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The universe had seemed determined to keep him from reaching her. But why? Was it really to test his resolve, as he'd suggested to her? Or was it trying to warn them both away from each other?

Din wasn't superstitious.

Five centuries of existence had made him pragmatic about most things. But even he had to admit that four near misses in a row stretched the coincidence theory to a breaking point.

Yet here he was, in the village, just minutes away from seeing Fenella again. Whatever forces had attempted to prevent their reunion had ultimately failed.

That had to count for something.

As he toweled off and dressed in clean clothes, Din wondered what Fenella would be like now. Max had warned him that she'd changed, that she was harder now, more defensive, wary of connection. But then the young woman he'd fallen for half a century ago had already possessed a certain steel beneath her charm.

He remembered her behind the bar, effortlessly handling rowdy customers with a sharp word and even sharper wit. The way she'd thrown her head back when she laughed was unselfconscious and genuine.

How her eyes had followed Max whenever he'd entered the room…

Din pushed the memory away. That was the past, and dwelling on it would only poison whatever chance he had at a future with her.

Dressed in dark jeans and a navy button-down shirt, Din reached into his suitcase and withdrew a small wooden box, its surface smooth from years of handling.

He sat on the bed and opened it carefully.

Inside, nestled against faded velvet, lay an antique Scottish brooch. The silver had tarnished slightly over the decades, but the Celtic knotwork pattern remained intricate and beautiful. At its center sat a small amber stone that reminded him of whiskey caught in sunlight.

He'd purchased it for Fenella shortly after meeting her, imagining the moment he'd present it to her. In his mind, she would accept it with that bright smile of hers, perhaps wear it on the woolen scarf she'd sometimes draped around her shoulders on chilly evenings. But he'd never gotten the chance. Max had moved faster, more confidently, and Din had been left holding a gift that would never be given.

After she'd chosen Max over him, Din had made a bitter vow to give the brooch to the first girl he befriended next, but despite the plentiful dalliances over the decades, he'd never met anyone he'd wanted to offer it to. It had remained in its box, sometimes forgotten for years at a time, only to be rediscovered during moves or spring cleanings.

When he'd found it again while packing to move to his Edinburgh apartment, something had compelled him to bring it along, though he'd had no reason to believe Fenella was even alive, let alone that he'd ever see her again.

Din ran his thumb over the amber stone. He'd never been one to believe in fate or destiny, yet here he was, carrying a fifty-year-old gift to a woman he'd been sure was lost to him forever.

Perhaps there was something to this destiny business after all.

His phone buzzed from the bedside table, breaking his reverie. Replacing the brooch in its box, he checked the message from Max:

Did you call Fenella yet? She's probably pacing a hole in Jasmine's floor waiting for you.

Din shook his head. Typical Max, micromanaging everyone around him, but he had a point, and he knew Din. As always, he'd been procrastinating, hesitating over a task he found unnerving and delaying the inevitable.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed Fenella's number.

She answered on the second ring. "Din?"

Her voice sent an unexpected jolt through him—the Scottish lilt he remembered was still there, though muted by decades away from her homeland.

"Hello, Fenella." He was surprised at how steady his own voice sounded. "I'm here, in one piece as promised, and I can't wait to see you."

"I know," she said. "Max texted me. I hope the two of you had a pleasant drive. Plenty to catch up on after fifty years, I imagine."

There was an edge to her tone that Din couldn't quite interpret. Wariness? Jealousy? Or simply the natural awkwardness of their situation?

"Surprisingly, it was not awkward," he admitted. "Though we barely scratched the surface."

"Mmm." The sound was noncommittal. "So, when do you want to meet?"

Direct as ever. Din smiled despite the nervousness fluttering in his stomach.

"Whenever you want," he said.