Making Love (Destiny Book 1) (14 page)

“I have four thousand two hundred in savings,” I told them, taking a sip of my water.

“Well, yes, but I thought that maybe… Will-” Mary continued.

“Excuse me a moment, I need the loo.”

I headed thorough to the front of the restaurant but I bypassed the restrooms and approached the till.

“Can I help you, Ma’am?” the maître d asked as I approached.

“I’d like to pay the bill for Greystone, please.”

“Certainly, Ma’am.”

“Do you have something I could write on? I’d like to leave a message.”

“Of course.” He handed me a pad with the restaurant’s logo on, and a pen.

‘I wanted to reconnect with my father. You wanted a loan.

Enjoy your dinner, it’s the only money you’ll ever get out of me.

Never contact me again.

P.S. my name is spelled ELEANOR’

“Would you like me to hail a cab?” he asked as I wrote. I didn’t know if he could read upside down, and I didn’t particularly care.

“Yes, please.”

He signalled to the doorman. I paid the bill on my credit card, leaving a generous tip (it wasn’t the restaurant’s fault I was on the verge of tears) then I handed him the folded note and headed outside.

I gave the cab driver my friend, Marie’s address, and I texted her on the way to be sure she didn’t have company.

The driver tried chatting to me but it was all I could do to hold my tears at bay and I didn’t even register he’d spoken until he repeated himself. I answered but he quickly gave up on the idea of chatting to me.

Marie opened the front door as my cab pulled up and enveloped me in a hug on the doorstep. I thought I’d managed to hold it together but evidently my misery was visible to everyone.

Her small act of kindness was my undoing and I began to howl.

When my flood of tears became a trickle, she brought me inside, opened the vodka and got two glasses out.

“Do you have whisky?” I asked, still sniffling.

“I think Jim might.” She went back to the cupboard. “We’ve got some Grant’s, is that okay?”

“Please.”

“Sit yourself down,” she said, pointing to the kitchen table.

I did, watching as she got ice out and poured us both generous measures.

“So,” she said, handing me my glass as she sat opposite. “Tonight didn’t go well?”

“I was right, he was only interested in me for Will, and as if that isn’t bad enough, it was only Will’s money he’s after.” I began to cry again and Marie moved a box of tissues closer.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“I don’t know if I can do this any more,” I admitted my worst fear.

“See your dad?”

“No. I mean, I won’t see him again, but I was talking about Will.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” I wailed. I told her all about tonight, then the book publicity tour the publishers now wanted me to do, the magazine articles that already called me ‘Will Braxton’s Girlfriend’ and spread lies about me. Then I told her about my other fears, of being eclipsed by Will and his career, and about his offer to move in and how I was worried about losing sight of who I was. “The worst thing is, it’s all really unfair because none of it’s his fault but… I don’t know, it’s like… it’s like he’s some massive gravitational event and everything in our lives revolves around him. I’ve even switched to his favourite drink,” I said, waiving my whisky around as proof.

“But that same pull is what attracted you, isn’t it?”

“Not his fame. I’d be in heaven right now if he wasn’t famous.”

“Have you told him any of this?”

“God, no! You’ve never seen him when he’s acting, but it’s… it’s like there’s this light that goes on inside him and you can just see that not only does he love it, he was born to do it. If I told him how I feel, I’d worry he might feel as if I was asking him to choose between me and his career, and I’d never do that.”

“So you’d rather break up with him, than let him choose?”

“I don’t know what I want, Marie.”

“Okay,” Marie sipped her drink. “So how would you feel if Will was in a different career?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, say he was a CEO or something, his career would eclipse yours too, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Could you live with that?”

I considered the question. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I guess I just always thought I’d end up with some arty or slightly geeky guy, and our careers would be sort of equal, with a bit of give and take when we had children.”

“Well, you
are
dating an arty, slightly geeky guy, aren’t you?”

I actually laughed at that. I’d meant an illustrator or IT guy but she was right, Will did fit my description perfectly.

“Okay, so does Will support your career?”

“Of course. He even tweets about my projects sometimes.”

“And your friends and family, do they ask about Will before you?”

“Of course not… well, maybe Mum does sometimes.”

“Because we all know what a stellar human being she is,” Marie rolled her eyes. “So if he loves and supports you, and your family and friends love and support you, what do you care about some strangers on the internet, or some gossip rag?”

“I tell myself the same thing,” I admitted. “But it’s easier said than done.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. As for your career, meeting Will might just be the boost you need to break into the big time.”

“I don’t want to succeed on his back!”

“Sweetie, success isn’t only about hard work it’s also about good luck, being in the right place at the right time. Life is often about who you know, not what you know, and that’s true for everyone. Doesn’t Will say Keith Bolton gave him his big break?”

I nodded.

“And does he deserve his success?”

“Of course!”

“Then maybe Will can be your big break, because I know you deserve it too.” She reached out and took my hand. “He will complicate your life, no doubt, but in many ways he can also brighten it. Take the things you don’t like, like the interest in your life, and turn that to your benefit. Use it to help sell the children’s books, use it to be offered bigger and better contracts. Use it to raise money for your favourite cause.”

I nodded slowly, seeing some sense in what she was saying.

“And if you ever feel as if you’re losing yourself, just come around here and I’ll smack some sense into you.”

I smiled, then I sighed. “I feel like I’ve just had a meltdown over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, your Dad was using you and magazines are asking people to dish dirt on you. You do have a right to feel beleaguered, but I also know how strong you are. Don’t let these people spoil something incredible.”

“You think what we have is incredible?” I asked.

Marie smiled. “I think the two of you are perfect for each other,” she assured me. “And he is totally smitten, by the way.”

She hadn’t met him often but we had been out a few times with Will and Jim.

We chatted a little longer, me asking about her life and how things were with Jim.

“Where is he, by the way?”

“I sent him down the pub when you texted,” she smiled.

“You kicked him out of the house for me?!”

Marie shrugged.

“How did you know I was this upset?”

“Because the only times you text, asking if you can come round, are when you need a shoulder. The rest of the time you make plans for a later date, like a civilised human being,” she teased me.

“Thanks, Marie.” It’s good to have friends who know you that well. “And apologise to Jim for me.”

“I’m sure he’s in heaven, there’s rugby on tonight.”

“And thanks for talking me down from the brink.”

“Well, you put up with weeks of my crying and wailing when you first moved into the apartments, I figured you were owed a little tea and sympathy.” Six weeks after I’d moved into my flat, Marie, who had been in the same building, had found out she’d been cheated on. Her trauma, or specifically, her camping out on my sofa almost every evening for the best part of two months, had soon cemented our fledgling friendship.

I left soon after that and called Will from the cab as I went home.

“Hello, darling. How was your evening?”

“Eugh! Some other time. Right now, I want to know what you’re doing tomorrow.”

“Uh, nothing, as far as I know. Why?”

“Because I’ve decided to live in sin with this delicious man I’ve met, and I wondered if you’d help me move.”

“Anyone I know?”

“You might know him. He’s really tall, has this messy, slightly curly hair that looks sexy as hell first thing in the morning, and he makes the best cooked breakfast in the whole of London.”

“He sounds like a keeper,” Will played along.

“Yeah, I agree. So, can you give me a hand?”

“I think I can spare a couple of hours. Not too long though, my girlfriend is moving in tomorrow, and we’re going to need to christen every surface in the place.”

I laughed. “Haven’t you already?”

“Well yeah, every surface in my home, but none in
our
home.”

Sometimes he said the best things.

The cab pulled up outside my apartment and I paid, then carried on talking to Will as I made my way inside. We chatted on speaker while I changed, then I climbed into bed. He stayed on the phone with me until I grew drowsy enough to sleep, my father’s antics just a distant memory, at least for now.

***

“What are you going to do with the place?” Will asked me as he helped me pack. There was a lot of stuff I didn’t need to take, duplicates of kitchen equipment for example, but there were some things I had that Will didn’t.

“I thought I’d rent it. I should get enough to cover the mortgage and it’ll be an investment, our retirement fund or something. I’ll call some agents next week, see what I have to do.”

It sounded pretty silly, considering that Will earned more for one movie than this whole apartment was worth. Still, there was no point in throwing away an asset, I might be grateful of it one day.

“Good plan. What about your stuff?”

“Once I’m sure I have everything I need, I thought I might call a few homeless charities, see if they can make use of anything. It’s all in good condition and nothing’s older than four years.”

“That’s a great idea.”

Once we got to Will’s, I found that he had cleaned out half his wardrobe and drawers for me, and had put a table opposite his desk in his sunroom, until I could move my desk over.

I unpacked my clothes and when I went into the office, I found Will had paused in unpacking my traditional art supplies and was looking through one of my sketch pads. I didn’t do much drawing on paper any more but I always had a few pads around.

“You’re not supposed to look in there,” I said, cringing at his reaction.

“These are amazing!” he grinned at me.

“Really?”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t like them?”

“Because not everyone likes caricatures. My Mum used to call them cruel.”

“They’re not cruel,” he said, still flipping through. “I love things like this.”

“I’m not sure your friends would agree.” I’d drawn most of his friends and colleagues over the course of our relationship; I’m always looking for new inspiration.

“I’m sure they’d love them. Can I send this to Lee?”

He showed me the page. “As long as you don’t think he’ll be mad.”

“He’ll love it, and is this John?”

I nodded, he was looking through my most recent pad, which included people from his premiere in LA.

“He’d adore that too. Nathan, Maria, Mandy.”

“They’re just cartoons.”

“Why do you draw them only to hide them?”

“I don’t hide them, I just don’t show them off. And I draw them because I can refer back to them for inspiration… and because my mum hated them.”

“One in the eye,” he grinned.

“Exactly.”

Obviously he asked about my father and eventually I told him what had happened and although it wasn’t his fault, he apologised. Then he cuddled me for ages, before christening the kitchen counter with me until I couldn’t think straight. After that he cooked me a wonderful dinner and sat through The Notebook with me.

He really was, as my friend Laurie said, a keeper.

***

Other than a few small, local projects, like radio programs, voiceovers, an audio book and I seem to recall something about narrating a documentary series, Will didn’t have any film work scheduled before Christmas.

Next year was going to be a busy one with three Shadow Watch movies lined up. Firebolt 3 was shooting at the beginning of the year, and the next two Sentinels movies were filming back to back after a two month break. He had decided to extend his contract and give his character a proper send off, although the bastard wouldn’t tell me what he’d discussed during his talks with the director, and he knew how much I loved Dante!