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David takes a sharp intake of breath.

“That’s two rejections in a month.” Tears spill down my cheeks once more. “I’m a disaster, aren’t I?”

“No!” Grace objects. “You’re perfect!”

I scoff. “I went to Bannock to recuperate, to focus on me for a while, and instead I threw myself at the first man I bumped into after getting out of the taxi. He was the manager of the hotel I was staying at! I’m such a fool.”

“You’re not a fool,” Grace insists.

“I am! I wasn’t in the right headspace to jump into another relationship—it was too soon after Harry—but I did it anyway. I should have known we wouldn’t have a happy ending. You tried to warn me, Grace. You said it, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Hmm,” Grace says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with this sentiment.

David says nothing but drums his fingers on his leg. We fall back into silence for a while.

It’s only broken when I blurt out, “He told me he loved me!”

“What?” Grace and David say in unison.

“I . . . I wasn’t expecting him to say it, and I couldn’t say it back. How could I? It’s too soon after everything with Harry, and besides, you don’t tell someone you love them after just a few weeks!”

“Yeah,” David says vaguely. “I suppose not.”

“But the thing is, I was starting to think . . . well . . . I was beginning to feel the same way about him. Is that crazy? But then he demanded I tell him I’ll be by his side always, and I wasn’t ready to say that. And he just . . . he lost it!”

I shake my head. If Grace and David have an opinion about what I’ve just shared, they don’t offer it, but David reaches back and squeezes my hand.

I return to looking outside, at the beautiful hills we’re driving by. It’s impossible not to be reminded of the gorgeous Glen Garve, the idyllic valley in which Bannock sits. I understand now why Dad fell in love with the Highlands and why he took me here on so many holidays. It truly is a wonderful place. Throughout my twenties, I couldn’t have imagined living anywhere other than London, but now? Now I can see the appeal of a different sort of life, a quieter life.

Not that Bannock is quieter in all ways. I think of the noisy lunch Grace, David, and I shared with the McIntyre and Stewart families. It was so unlike the quiet meals of my childhood, when it was just me and Dad. If I’m honest with myself, after that lunch I daydreamed about becoming a member of the loud and somewhat dysfunctional McIntyre family. After all, Jamie’s risqué jokes had already become a part of my daily routine, along with Lewis’s earnestness and Ally’s, well, Ally’s . . .

No, it hurts too much to think about him. But despite my best efforts, I can’t stop memories from popping into my head. They play out like scenes in a film.

The time we went rafting together, reliving an activity we did as children . . .

Ally didn’t warn me about the waterfall, but I felt the greatest rush when we went over it. I whooped so loudly!

Eating dinner with Ally in the Pheasant . . .

I drank too much! In front of the whole pub, I stood up and did a terrible impression of a Highland fling. Ally surprised me—and, I think, everyone else—by not only joining in but by being extraordinarily good at it.

And, of course, the time Ally and I went climbing . . .

The storm came, and we sheltered in the castle ruins. He said my clothes were soaking wet and had to come off . . .

Oh God. Ally!

My heart aches. If Harry broke it when he jilted me, then Ally has well and truly shattered it. I’m not sure I’m going to get over this. Will I ever be able to put the pieces back together again?

My phone vibrates, and just for a moment, hope sparks within me. I yank it out and check the screen, but it’s only a message from my telephone company informing me of my monthly bill.

Fresh tears fall. Of course it’s not Ally. If Ally had realised he’d messed up—if he regretted his words—he’d have contacted me by now. The fact he hasn’t says everything: he meant what he said to me. Since I wasn’t ready to promise myself to him—a totally unreasonable request—he wanted me gone.

That day at the distillery, Ally showed such courage, opening up and telling me about the unwarranted anger he’d felt towards Robbie for years. Where did that courage go? Today, he was a different man.

I put my phone on flight mode, so I can’t be disturbed by other notifications, then close my eyes and take three deep breaths. I’m planning to do a meditation, but on the third breath, a sob bursts from my lips.

“I’m so sorry about this!” I try hard to compose myself. “You’re both stuck with me—and for such a long journey!”