It’s been four weeks since I saw him on my doorstep. Four weeks of dreams where I open the door differently, say different things and make different choices. I can be having a perfectly nice time, appreciating Norwegian fjords, and then bam—mybrain serves up some random Patrick memory and I’m fighting tears in front of strangers who came here to see the Northern Lights.
Jake mentioned casually that he’s back in Skye.
So, I’ve been pouring everything into IRIS, my start-up baby. I’m terrified but also excited. Roy’s joining as my first employee, which feels alarmingly boss-like. I had to practice saying “my employee” in the mirror three times without giggling.
We’re taking things slow and steady. Quality over quantity, that’s the plan. I don’t need to be the next tech unicorn or whatever they’re calling successful start-ups these days. I just want to build something I’m proud of.
The path curves ahead, snow crunching satisfyingly under our boots. The afternoon light has turned magical, like we’ve wandered straight into a Christmas card. This is my life now. Georgie Fitzgerald: Arctic Adventurer.
I can’t quite believe I’m going tocamptonight.
There’s smoke rising from further up the hillside, which is reassuring. Someone else is mad enough to be camping here. Safety in numbers and all that.
“Look, someone else is camping too,” I say, pointing at the lone figure silhouetted by a bonfire up the slope.
I squint through the fading golden light, trying to make out details. Probably some mad Norwegian who does this every weekend. The figure straightens, turns toward us, and—
“Oh my God.” I spin to face Jake so fast I nearly lose my footing. “Oh myGod, Jake, what the actualfuckis Patrick doing here?”
“Before you murder me—” He holds up both hands defensively. “—and I can see you’re thinking about it—just hear me out.”
“What’s going on?” My hands are shaking. I might throw Jake off this mountain. “Did you—did you set this up? Jake, I swear to God—”
“Look, you’re not the woman you were after that prick in uni.” His voice goes serious, the big brother voice he uses for important things. “I see that now. Really see it. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Patrick will not be an easy person to love—he’s complicated and stubborn and sometimes a complete bastard—but he will love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
His eyes meet mine.
“I’m sorry, Georgie. I treated you like a child who couldn’t make her own decisions. I acted like I knew better when it’s very clear you know exactly what you want. I was trying to protect you but I just... I got in the way instead.”
A sob catches in my throat. I press my mittened hand against my mouth.
“Jake, I can’t do this.” My voice cracks completely. “I can’t just… not here. I’m not strong enough.”
“I think you should hear him out,” Jake says gently. “But if you don’t want to, I respect that. He came here for you but he’ll be gone before you’ve even set up your tent. There’s a helicopter waiting to take him away if need be. You can choose to walk down the path and talk to him if you want to, or you can choose to turn around and never see him again. Whatever you decide, I’ll support it.”
Patrick
I’ve never been so nervous in my life, and I’ve been in situations that should’ve killed me.
I stood on K2 in a whiteout so thick I couldn’t see my own boots. Almost blacked out on Everest when my oxygen regulator crapped out at eight thousand meters. Flew a helicopter through a storm that had me gripping the stick like a death wish. Not that I’d ever admit that to Georgie.
None of those situations comes close to this.
She walks toward me through the snow, boots crunching with each hesitant step, and damn, she’s beautiful, even drowning in a thick snowsuit, bobble hat pulled down over her ears. Her cheeks are red from the cold, dark hair escaping in wild tangles under the hat, and her mesmerizing green eyes catch the firelight like something out of a dream.
My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my throat.
“Hi.” I manage a smile, trying to look like I haven’t just flown across the Arctic Circle to beg.
“Hi.” It’s so soft the wind almost steals it. She stops a few feet away, mittened hands twisting together, staring up at me like she’s not sure I’m real.
God, I’ve missed her. Every bloody thing about her.
All I want is to close the distance, pull her against me, bury my face in her neck, and just breathe her in. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to anymore. I destroyed that privilege.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her breath clouding in the frozen air between us.
“I’m not here to see the Northern Lights,” I say, attempting a joke, but it comes out rough. “Beautiful as they are. I’m here for you. To see you, if you’ll let me.”
