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“Grace! David! Where are you?” I just want to get out of here. I just want to get back to London.

I push on and soon come to a dead end, forcing me to backtrack and pick another route. But I persist, navigating twists and turns until finally, after what feels like much too long, I reach a metal staircase. I stop at the bottom, trying to get my bearings.

The stairs lead to a platform, on the other side of which is another staircase. This must be the maze’s centre, I realise. The idea must be that each lover ascends onto the platform, where they are reunited, with a view of the whole maze beneath them—symbolic, perhaps, of the twists and turns they went through in life before finding each other.

What gives me pause is that there’s a man on the platform, and it’s not David. He has his back to me, so I can’t get a proper look at him, but he’s wearing traditional Highland dress: a black jacket that shows off broad shoulders; a kilt of muted greens and blues crossed with red and white lines; and tall white socks with garter flashes in the same tartan as his kilt.

An odd mixture of attraction and mortification rushes through me. This man really pulls off the outfit—he looks good, very good—but he’s obviously waiting for his partner to arrive. Did I ruin a romantic experience for the pair by calling out Grace’s and David’s names repeatedly—and increasingly hysterically—as I made my way through the maze?

Oh God.

Part of me wants to hurry off before this man catches sight of me, but another part reckons I’d be able to spot Grace and David from the platform. Maybe I could just run up, see where they’re hiding, then bolt away again? I mean, I’ve already spoiled the couple’s special moment, so what’s another few seconds?

I take a few breaths, psyching myself up, then I go for it. I climb the stairs quickly, telling myself if he glances my way, I can just smile apologetically. That might work.

As soon as I reach the platform, he does turn to me, so I ready my apologetic smile—but then all the air leaves my lungs.

Wavy chestnut hair. Warm hazel eyes. Smart styled stubble. And a smile that lights up his entire face when he takes me in.

“Emily. You found me.”

“Ally? But . . . how?”

My heart is thumping fast. I don’t understand what’s going on.

“I couldn’t let you leave Scotland without trying to make things right.”

Just hearing his Highland brogue again sends a shiver down me.

“I couldn’t get through to you, and the only other contact information we had was Grace’s email. She didn’t reply for so long—I wasn’t sure she was going to—but then we heard from her as you were approaching the border.”

“Grace . . . was in on this?”

Things are falling into place. The sudden change in her demeanour started when she received a message from a yoga client—except it wasn’t really from a client. It was from Ally.

“Sorry, hun!”

I spin around to see Grace smiling up at me from the bottom of the stairs. David is with her, but so are others: Aidan, also in a kilt, plus Cat and Iona. Iona is beaming with a level of excitement I never saw in her during her trip to Bannock, while Cat is carrying a tablet. On its screen, I see . . . is that Lewis and Jamie, also in Highland dress?

“Hi, Emily!” Jamie waves at me from the screen.

“Sorry we can’t be there!” Lewis adds. “We’d have loved to drive down too, but we couldn’t abandon the hotel.”

“We dressed up for this call, though!” Jamie shows off his kilt, which matches Ally’s. The three boys must be wearing their family tartan. “The guests are loving it. We should dress up more often!”

“I . . .”

I can’t think what to say—I’m in shock—so instead I turn to Cat and Iona. Aidan must have come down with Ally, but the girls?

Cat guesses the question on my lips. “My brothers messaged me to tell me what was going on. There was no way I was missing this, so here we are!”

Nodding wordlessly, I face Ally. “And . . . what exactly is going on?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Er . . . here’s the thing: I wasn’t expecting this lot to show up so early. In my head, you and I were going to talk in private, and then—if all went well—they’d have jumped out and, I don’t know, cheered or whatever. Instead, here they are! This is going to be more awkward with an audience.”

He grins sheepishly and shrugs. “Well, I need to take more risks, right? I suppose this is as good a time as any to start. If I make a fool of myself, it’ll not only be in front of you but in front of all of them too.”

My legs tremble, and I have to hold on to the railing. My breaths come quick and shallow. I still can’t believe Ally is here. And in a kilt!