Page 213 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
MARY
The Interview
(Or How a Stubborn Sheep Has More Common Sense Than a Licensed Veterinarian)
Standing in front of the mirror in this castle bedroom that isn’t mine, I button my blazer with mechanical movements.
I study my reflection.
White blouse. Gray pencil skirt. Sensible heels.
In other words, my personal version of a woman who has her life together and makes rational decisions.
I sigh.
If only that were true.
I slept three hours.
Maybe four.
The rest of the night I spent staring at the ceiling, repeating the same thing over and over in my head:
You made the right choice.
Leaving is the only logical option.
You can’t stay here and keep running into Finn every day pretending your heart doesn’t break a little more each time.
My reflection stares back at me with eyes I barely recognize.
Dark circles.
Red-rimmed eyes.
Tight jaw.
I look like someone who lost something important.
Stop it. Focus.
I turn away from the mirror and grab my purse along with the notes for my interview at the veterinary clinic in Perthshire.
Their facilities are modern.
The staff is highly respected.
The salary is good, and the position comes with housing.
Basically everything I need for a fresh start.
Far away from here.
Far away from him.
I head downstairs, my heels clicking against the wooden staircase in a rhythm that sounds dangerously close to a funeral march.
The castle feels strangely quiet now that the Highland Games are over.
