Oh my God. It has to be Patrick. Which means—
Did he delay his flight—his big, important CEO life—and climb all the way up there himself?
Searching through rocks and heather for a needle in a haystack that he said didn’t matter?
For me?
If he did… then that’s not casual. That’s not fling behavior. That’s a man showing me he’d climb mountains for me.
Which is insane. Obviously. He didn’t do that. That would be completely ridiculous.
Right?
Outside, the distant thud of rotor blades cuts through my spiral. I run into the front garden.
The helicopter appears like something out of a film—a dark shape against the stars, navigation lights blinking red and white against the purple sky. It banks left toward Inverness, and I stand there clutching Riri’s chain while Patrick flies away.
I’m dying to contact him but I know he’s on the flight to London.
I send a message anyway:
Do you have time to talk?
Then I spend two hours staring at my phone like an idiot, scrolling through nonsense just to distract myself.
At 11 p.m., my phone finally lights up. Patrick. Calling.
“Hello?” My voice comes out high and breathy.
“Georgie.”
Everything spills out at once. “Did you find my chain? Did you actually go up the Old Man of Storr?”
“I found it. It was in my car, wedged under the gearstick.”
“Oh!” I laugh, relief spilling out of me. “Oh my God, thank you! I’m so happy. Honestly, I can’t believe it was there the whole time. And sorry I didn’t check properly myself. I was so flustered. Mary mentioned you delayed your flight this morning and then I found the package with my chain, and I had this completely ridiculous idea that you actually went up Storr, which is—” I snort at myself —“ridiculous, obviously.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that makes my stomach flip.
“Didyou go up Storr?”
There’s another pause.
“No.”
Just one word but it took him forever to say it. My heart thumps harder.
“Right. Of course not.” My laugh comes out thin. “But seriously, thank you. For finding it. It means everything.”
“My pleasure.” His voice has that gruff quality, like I’ve just thanked him for holding open a door instead of returning the one thing I’d thought I’d lost forever.
I hear footsteps echoing. “Where are you?”
“Just getting to my apartment.”
“How long will you be in London?” I ask, trying to sound breezy. Like the answer won’t matter.
