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Will Jamie and I ever have the kind of relationship these two have? Well, I can't really compare our relationships. Rory married Emery four days after they met in New Orleans. Jamie and I have been navigating an intercontinental romance for more than a year.
After breakfast, Jamie and I go for a walk. There's a trail on the far side of the castle that leads to the river. It's nice to spend some time outdoors with the lass I love, rather than just hanging out inside. Our weekend trips to see each other don't give us much of a chance to relax. We both feel compelled to find activities to do together, to make the most of our brief in-person visits.
Strolling with Jamie makes me feel like all that stress has vanished.
We sit down on the banks of the river, which Jamie tells me has no name. That's weird, but I'd rather focus on her than on finding out why Rory's river has no name. We have our arms around each other's waists as we amble long, listening to birdsongs and the rushing of the water. I can't help imagining us walking like this with our children. In my fantasy, we have two kids, a boy and a girl, but that brings up a question in my mind. If we have kids, will they speak with Scottish accents or American ones?
Don't care. I'll love them either way.
But will they be raised in Scotland? Will I need to get dual citizenship?
Jamie rubs her cheek on my arm. "What are you thinking about, Gavin? You seem very serious."
"No, it's nothing. Just lost in my own thoughts." I kiss the top of her head. "Maybe we should come up with potential names for the river, just for the heck of it."
Didn't I deftly change the subject? I don't want to explain my weird, silly thoughts to her, not yet. If we get engaged, maybe I will tell her.
"Are you sure everything is all right?" Jamie asks. "You know you can tell me anything."
"I swear it's nothing, honestly." Yeah, that didn't sound guilty at all. "Don't you like my idea that we should invent names for the river?"
"Aye, I do like that. It sounds like something Rory would positively hate, so we should definitely do it." She bumps into me on purpose, gazing up at me with the sweetest impish smile. "It would be fun to watch Rory's face turn bright red."
I chuckle. "You're a naughty lass, aren't you?"
"Aye. But you love that about me."
"Yep, always have, always will."
But more than that, I will love this woman forever. Unless she dumps me first. I don't mention that thought to Jamie. It's dumb and nothing but a passing worry.
We spend the remainder of my vacation days however Jamie wants. She insists I should tell her what I'd like to do, but I prefer to let her act as my tour guide to the Highlands. After all, this is her home. I love the way she lights up when she points out her favorite places on a map, so she can devise the best itinerary for our day trips. Every evening, we go back to Dùndubhan to have dinner with Rory and Emery---and whoever else might show up. Jamie's relatives have a way of just appearing suddenly in the dining room doorway. It's kind of weird, but I've gotten used to it.
Mostly, it's her immediate family who magically appear. But I have met a few of her cousins, of which there a shocking number around these parts.
"Oh, aye," she agrees when I share my thoughts with her. "There are MacTaggarts everywhere. We're a wee bit like ants. We emerge from under a rock to crawl about and overtake you when we're least expected. Sort of like the blob in that old science fiction film."
"Your metaphors are weird and kind of sinister, but I think that's cute."
She kisses my cheek. That's what Jamie does whenever I say something that she labels "barmy," but she's even cuter when she informs me that I might be "off my head" if I think danger is adorable.
But soon, it's time for me to fly home. I do have a job, after all, though I'd much rather stay here with Jamie. She offers to go home with me, though I assure her that's unnecessary. We can talk on the phone, after all, or even do video calls. After six days with Jamie in Scotland, I feel refreshed and ready to go.
Everything gets back to normal, but not for long.
Six weeks after I came back from the Highlands, my boss calls me into his office. I can tell by the look on his face that he isn't about to give me a promotion or a raise. By the time he stops babbling meaningless boss-talk, I've already guessed what he wants to tell me. All that's left is for him to say the words.
"I'm sorry, Gavin. I have to let you go."
"Yeah, I figured."
"The company has been going through a rough time, financially, and we need to cut the wheat from the chaff." He hands me an actual pink slip and actually expects me to take it. "I truly am sorry. You've been a dedicated employee, but your sales volume was lower than that of other associates."
Since he's still thrusting that pink piece of paper at me, I give up and take it.
My former boss looks obviously relieved, like he expected me to karate kick him in the nuts. "Please gather your personal items and relinquish your badge at the security station downstairs."
"Uh-huh."
