Chapter 164: The Price of Free Food

Chapter 164: The Price of Free Food


We had finally reached Edinburgh, and under normal circumstances, I probably should have been staring out the airport windows with sparkling eyes, taking pictures of everything, and whispering dramatic things about finally making it to Scotland. Instead, I stood there at immigration with one hand wrapped around my passport and the other pressed discreetly against my stomach. My stomach felt like it had filed a formal complaint against me. Apparently, the sandwiches at the New York lounge had not been enough. Neither had the snacks. Neither had the seven-course meal I had somehow consumed on the flight. At some point during the journey, I had apparently decided that crossing the Atlantic required the nutritional preparation of a medieval army. Now my stomach was sitting somewhere between deep regret and please stop. I glanced at Grayson beside me and immediately straightened. Absolutely not. I was not going to arrive in Scotland and immediately embarrass myself by looking like a woman who had lost a battle against an airplane meal.

We shuffled forward in the immigration line, and every step felt like my stomach was reminding me of its grievances. I kept my face perfectly neutral. At least, I hoped it was neutral. Inside, however, there was a full emergency meeting happening. You're fine, I told myself. You're completely fine. My stomach gave a heavy little twist. We're not fine. I ignored it. Grayson glanced at me. "You okay?" I immediately nodded. "Perfect." Too fast. Way too fast. He looked at me for a second longer. "You sure?" "Absolutely." I smiled so brightly that my cheeks started hurting. "I've never been better." My stomach chose that exact moment to make a deep, ominous sound. I froze. Grayson's eyes flicked downward. I quickly cleared my throat. "The airport." He blinked. "The airport?" "Yes." I nodded confidently. "Very... loud." He stared at me, and I smiled harder. "Lots of noises." Apparently, lying had never been one of my stronger talents.

When we finally reached the immigration officer, I handed over my passport with what I hoped was the confidence of an experienced international traveler and not someone desperately trying to keep her digestive system from declaring independence. "Purpose of your visit?" the officer asked. My brain briefly stopped functioning. "We're here for a book event," I said, trying to sound calm and professional. The officer looked at me. "A book event?" "Yes." I nodded. "We're attending an event related to a book." Technically true. Very true. I resisted the urge to add seventeen unnecessary explanations. The officer asked a few more routine questions, and I answered them while standing as still as possible. My stomach chose that moment to make another threatening little noise. I prayed the officer hadn't heard it. Judging by his completely neutral expression, either he hadn't or immigration officers had seen far stranger things. 

The officer eventually stamped my passport and handed it back. "Enjoy your stay." "Thank you," I said, accepting it with a smile. I turned away, took exactly three steps, and immediately slowed down. Grayson was waiting nearby. "See?" I said cheerfully. "Easy." He looked at me. "You look pale." "The lighting." "The lighting?" "Airport lighting is terrible." He gave me a skeptical look. "You were fine a minute ago." "I'm still fine." I smiled again, although my stomach felt like it was carrying the entire weight of the Atlantic Ocean. "I'm just excited." That was technically true. I was excited. I was also one sandwich away from needing a personal apology letter from my stomach. Grayson reached for one of my suitcases. "Let's get out of here." I nodded immediately. "Excellent idea." I followed him, walking slightly slower than usual and praying that Scotland had conveniently installed emergency seating every five meters.

We finally made it through immigration, and I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Scotland was right there beyond the airport, waiting for us, and I desperately wanted to enjoy the moment. Instead, my stomach gave another heavy warning, and I pressed my lips together. You will behave, I silently ordered it. We are in Scotland. You will not ruin this. My stomach, apparently unconcerned about international boundaries, disagreed. I glanced at Grayson, who was walking ahead with my suitcase, completely unaware of the internal crisis happening behind him. I straightened my shoulders and followed. I had crossed an ocean, survived immigration, and successfully hidden the consequences of eating enough food to feed a football team. Surely I could survive a little longer. Besides, I had one very important goal now: make it out of Edinburgh Airport without embarrassing myself in front of Grayson. How difficult could that possibly be?

The moment we stepped out of the airport, a wave of cool Edinburgh air hit me, and I instinctively pulled my coat tighter around myself. We had barely made it through the doors when I noticed a man standing near the pickup area, holding a white card above his head. I glanced at it casually, then stopped walking. Written across it in large, unmistakable letters was GRAYSON HALE. I looked at the man. Then at Grayson. Then back at the sign. "Well," I whispered, "that's subtle." Grayson followed my gaze and gave a small nod. "He's our driver." I looked at the enormous card again. "I gathered that." The man was standing there with the calm patience of someone who had probably held up hundreds of names at airports. Meanwhile, I was staring at my companion's name as though we'd just discovered he was internationally famous. "Do people really do this?" I asked. "Apparently." "With signs that large?" "It makes it easier to find the passenger." I nodded thoughtfully. "Or easier for the entire airport to know where Grayson Hale is."

The driver spotted us almost immediately and lowered the card. He approached with a polite smile. "Mr. Hale?" Grayson nodded. "Yes." The man's eyes moved toward me. "And you're Ms. Brooks?" I blinked. "How do you know my name?" He gestured toward the booking information. "Your names were provided with the reservation." I nodded slowly. "Right." Of course. That made perfect sense. My stomach, however, chose that moment to give another unpleasant little twist. I quickly straightened and smiled at the driver. "Nice to meet you." He smiled politely. "Welcome to Edinburgh." "Thank you." I paused. "It's very nice so far." The driver glanced toward the airport behind us. "You've only just arrived." "Exactly." I nodded. "And so far, nobody has chased me out of the country, so I'd say we're doing well." Grayson turned his head toward me. I immediately looked away. "I meant that positively."

The driver took one of our suitcases, and Grayson picked up another. I reached for the last one, determined to prove that I could still be useful despite the fact that my stomach had apparently declared a temporary rebellion. "I can take this." Grayson looked at me. "Are you sure?" "Yes." I grabbed the handle confidently. The suitcase barely moved. I tried again. Nothing. I looked down at it. "Why is this suddenly heavier?" Grayson looked at me. "Because you packed half your apartment." "That's an exaggeration." He glanced at the other two suitcases. "Is it?" I opened my mouth, then closed it. "I brought necessities." "Three suitcases of necessities?" "Scotland is unpredictable." The driver quietly smiled as he listened. I caught him watching us and immediately straightened. "For the record, I'm normally very good at packing." Grayson gave him a look. "She's not." I turned toward him. "Whose side are you on?" "Reality's."

We started walking toward the car, and I immediately noticed the vehicle waiting for us. It was sleek, spacious, and far more luxurious than anything I had expected. I slowed down. "That's ours?" Grayson nodded. I looked at the car, then at him. "We're being picked up in that?" "Yes." I stared for another second. "You really don't know how to travel normally, do you?" He gave me an amused look. "What does that mean?" "You have a driver holding a giant sign with your name on it, three pieces of luggage are being carried for us, and now there's a car that looks like it has its own financial advisor." The driver opened the door for us. I hesitated. "I feel like I'm accidentally pretending to be someone important." Grayson stepped aside to let me enter first. "You're traveling with me. You'll get used to it." I looked at him suspiciously. "That's exactly what someone trying to turn me into a spoiled traveler would say."

I climbed into the car carefully and settled into the seat, trying not to look too impressed. It was impossible. Everything inside was comfortable, polished, and ridiculously spacious. I glanced through the window as Grayson climbed in beside me. Edinburgh stretched beyond the airport, unfamiliar and beautiful, and for a moment I forgot about my heavy stomach, my three suitcases, my terrible packing decisions, and the fact that I'd lied to half the people in my life to get here. I smiled. "We're really here." Grayson looked at me. "We are." The driver closed the door, walked around to the front, and started the engine. I leaned back, watching the city come into view as we pulled away from the airport.