Briony - July

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 13 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 15The vibrant blue and violet bouquet of flowers sitting in a blue stone vase on the kitchen island trumpets its presence, as I step into the chalet. Scratching my head, I close the front door and make my way towards the fragrant pretty blooms. After making lunch for Nick at the film set, it’s time to finish dinner, but I find myself mesmerized by the soft petals. This is the third bouquet this week, and they join a long string of bouquets that have popped up over the last few weeks. I love them…so I abruptly turn away. Alfie steps out of Nick’s suite, wearing his usual black pants and black button down, loosely holding an empty laundry basket under a burly arm. “Oh good,” he starts toward me. “You’re back already. I’ll head out in a few minutes for the afternoon shift. Is there anything you need me to buy while I’m out?” Shrugging off my motorcycle jacket to hang it in the closet, I shake my head. “No. I’ll visit the dairy myself tomorrow. I’m thinking of making ice cream.” He nods his salt and pepper, hedgehog-like hair, dropping his basket near the stairs, before coming over to sit at the kitchen island. “What flavors this time?” “Hm,” I approach the bouquet on the island and run a finger over a silky petal. “I’m not sure, but I’m thinking a vanilla chocolate almond, pistachio, and…maybe a salted caramel. Everyone deserves a treat every now an then.” Alfie gives one of his half smiles, nodding enthusiastically. “That’s a great idea, Bri. You always know just what Nick likes. But, let me ask you a question. What flavor ice cream do you want at your wedding?” “What are you talking about?” I frown, as I wash my hands. Alfie lifts a shoulder. “What do you think? The party celebrating nuptials. Nick bet me that you absolutely wouldn’t pick these flavors, but I don’t think so. It’s the perfect trifecta.” I smile at Alfie’s innocent look. His son, Antonio, has been married to Francesca for a couple of years now, so his recent obsession with wedding talk is highly suspicious. “Don’t even try it, Alfie. Evie told me months ago that you’ve been feeding her and Mum and Dad information about Nick and I for years. So, you can’t trick me into telling you whether or not I have feelings for Nick.” Alfie smiles genuinely as he leans over to pat me on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Bri. I’m just curious about whether or not you’d serve ice cream at your wedding.” I look at him dubiously, but he appears to be telling the truth. “Well, if you must know, nosey, I don’t think I’d serve ice cream,” I smile, turning on the water kettle. “Coffee? Tea?” “None for me.” Alfie’s brows lift as he then leans in conspiratorially. “So you’re not a fan of cake and ice cream?” I smirk, knowing that I’m playing right into his hands, but I’ve been dodging all of his wedding chat for weeks. Maybe having a little fun with him will get him to drop the subject altogether. “No, but I am a fan of high tea. Which I think would make the perfect reception to cap off a quiet afternoon ceremony. Maybe in a garden somewhere. What do you think?” Alfie momentarily looks horrified, but then he strokes his salt and pepper beard as he ponders my question. “Never thought of that, but I guess it depends on the season. An afternoon in New York City on January 3, is far different from, say, August 1. Both could be equally brutal for a garden wedding, but for different reasons.” “You’re right,” I nod, setting up my teacup and a plate of tea cookies. “Which is why I don’t want a winter or summer wedding. Spring or Fall is where it’s at, although spring is known to have more rain. I guess with the perfect venue, it wouldn’t matter if it rains or not.” Alfie nods, his eyes glinting as he squints at me. “What you said about the perfect venue with a garden, yet it not mattering if it rains or not..it leads me to wonder if that means tents or a brick and mortar event center?” I smirk playfully as a new thought occurs to me. “Must I do all the work and plan your whole wedding? Who’s the lucky woman anyway? And, when is the happy event?” The light immediately goes out of his dark eyes. “Seriously, Bri? I’ve been trying so hard not to step on anyone’s toes this whole time. And, this is the thanks I get?” I frown in confusion. “Ah, ok. So, you’re planning your imaginary..dream wedding? What is this, like fantasy football, except it’s for wedding decisions?” Alfie laughs a bit awkwardly, the rusty sound grating through the air. “Something like that. I’d better get going. What’s for dinner again?” Why is he acting so strange? I raise a brow. “Beef borscht with sour cream, and pumpernickel bread. In fact—” I remove the towels from the tray of loaves on the counter, and bring them over to the island. “—I need to start baking off the loaves. Will you take some down for the crew tomorrow?” Alfie nods as he shuffles back to the staircase to pick up the basket. “You know how much the crew loves when you send them stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s the reason why that Miss Raglan has been sniffing around Nick every day. She must be trying to figure out how to steal you away from him.” My mouth twists as I roll my eyes. “Can’t poach me if I’m not for sale, Alfie. Come September, Nick will have another chef she can try to poach.” Alfie shrugs a broad shoulder. “Since he won’t be traveling with Nick, I doubt anyone will even know who he is.” I whirl away from the loaves I’m organizing as the oven heats. “What do you mean, ‘he?’ Nick didn’t tell me you found someone!” “Of course I did,” he smiles. “His name is Romero, and he starts the week we get back. That way you can show him around the kitchen and get him acclimated, so he can start preparing meals while you get your truck off the ground.” My brows raise in surprise. “Wow, that’s super considerate of Nick. Thanks for working so hard on this, too. I’ll have to leave you a batch of cookies when I move.” The smile crumbles from Alfie’s face. “What do you mean, ‘when you move’? Why would you move?” The oven signals it’s hot, so I busy myself with getting the sheet pan in the oven as I answer. “Oh, you know how it is, Alf. How awkward would it be to be living on your old boss’ property? It’s better to make a clean break.” He scowls, putting his hands on his hips as he continues in his tone of disbelief. “No! You don’t get to ‘Alf’ me. Not on this. How can you leave?” My heart hurts at the thought, but I shove it down as I set a timer. When I look up, I see the shock and hurt in Alfie’s eyes, and take a deep breath. “It’s easier this way, Alf.” “That’s Alfonso, or even better, Mr. Cavallucci to the likes of you!” He shakes his head as he crosses his arms, approaching me. “Your permit for the truck is in the Bronx. What are you, gonna commute from Brooklyn? For what?” I smile gently, truly touched that he cares so much. “Why are you taking this so hard? It’s not like we won’t get together. You can still come over to my apartment and have dinner. Well, as soon as I find one.” I frown as I gnaw on my lip. The search hasn’t been going well, but I’m not worried. I can focus on that when we get home. I flinch when I notice Alfie’s hard gaze. “You have a perfectly good cottage that you already live in.” I place my hands on the cool marble countertop and level Alfie with a hard look of my own. “On my former boss’ property? It would be inappropriate to stay, Alfie. My Dad would never understand, and besides…I refuse to take advantage of Nick.” Alfie quirks a brow as he also leans on the countertop, his outraged voice becoming more conciliatory. “How is it inappropriate? It’s a roof over your head. If you’re worried about how it looks, pay him rent.” I scoff. “We both know he won’t accept it.” He scowls at me. “No, he won’t..because you love each other.” I rock back on my heels, suddenly feeling tired. I rub the eye that’s beginning to throb. “What’s your point, Alf?” For the first time in the eight years that I’ve known him, the 6’3 tank of a man is rendered speechless. As he stares at me, mouth agape, I spin toward the fridge to pull out the dinner ingredients I prepped this morning. “How can you be so casual about it?” Alfie sputters behind me. I shrug my shoulders. “Love is a fact. I may not understand everything about it, but I know there are different kinds of love. Nick and I are friends. Inviting anything else is asking for trouble. I’m best friends with his sister. What happens if we date and things go poorly? Well, then, he’s stuck with his ex, because I refuse to give up Evie over being too naive to know better.” Flirting had been a mistake, and I admit, I’d wanted to believe Evie when she said that was the way to go about things. That was my fault. When Nick nearly kissed me all those weeks ago, I never wanted anything more, nor felt so disappointed when it didn’t materialize. Later, when I was thinking clearly, I was actually glad it didn’t happen. I may be in love with him, and he may love me, but that doesn’t mean we need to wreck everything over it. We could keep going as we have. I’ll just avoid looking at his mouth for the rest of my life. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Alfie is staring at me, motionless. “I know you’re scared, Briony, but that’s not a reason not to try. Isn’t that what you told Nick, when he was debating whether or not to do Hamlet on Broadway?” My head snaps up as his words hit me. “That’s…different, Alf. That’s a job. Jobs change all the time.” Alfie scrubs a hand down his face. “This is a conversation you should be having with Nick.” “Oh, not you, too,” I sigh. “I’ve already got Evie on my case. Even Nick doesn’t push for it anymore.” Alfie huffs with a shake of his head. “The poor guy is head over heels, and like he said, he’s willing to wait on you until he’s dust. So, don’t just keep him on the hook forever. Do the decent thing, and let him know. Maybe he’ll be able to heal at some point in the future and move on. Poor guy.” Alfie turns away then, leaving me to the chaos he unleashed in my otherwise calm seas. Is that what I’ve been doing? By not discussing it, was I giving Nick hope that one day I’ll change my mind? My stomach begins churning when my eyes land on the stunning bouquet in front of me. Alfie comes back downstairs with the keys to the van. Since we’re so close to the filming location, he walks there and back in between shifts, even in the rain. I’m pretty sure he’s former military, but it’s more likely I’ll never know. He doesn’t look at me as he walks past the kitchen. I glance at the flowers on the island once more. “Oh, and Alfie?” He pauses near the door, though he doesn’t turn around. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t encourage Nick anymore. He can quit with the flowers already. They’re beautiful, and I love them, but he must be spending a small fortune on them, not to mention the delivery fees.” Alfie quietly spins around, his face an unreadable mask. “Nick isn’t buying them, Briony.” I blink at him. “What? Are they gifts?” If Amelia is being this forward, I may need to rethink her threat level. I shake my head. What’s wrong with me? I just said I don’t want the man in that way…although that isn’t true either. I look up and catch the curious look that crosses Alfie’s face. “No, at least not from someone else. Nick has been picking flowers from around the film site and other locations on sunny afternoons. He doesn’t even let me clean and arrange them; he does that on his own. My only job is to set them out so you can see them when you get back from lunch.” I blink at Alfie in shock. Nick’s been going around picking flowers? For me? He’s just been silently sending his love, letting me know that he’s thinking about me, even when he’s at work? The wave of warmth that washes over me is only outdone by the horror that I may have underestimated his feelings. Alfie peers at me and nods, apparently satisfied with what he sees. He’s smiling when he turns to the door. “By the way,” he calls out. “Nick said those flowers are called Gentian. They represent courage, resilience..love and affection. If you want the flowers to stop coming, you’ll have to tell him yourself.” I vaguely nod, barely noticing as the door closes. I return to cooking, but my mind is elsewhere. I’m sure there’s some small chance that we won’t destroy our friendship and seriously alter the foundations of my friendship with Evie and their parents. But, who’s willing to take that bet? Still…Alfie’s words ring in my ears. I’m so confused. I cycle in the next loaves of bread as I finish off my beef and get the vegetables going, all the while turning it over in my mind. Wyn would have me believe that love is easy. Just reach out for it and everything seems to work out. But, if that’s the case, why are there so many people unhappily in love? Mom and Dad are exceptions. Mum and Dad are too, for that matter. So, why am I holding back? Alfie says I’m scared, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s probably right. So, what am I afraid of? When the bread and borscht are finished, I head into my room, changing into a pair of light denim shorts, and a crocheted coral top that I throw on over my tank top. After making a cup of tea, I bring it out on the back deck, and curl up in a rocking chair, inhaling the warm, summer air. The view of the Alps is phenomenal, but my eyes see nothing as I blankly stare out over the lake. Slipping my hair tie off, I massage my scalp a bit before taking a few sips of my blueberry hibiscus tea. Hmm. That’s always one of my favorite combinations. Sitting my cup down, a gentle breeze begins to blow. As my bare foot taps against the rattan table in front of me, it sets the chair gently rocking. Feeling a bit calmer, I take a deep breath and close my eyes to go over the conversation with Alfie again. I can admit, I’m terrified that we won’t work out. Let’s face it. Nick’s life is huge. He’s rarely at home, traveling eight months out of twelve, and when he is at home? It’s an endless stream of interviews, promotions, award shows, auditions…the list is endless really. Where will I fit in with my little food truck business? When will I fit in? Or, would being with him mean giving up on my dream completely? And, there it is. The real fear…that I’ll tie myself up in Nick so completely, that I could never leave, and take on my own adventure. But, is that fear enough to keep me on the sidelines? My brain snags on a detail when Alfie brought up Amelia. I’d felt this surge of possessiveness unlike any I’d felt before. There were high school crushes, but Mom and Dad were against the idea of dating while in school, so I never felt like any of those guys were truly mine. Yet, with Nick…while I’ve noticed Amelia’s antics when I arrive on location for lunch, Nick doesn’t seem to spare her a single thought outside of their scenes. Scenes that turn my stomach if I’m being perfectly honest. At this point in filming, it’s clear that the Wing Commander and farmer’s daughter have moved past their mutual dislike, to understanding and care. The scene today where they make gooey eyes at each other while caring for an injured sheep they rescued, might have irritated me. Yet, when Andrew yelled cut, Nick dove away from Amelia. I smiled in amusement at the look of disbelief that crossed her face, before she tried to lean closer to say something to him. He stood up then, and as he spun away, he caught my eye and winked. I turned and hurried back to the van, hoping my overheated face would return to normal before he came in for lunch. My breath catches as realization dawns. If I’m only going to love him like a friend, doesn’t that mean I have to anticipate an ‘Amelia,’ or someone like her coming between us, at some point? I may be able to pursue my dream without my love for him keeping me wrapped in his bubble. But, do I really believe I can keep Nick at arms length, and be happy watching him date and marry another woman? That I’ll be able to celebrate special occasions with them and their kids? A sick feeling of horror washes over me. No. Absolutely not. If anything, I’d end up running farther and farther away from him and Evie, because I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I groan. “I’m an idiot.” “You’re beautiful.” My eyes fly open to see Nick leaning against the railing, watching me. The sun is lower than I expected, and as its golden rays reflect off his hair as it stirs in the gentle breeze, my heart starts racing. I can only stare as a little smile stretches across his face, his blue eyes alight with curiosity. “While I can’t speak to the accuracy of your statement, I can at least assure you the subject is beautiful.” I pull my lips into my mouth as I try to calm my racing heart. This seems to amuse Nick, who pushes off the railing and pulls the other rocking chair closer to me before sitting down. He’s changed out of his slacks and knit top, into a pair of khaki cargo shorts, and an old yellow Buc-ee’s t-shirt I’d bought for him on one of our trips to Texas. The playful cartoon beaver’s face disappears as Nick folds his hands across his flat stomach and sets his own chair rocking. I’m now completely wrapped in his spicy lemon lavender cloud as pieces of the puzzle fall in place. “Alfie said you have something you wanted to discuss,” he quietly murmurs, staring out at the view. Good grief, is Alfie serious right now? Can a girl have two minutes to figure stuff out first? My gaze swings to Nick in surprise, but he continues rocking as he looks out at the holiday goers playing on the lake in the distance. As I continue to gaze at him, I rest my head against the back of my chair, and for the first time in years, I allow myself to drink him in. With his strong eyebrows set over striking pale blue eyes, the tall straight nose with its light sprinkling of summer freckles, that bottom lip that’s slightly fuller than the top and enticingly sits over his slightly dimpled chin, he’s a green light that could stop traffic. His is a face that’s easy to love, but I love all of the things the fans can’t see. How he carries his tall, muscular frame gracefully, confident, as though he were on a runway, even when he’s not in front of a camera. How he works out relentlessly because it’s part of his job, and he takes it as seriously as learning his lines. Yet, he’ll just as eagerly eat a potato if it’s put in front of him, without guilt or a need to persecute himself. How we can disagree, sometimes being completely opposed, yet, he remains quiet and never punishes me despite his irritation. We just get over it together. How he’ll look at me in a way that sets my heart on fire, then tease me in the next breath. How he can push me to defend myself, but be the first one to my defense. And I would give him up, why? Because of fear that we won’t be able to make it work, and I’m afraid to lose him? It makes no sense. If I don’t take the leap, then I lose him to someone who will love and appreciate him as I fade from his life. And, if I do take the leap? Maybe we don’t botch it up? I sigh. If Evie was right all along, I will never hear the end of this. First, I have a decision to make. Then, at some point, I’ll have to talk to Nick. When his lips quirk up, I know he’s aware I’ve been staring, but he doesn’t move. So, I allow myself the opportunity take in how good he looks despite the giant cartoon beaver on his chest. How his muscles are understated despite the work that I know he puts into them. He’s more of a Daniel Craig in that way than a Thor. Just then, Nick playfully flexes his bicep, and I blink. Ok, maybe I have to re-evaluate this. He’s clearly been working out more than I realized. I know he’s been bulking but…wow. “Where are your glasses?” I blurt out, needing to change the subject. Nick glances at me, offering a lazy smile. These heart palpitations are a serious problem. “I left them in my room.” I clear my throat as I look out at the lake. “How can you see anything without your contact lenses?” When I glance at him, he’s giving me one of those scorching looks. “I can see what matters.” Annnd….yep. I’ve stopped breathing, until his eyes soften in amusement. “How did you know I took my contacts out?” I’m still in a daze as I respond without thinking. “Because you’re like a woman and her bra, Nick. They have to come out as soon as you walk through the door.” Nick’s bark of laughter clears the fog in my head. What did I just say? “So, the bra is the first thing a woman takes off? Not her shoes? She doesn’t even let her hair down first?” He asks, flicking my curls back and forth. He chuckles when I bat at his hand in irritation, “You’d better believe it. I’d take it off before I reached the front door if I could. Those things are the worst contrapt—” My brain stutters as I realize, too late, that I’ve pretty much outed myself. I’m not a busty woman by any means, but I’m not flat chested either. If someone were staring, they would notice the lack of support. Doesn’t mean I need to draw attention to it. Resisting the urge to throw my arms over my chest, I peek at Nick. He’s giving me one of his highly amused, crinkly eyed smiles, but he maintains eye contact. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He asks, graciously changing the the subject. I smile gratefully. “I love my flowers, thank you. But, Alfie is a terrorist. I just want you to know that.” Nick’s smile begins to fade. “What did he do now? I told him not to bother you with his wedding nonsense.” “What’s that about anyway?” I ask. “It’s not like he’s getting married. Is he even dating?” Nick shrugs a shoulder. “Would we know unless it became relevant?” Picking up my cup of tea, I take a sip of the now cold brew. “Planning a wedding sounds like something is pretty relevant.” Nick shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair. All the time spent filming in the sun has bleached it a lighter blonde that causes the smattering of grey hair at his temples to nearly disappear. His hair is also growing out for the production, and as it falls over his ears, it gives him a more youthful look. “Do you like your hair at this length?” I ask, again, running a hand through the waves curling at the back of his neck without thinking. Nick looks at me, surprise registering on his face as I snatch my hand back. What’s wrong with me today? “Hm. I never thought about it. I thought you said I looked like a hitchhiking surfer when I had long hair in The Body Shop.” He’s laughing at me, but I still can’t resist the bait. “I said you looked like a hitchhiker or a surfer. The point was, it didn’t make you look like a psychopathic killer.” Nick chuckles. “I’m pretty sure that was the idea, my life.” I still haven’t figured out why Nick uses his life as a reference in our conversations. I chalked it up to some actor thing, but still. It’s weird. “Why do you ask about my hair, anyway? Do you like it at this length?” “Hmm.” I’m running another hand through his thick hair before I know it. When he freezes as my fingers graze his scalp, I snatch my hand back. “Yep. It’s nice. It makes you look younger.” Nick studies my face so carefully, I’m afraid it’s going to become the new Rosetta Stone. “And, I look better when I look younger?” “Um, I mean, you look good whether you’re younger or not.” He grins wickedly. “So, you think I look good for my age, or that I look good in general?” All the air puffs right out of my lungs as my mouth dries. “Both?” I squeak. He slowly nods as he runs a hand through his hair. Before I can process anything, he reaches over, and plucking my forgotten cup from my hand, he gulps down my tea. “It’s cold—” I barely get out before he deposits the now empty mug in my hand. “Sorry, I was feeling extraordinarily thirsty,” Nick smirks. I shake my head as I stand. What even is this day? “No problem. Do you want more tea? Or do you want dinner?” Nick nods as he calmly regards me. “I would absolutely love more tea, but dinner first, love.” He follows me in, holding the door so that I enter the house ahead of him. And, although he tried to be casual about it, I totally caught him checking me out. Lord, please save me from myself.← Previous Chapter: Chapter 13 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 15Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe