Masterpiece.”

“Well, of course.”

We both laughed. Then silence.

I took a sip of my coffee. “So you said there’s good hiking around here?” I asked, anxious to break the silence.

Max’s face brightened as he sat up straighter. “Amazing hiking. You could come here and do nothing but hike. I mean, that’s what most people do.”

I pushed myself up from the couch. “I’ll go get dressed. Will it be cold?”

“Bring layers,” said Max. “Out here you have to be ready for anything: rain, sun, wind, midges—oh, be sure to coat yourself in that Skin-So-Soft you’ll see in the bathroom. Keeps the midges away. Trust me, you’ll want it.”

It felt oddlyfamiliar sitting next to him as we drove. He followed the GPS, twisting down narrow roads like he’d driven them a hundred times before.

We seemed to be driving to the end of the earth when he made a sharp turn and suddenly there were camper vans, families, and hikers along the roadside. He pulled into a parking lot. We were there.