“Well, she got banned fae the bus, didn’t she?” Jimmy replies, looking annoyed. “How d’ye expect her to get fae place to place, if no’ on the street?”
He sniffs loudly, then marches past us both, Edna trotting obediently behind him. The entire interaction took less than thirty seconds from start to finish, but now that we’ve been spotted, I know the news of my return will be all over the village in less than half that time.
Let’s just hope Jimmy isn’t well-versed enough in pop culture to have recognized the man with me as Jett Carter.
“I liked ye in yon cowboy movie,” Jimmy shouts back at us over his shoulder. “I didnae like the yin wi’ the spaceships, though. Nae offense.”
Well, that’s one hope dashed, then. Fabulous.
“Shall we?” I gesture awkwardly towards the open gate as the driver wheels our suitcases towards it. “It might be a good idea to get inside as quickly as we can.”
Jett nods, his eyes still following Jimmy and Edna down the street. I’m pretty sure he didn’t understand a word Jimmy said. I just don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“This is nice,” he says, following me into the house, which smells heart-wrenchingly familiar in that way houses have of reverting to their natural selves when they’re left empty. You don’t really notice it when you’re living there, but every house has its own distinct scent that’s only really obvious to strangers — or to you, when you’ve been away for a while — and as I walk into the hallway, I realize my house smells like my grandmother’s perfume mixed with the faint tang of furniture polish.
I’ve really missed it.
“Where d’you want me to put this stuff?” Jett asks, interrupting my thoughts.
He’s still standing in the hallway beside his bags, looking absurdly large and somehow very, very American in the Scottish-sized space he’s found himself in.
This has to be the most surreal experience of my life. Having Jett Carter — Jett freaking Carter — standing in the chintzy surroundings of the tiny cottage I inherited from my grandmother, and haven’t updated much since she died, is like one of those strange dreams where you’re in a place you’ve known your whole life, but in which everything looks different. If Past Lexie had known she’d one day stand in this hallway and watch her biggest ever celebrity crush wander into the living room and look curiously at the photos on the mantelpiece, she’d probably have died of excitement on the spot.
All Current Lexie can do, however, is point awkwardly to the stairs, wondering if the spare bed is made up, and what kind of state she left in the bathroom in.
As far as Past Lexie would be concerned, Current Lexie would probably be a bit of a disappointment. Current Lexie, however, has very different problems from the ones Past Lexie might have imagined, and, right now, all Current Lexie can think about is how the news of her return is going to go down once Jimmy McEwan puts the word out — and what her mother’s going to say when she finally comes face-to-face with her again after her 12 months in exile.
Oh, and also how soon might be too soon to get some sleep; because, wow, am I tired, all of a sudden.
“The bedrooms are upstairs,” I tell Jett, wondering how I should break it to him that the two attic bedrooms and tiny bathroom are literallyallthat’s upstairs. He’s already seen both the kitchen and living room, which make up the downstairs of the cottage, and, given the kind of accommodation he’s used to, I have a feeling this place isn’t going to quite meet his expectations.
He makes no comment, however, as he picks up his bags and carries them up to the spare bedroom, before returning for mine, like a true gentleman.
Jett places my bags on the floor next to the bed, then we stand there uncertainly, neither one of us knowing quite what to do next.
“Do you want to go to bed?” he asks abruptly.
Okay,that’sa plot twist I wasn’t expecting here.
“Wh-what?”
I blink up at him, completely lost for words for once in my life.
“To, um, sleep, I mean,” Jett clarifies, as he realizes what I’m thinking. “In, you know, our separate rooms. I’m exhausted after that flight, aren’t you?”
“Yes! Yes I am! I’m so, so tired! Yes, let’s go to… sleep! Let’s do that!”
I stride quickly across the room and close the curtains in a bid to hide my face, which is scarlet with embarrassment.
It was completely obvious that he wasn’t asking me to go to bedwith him. Why onearthdid I think he was?
Turning back around, I walk straight into Jett as I attempt to cross the room again, then we do an awkward little dance as we try to pass each other in the cramped space. I always knew the cottage was small, but you don’t realize justhowsmall a space is until you try to share it with a Hollywood megastar you’ve just humiliated yourself in front of, do you?
“Well, good night, then,” I chirp brightly as Jett leaves the room, closing the door tactfully — and firmly, I can’t help but notice — behind him. I think it’s technically still morning, actually, judging by the way the light is falling against the closed curtains, but as I throw myself face-first onto the bed, I realize I wasn’t lying when I told Jett I was tired.
All this jet-setting really takes it out of a girl. Or maybe it’s just the anxiety.
I can’t be bothered taking my makeup off or getting into my PJs, so, instead, I just wriggle out of my jeans without leaving the bed, and kick them onto the floor. Then I sigh deeply and get up to put them in the wardrobe, knowing I’ll never be able to get to sleep with them lying there. I know Emerald Taylor, who used to clean this house for me, has probably told everyone I’m a slob, but that’s just because she got me at a bad time. And also because I deliberately left the place in a mess when she came round to clean it.
