Page 64 of Highlands Summer Wedding

“I should go.” I started to get up again, but her grip tightened on my arm.

“Sit your ass back down, sis!” Caitlin ground out.

“Wow. From tears to bossy older sister in seconds,” I muttered as she loosened her grip on my arm.

She met my eyes. “Seriously, Abby. I’ve never needed you more than now. And it’s not because of your mad planning skills—which you definitely have. It’s not just because you knew how to calm Mom down over the lack of a wedding venue, or even how you fixed it so we got the venue back. I’ve just been missing you from my life, Abs. And now that you’re around, I really notice and appreciate you.”

“I love you, too, man…,” I said in my best drunken voice, earning me a quick swat.

She took my hand in both of hers. “And I want you to have love.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I mean it, Abby. You’re always making lists. You’re always organizing everyone’s life. You’re really freaking good at it. But what about you? What’s on your wish list? You never focus on yourself.”

It hit me like a gut punch. Because so many times in life what I wanted hadn’t worked out. I’d found a career I loved and a guy I loved, but I couldn’t have both. Somehow I’d ended up losing both. And after many pints of ice cream and some navel gazing, I’d decided to focus on making other people’s dreams come true.

“Go after Max, Abby. He’s the love of your life. You can’t just hide here behind a clipboard and wait for a happy ending.”

I kissed her on the cheek and grabbed my keys, thankful I’d picked up a rental the day before.

CHAPTER 28

Igot into the rental car and drove back to Skye, my stomach knotted in confusion. I tried to distract myself by singing along to the radio, but without much success.

I got to the house—and it was empty again. Once again, I wondered what the hell I was thinking, letting myself hope this could work.

Frustrated, I put on the kettle, organized a stack of oatcakes and cheese, then poured myself a cup of decaf Lady Grey. I sat down in a chair by the window where I could watch the raindrops dancing on the deck and the storm clouds hanging over the loch. I pulled out a notepad—my default—and started making lists.

This time it was a life list, for me. What were my priorities? What kind of life did I want? Did I want to get back into film, or continue with wedding planning? More and more I realized it was such a similar job, but the wedding planning had more control and more stability. Film always meant being beholden to some angel investor, studio, or power-hungry rich maniac. I loved working in film, but the instability was crazy. Always networking, always looking for the next job, always selling the sizzle, not the steak.

The steak was tough, dry—and not always worth the money.

I loved creating something from nothing. I loved that words and images could come together and evoke emotion. I loved everything from casting to table reads to editing. I loved working with actors, choosing locations. I loved all the parts of it—but maybe not the sum of it.

I didn’t like my decision, but it felt right. There was no way I wanted to give all of this up for a maybe. I mean, when we finished this three-picture deal, then what? It would get Max another directing job. As for me, I’d spend years wading through stacks of scripts again, searching for something to fall in love with and coming up short. And I’d be known as the producer of a period film set in Scotland or a selkie film, neither of which had a strong path to a wide release.

I’d fallen in love once. It was hard. It was painful. And now it was over.

I checked the maps app to see how long it would take to drive back to Inverness, and the route line was red. The weather was probably going to snarl everything up as well.

Sighing, I decided to make the most of it and have a relaxing day in my Isle of Skye getaway. I put in my noise cancelling ear buds and set my phone to meditative music, then took the teabags from my teapot, placed them on my eyes, and leaned into the impromptu spa time.

I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes again, it was getting dark. The rain pelted against the windows, and the loch’s waves were raging. I loved a good storm, so I got up, pulled the plaid wool blanket around me, and waddled into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea.

I heard a key in the front door, and then a dripping wet, wild-eyed Max walked through the door.

He stepped into the kitchen, tracking water behind him. “I didn’t know where you were!” he said, staring at me.

“I was in Inverness.”

Max threw out a hand toward the counter. “You could’ve left a note.”

“A note?”Why would I have left a note?

“Or called. Or texted.”

I leaned back against the counter. “We were working on the wedding. I came back when things settled down, but you weren’t here.Youcould’ve left a note.”