Ever Blue Presents: More Than Enough- A Chapter Crush Sweetheart Series

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 22 /|\ 5 months later…BrionySpinning the sapphire and diamond oval engagement ring on my finger, trepidation marches down my spine as I wait for Evie in the blue and ivory drawing room. Now that the ceremony is about to begin, I’m ready to get on with it, but I can’t do that without my Matron of Honor. “She’ll be here,” Bronwyn mutters, frowning down at her phone for the 20th time. “I know, I know,” I sigh, once again shifting on the cream damask couch. “But, it feels like it’s been ten minutes since she said they were five minutes away.” “It’s only been four minutes, Bri. Take a deep breath…exhale.” I take my sister’s advice, but as I look up at her, I notice she’s still glued to her phone. Her long curls are pulled up into an elegant chignon, which is a nice change since she normally wears her hair down. Paired with the off the shoulder wine and navy gradient chiffon dress that floats over her lithe curves, Bronwyn’s a vision. Where I prefer to eat for exercise, Bronwyn exercises to eat. So, while we are identical, I’m softer where she’s more toned. She and Evie are sharing Maid and Matron of Honor duties, so they have the same gown, but taking her in, I think Bronwyn is winning best dressed today. “If it’s work, tell them I said you’re on vacation,” I grumble, folding my arms. Her lips are pressed together when she looks up at me. “It’s fine. Are you ok?” I smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be? All I had to do was show up and marry my best friend.” Bronwyn snorts as her phone buzzes once again. I slowly shake my head as I think of new ways to kill the man of my dreams. Who throws a surprise wedding..for the bride? If I wasn’t absolutely certain that I’m in love with the man, I’d certainly think it’s a shotgun wedding. Does it count as an arranged marriage if the wedding is planned with your assistance but without your knowledge? It’s one thing for Nick not to tell me about it when we finally sorted out our feelings. Fine. That could be excused, because it does sound slightly unhinged when taken out of context. But, what about the night before he left for New Zealand? When he rented out the rooftop restaurant in Midtown and decorated the place in fresh flowers to propose? That would have been a fine time. Maybe after his pretty speech. “You have my heart, Briony. It’s always been yours. Marry me. Please. Spend the rest of your life with me, and we’ll figure everything else out, the schedules, the trucks…our children, if you’ll bear them for me.” When he slid the ring on, a simple, ‘by the way, love, we’re getting married in March’ would have sufficed. I probably would have heard him over the sound of my blubbering. Probably. Or any of the late nights we spent talking through video calls. Not counting the week I took off in December to spend with him in New Zealand, or the week he flew back in January to spend with me in London as we worked out the logistics for Night’s launch in September. But, to show up for a fancy party at the manor house of a Bakewell country estate, which could have guest starred in any number of Pride and Prejudice adaptations, with a mere week’s notice that you’re getting married…well..let’s just say, I’m still thawing from the shock. Yet, as the time ticks closer to 3pm, I’m thoroughly warming to the idea of walking out of here as Nick’s wife. Being able to sleep beside the man who has my heart and life in his hands? It’s worth it for the snuggles alone! Yep…where do I sign, Mr. Officiant? Add the fact we’ll be starting our family, and I’m wondering why we’re still sitting in this room! Between the success of Day and the remodel we’re doing for Night, I’ve been so busy I haven’t even been able to see Bronwyn, except for family dinner, or the odd lunch date. Yes, we talk on the phone, but I really miss spending time with her. I’ll have to do better about that. We’ll be in England for the next little while, if there isn’t a surprise honeymoon as well. But, when Nick and I get back to New York, I’m going to make sure I spend more time with her. Now that Nick has finished shooting an adaptation of a book by one of his favorite thriller authors, Callum Black, he’ll be around more. He’s playing the deductively brilliant Detective Ian Faulk in Apple & Anise, and since I enjoyed the series once he got me into it, I’m looking forward to going to the movie premier with him. While there’s no talk of movie sequels yet, Nick did confirm the author reached out to him, and offered to sign him on for the audio books. After seeing Nick’s performance in Warmth Like the Sun, which was a runaway success over the holidays, Mr. Black said his wife wouldn’t let him sleep until he reached out to make an offer. At any rate, it’s not something Nick will have to worry about until the fall, and thankfully, it won’t involve any travel. Even better news is that Nick decided to do MacBeth after all. He’ll only have a few weeks in London until we need to head back to New York to start rehearsals at the end of April. So, baby Evie had better come on time so I can get my cuddles. Speaking of Evie..where is she? Crossing over to the door, I keep a firm grip on the strapless white gown that drapes my curves in tulle, lace, and crystal. Thankfully it’s lightweight, but there’s no need in tripping and killing myself. Not when I’m this close to marrying the love of my life. With my strappy white heels clicking on the parquet floors, I cross the room to peek out of the door. Arching my neck to see down the hallway lined with massive portraits, I let out an impatient sigh just as Evie comes huffing around the corner. When she catches sight of me, she squeals, causing me to squeal in return. After nearly collapsing in laughter as Bronwyn and I try to hug over her enormous belly, I pull up a chair and help her sit. “You’re gorgeous, darlings! I can’t believe it’s really here!” Evie exclaims, squealing with Bronwyn. I squint at them. “Were y’all colluding behind my back as well?” Bronwyn chuckles. “Did you think Mom and Dad would come with zero incentive? Even if the trip was paid for, you know them. It would take a destination wedding to get them out of Brooklyn!” “You’re so right!” I say completely dumbfounded. I did think they agreed too easily, but still. My eyes widen as I stare at Bronwyn. “And you! When do you ever take off from work? Yet, you’ve been here two weeks already, and plan to stick around until after Evie gives birth…” my voice trails off as I feel the blood drain from my face. “Did you lose your job, Wyn?” Bronwyn holds up a hand, as she comes to wrap her arms around me. “No, I didn’t lose my job. I just have some vacation time..and perspective. That’s all.” Evie snorts, her cute new bangs shaking with her movements. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it, now? Don’t make me laugh, Wyn. You know I can’t control my bladder.” Bronwyn has always been the chill one. She serenely floats from room to room, and never causes any trouble. So, I’m as surprised as I am baffled when she shoots Evie the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen, and, that’s saying a lot. I shared a room with her for 21 years! Evie snickers in return, and as my eyes bounce between the two of them, I feel like I’m missing something. “What’s going on?” Bronwyn shifts from side to side. “Nothing that can’t wait until after the wedding.” I frown. “Well, at least give me a preview…” Bronwyn heaves a sigh, likely knowing I’ll worry about it until she tells me. “I’m just thinking of a change. I’ll be here interviewing for a few companies for the next three weeks, and Evie and Gene are graciously allowing me to extend my stay with them until I get on my feet.” I reel back in shock as Evie shifts to her side with a finger up. “Free childcare, remember!” Bronwyn snorts. “Yeah, yeah, I got it!” “But, that’s great news Wyn! Your job has been taking advantage of you for years! I’m so glad you’re finally putting yourself first! And, Nick and I will be here at least six months out of the year..this is so exciting!” Bronwyn smiles, but it’s more of a grimace as it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Before I can say anything, there’s a knock on the door. Alfie steps in with our permission, looking dapper in his navy suit and wine colored ascot. He and Eugene are going to escort Bronwyn and Evie respectively, but I can tell his mind is on the arrangements and not the moment. “Relax, Alf,” I say, crossing the room to give him a hug. “You’ve done a beautiful job. You have no idea how grateful for you, Nick and I are.” His dark features twist into a scowl as he looks down at me. “Is this supposed to be gratitude? I don’t know if I like it…that man just laid the juiciest kiss on my cheek and told me to fetch his wife.” Bronwyn, Evie and I crack up at the look of disgust on his face as he asks if we’re ready. It takes us two minutes to recover, and another minute to fix makeup before we are indeed ready. “You’re beautiful, Bri,” Alfie says, holding the door open with a watery smile. “Thanks, Alf.” I kiss his cheek before walking past him, and as I step into the corridor with my lily bouquet, I spin around to wink at my little entourage with a grin. “Let’s go get him!”Nicholas “Ladies and Gentleman, I present Mr. And Mrs. Nicholas and Briony Bancroft!” The officiant loudly declares. Gazing down at Briony’s radiant smile makes my heart joyfully skip a beat. And, as our families erupt in thunderous applause, only one thought blares at me: Briony is really mine. After months of sitting on the phone through tears and laughter, sharing our annoyances, sadness and joy, as surely as I belong to her she also belongs to me. That thought fills me with so much wonder that I happily pull her in for another kiss. “Alright, boss, save some of it for the honeymoon!” Alfie distantly calls out to laughter and cheers. I can hear my nephews losing their minds with the rest of the family, but I’m only able to break away when Briony laughs against my lips. “Where is that honeymoon again?” She whispers, raising a brow. “Exactly where you wanted, my life. We’re going home,” I smile. As her eyes widen and she smiles in delight, I smile in return as I whisper, “Are you happy, Mrs. Bancroft?” “Incandescently,” she grins with a wink, before we’re overcome by a sea of hugs and congratulations. The area for the reception is just as beautiful as the room where the ceremony was held. Soft lighting warms the wood paneling and illuminates the tall vases bursting with early spring blooms. After sitting down to dine at the long table that’s been provided for our party of 14, we ooh and ahh over our place settings as everyone chats amiably over the goat cheese and pear salad. Light dinner music plays as Briony’s parents converse with mine, and I smile, thrilled that everyone is able to get on so well. Then again, it’s not the first family dinner. The activities that Alfie, Briony and I planned for the week leading up to today, meant there was plenty of time to get acquainted. I’m just so happy that everyone was able to make it. BANG! One of the large wooden doors vibrates when it slams open as a broad shouldered man runs into the room. His dark, medium length hair whips around as he wildly glances about. As he’s wearing a fairly expensive looking navy three-piece suit, I realize he must be part of another party and gotten lost. Yet, before Alfie can stand up, we look on in shock as two of the security personnel burst through the door and make a grab for the man. He deftly skirts them as he runs toward us looking around our table. When his eyes land on Briony, he momentarily freezes long enough for one of the security men to get a hold on his shoulder. It’s when he effortlessly spins out of the hold, and in three moves that I missed because I blinked, has the two security guys kneeling on the ground holding their midsections as they try to catch their breath, that I think there may be a problem. Due to a few isolated events over the years, Alfie usually hires ex-military to handle my security when it’s called for. They usually don’t have much more to do than shake off a couple of overzealous members of paparazzi, yet, the agility with which the man is able to shake them off has me standing at the same time that Alfie jumps up and rushes toward him. “Wait! Stop!” Briony cries out, causing me to look back at her in confusion. However, I realize it wasn’t Briony when I see her gaping at Bronwyn. My new sister in-law is bracing herself against the table where she shot up, staring at the man who has thankfully halted his progress. However, Alfie’s fist is already sailing towards the man’s face when I yell, “No, Alfie!” I’m too late. Or I would be, if the man hadn’t nimbly ducked under his arm, executing a brilliant parkour move as he shoved Alfie off balance, and once again rushed toward the table. “Stop!” Bronwyn bellows, freezing the man in his tracks. “Winnie, please give me a moment!” The man exclaims, his softly accented voice laced with pain. Is he French? Someone has stopped the dinner music, because it’s quiet as Bronwyn’s chest heaves up and down while she silently stares at him. Briony and I look at each other and mouth, ‘Winnie?’ “Would someone please explain what’s going on?” Joe demands as he stands up, his eyes bouncing between his daughter and the interloper. Bronwyn starts to say, “It’s just a big misunderstanding,” at the same time that the man says, “I sincerely apologize for the intrusion, I didn’t expect to meet this way.” “What way is that? Who are you?” Joe asks as Tonya pulls on his arm trying to get him to sit down. “Not now, Joe,” she hisses looking between their daughter and the stranger with an apologetic smile. The man slowly approaches, his grey blue eyes never leaving Bronwyn’s face as he quietly responds to her father’s question in French. “Certainly not by crashing her sister’s wedding.” “Well, that’s a relief,” I smirk, also responding in French. He acknowledges me with a nod, before returning his attention to Bronwyn, who appears to finally be melting from her tenure as a statue. “Gale, Turner, thank you, we’re fine,” I call to the two security men who are awkwardly standing around trying to figure out what’s going on. As they leave, I nod at Alfie who rolls his eyes, but comes to stand behind Briony and Bronwyn. “I said everything I had to say in the letter. So, what are you doing here, Michel?” Bronwyn calmly asks, her face a blank mask that brings a distinct chill to the air around her. Michel chuckles as he pulls on an earlobe. “I think you left out some things, ma chérie.” All heads swivel back to her as she sighs, but before Bronwyn can respond, my wife jumps up, her diamond tiara sparkling just as fiercely as her eyes. “Michel? As in your workmate and roommate, Michelle?” She exclaims, properly horrified. All eyes swing to Bronwyn, who sharply nods, but doesn’t say anything else as she takes another deep breath. There’s a bit of a kerfuffle where Joe is protesting as Tonya tries to lead him out of the room. Briony folds her arms, leaning toward her sister as she whispers, “Is this a Single White Female situation, because if it is—” “No, Bri,” Bronwyn squares her shoulders, and pushes back her chair. “I’m sorry for the interruption everyone. Please carry on as I see him off,” she apologizes to everyone. As she steps around her chair, her dress swirling about her, Michel mutters a French oath that has my brows shooting up. That’s not the reaction one would expect from a roommate. His eyes have widened to the size of saucers, and well…judging from the rest of his face, the man looks absolutely smitten with Bronwyn. She, however, wears the same determined chin that Briony gets when she can’t be swayed by anything. Briony puts out her hand to stop Bronwyn as she starts past her. “Will you at least take Alfie with you?” Bronwyn shakes her head as she continues on. “I don’t need him. Thanks, Bri.” Alfie grunts as she walks past him with a pat on his shoulder. Michel’s gaze sweeps over her in such an intimate way, that I’m not sure if I’m offended, or if I should be taking notes. “You look extraordinary, Winnie,” he reverently breathes. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t be here, Michel,” she grimaces as she marches past him. He reaches out, clasping her hand in his, but it must be gentle since she’s able to easily snatch it back. “Amour, can we not sit down and talk?” I blink. Ok… “Why?” Bronwyn grits out. “It’s not going to change anything. I left you the apartment. What more do you want from me?” It’s so quiet that Michel’s whispered, “You,” seems to echo around the room. Likely because everyone has abandoned dinner in favor of the drama playing out in front of us. Briony and I look at each other wide eyed, and she shrugs, just as clueless as the rest of us. Fascinating. Bronwyn freezes, swiping a shaky hand toward curls that are now pinned up in her fancy updo. Her hand drops to her side as she huffs, “No. That’s the end of it. Good bye, Michel.” “Just let me—” “NO!” Briony flinches from the force of Bronwyn’s voice, which is very rarely above a few decibels, even when she and Briony are wailing in laughter. I look down at Briony who’s now looking as tightly coiled as a spring. Ok, this has gone on long enough. I stand up and cross towards them. Michel isn’t much taller than me, but he is more muscular than I am. Judging from how fast he moved earlier, his muscles aren’t for show either. So, I’m purely approaching with the hope that his desire not to ruin my wedding day factors heavily into his decisions at the moment. “Look, Michel, Bronwyn. I understand you two have something to discuss. Perhaps we can settle you in a different room, and you can continue—” Bronwyn looks up at me so fiercely, I step back feeling as if Briony has just chastised me. “Ok, maybe not,” I nervously concede. Turning away from Bronwyn I purse my lips. “I’m sorry, Michel. You seem like a lovely man. Perhaps you two can discuss this another—” “I will not leave here without her,” he quietly says as he continues gazing at her. I run a hand through my gelled hair, and immediately grimace. “I understand that’s how you feel, however, as her new brother in-law, I have to say, I’m siding with her in this. So if you’ll kindly—” Michel eyes me for a moment, and the ferocity of emotion I see in his eyes cuts my words off abruptly. He clears his throat, and holds out his hand. “Thank you, brother in-law for protecting Winnie. She said she would be safe here, and I’m glad to see that was…mostly true.” Who is he to call me brother in-law? I narrow my eyes on him, but don’t extend my hand. “Bronwyn, will you kindly return to the table? I’ll show Michel out.” Bronwyn’s icy façade finally breaks as she nervously eyes the two of us, squaring up. Ok, I’m squared up. He looks as nonchalant as ever. In fact, he’s tucked his hand in his pocket. “No, Nick. It’s ok. I’ll make sure he finds his way out. Thanks.” Interesting. I take a step back, as she puts a hand on Michel’s arm and begins tugging him away. I don’t miss the way he smiles as he turns, and when he tosses a wave at me, I notice the ring on his finger. My brows shoot up, but as I take a breath, the doors fly open, and in comes Joe and Tonya. Joe’s face is no longer as red as his hair, but when he sees Bronwyn with her hand on Michel, he fiercely scowls. I leave them animatedly whispering at the other end of the hall as I return to the rest of our guests. Briony shoots me a questioning look, but I shake my head. There’s certainly more there than meets the eye, but it’s something we’ll have to hear from Bronwyn. “Sorry about that everyone. Would it be possible to restart the music?” I turn to Alfie who nods. “I’m sure everyone’s food is cold, but maybe we’ll be able to enjoy a less dramatic ending than—” “WHAT?” Joe bellows from the other end of the room. As all heads turn to look over at the little group huddled together, I heave a sigh and resume my chair beside my wife. “My guess is, there’s going to be a huge story to tell our ten children,” I lean in to whisper. Briony looks up at me with alarm, but her voice is dripping with amusement when she whispers, “For an old man, you sound really positive about that number, Mr. Bancroft.” I smile in return as I drape an arm over her shoulder and pull her in close, loving the feel of the soft skin at her neck. “I may not know the final number,” I concede, my lips against her ear, “but I do know practice makes perfect. And I really want to make sure we’re perfect..so prepare yourself for lots and lots of practice, Mrs. Bancroft. I plan to savor every moment…” Briony’s cheeks redden, but she grins up at me, her hand on my knee. “My, my, the student has become my—” “PAPA!” A young voice cries out. Briony and I turn in time to see a young blonde girl of about five or six years come barreling into the room. She’s dressed in a fur lined cream skirt and coat set, and as she flies into the room, a harried looking older woman comes huffing in behind her. The woman is quite red in the face, but seems to dissolve in relief as she sees Michel. “I’m sorry Mr. Rénard! She got away from me!” His daughter runs toward him, but as her watery eyes catch sight of Bronwyn, the brightest smile lights her face and she changes trajectory. “Mama! Papa didn’t say you’d be here!” The little girl cries in French as she launches herself at Bronwyn who catches her with a sob. “Oh! Doriane! My sweet girl, I’ve missed you so much!” Bronwyn exclaims, also in French, as the girl begins wailing. We can hear the tears in Bronwyn’s voice from here, and my brows shoot up as my suspicions are confirmed. Bronwyn and Michel are married, and he has a daughter. But, no one is more shocked than Briony. “Are you alright, my love?” I venture. However, Briony’s already on her feet and storming around the table towards the little group, her face a mask of indignation. “I’m gonna guess there was a lot more going on than the rent…” she calls, charging towards them, her dress billowing behind her. I smile. My life has certainly become a lot more interesting…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 22 /|\ Thank you for reading More Than Enough! Want to find out what’s been happening with Bronwyn and her mystery man? Read the first chapter of When You’re Enough!Subscribe for new posts every week!Want more stories? Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 21 /|\ Next Chapter → EpilogueThree weeks fly by as we work to get Day up and running. Day is a high concept lunch wagon that provides quality food at a fraction of the price. It caters to the average office worker or shoe salesman, who have champagne tastes but a burger budget. So, instead of Lobster Thermidor, Fried Lobster tail skewers with a side of lemon butter sauce and parmesan fries. On the other hand, Night, when it gets going, will be a dinner wagon where I want to bring fusion to typically upscale dishes. Like a Beef Wellington Taco with Mango Chutney. If I can get a permit to set it up in a decent neighborhood in the City, it could bring new flavors to clients who may only be familiar with more traditional cuisine. Nick has been a real lifesaver since we’ve come back. He’s so attentive and caring in our relationship, sometimes I feel like he knows I have to sneeze before I do. Not only does he let me park the truck in his garage, he helps me shop, get it stocked, and when Bronwyn had an accident with a bag of flour and had to go home early, he helped me finish prepping before opening day. When my oil guy cancels my contract last minute, Nick is able to make a few calls and get me a new guy in hours, who’s more than willing to travel to my location to retrieve the used oil. The big day arrives quite cloudy, but I’m in good spirits when Nick’s text comes in. ‘Breakfast is set, love.’ When I cross the back garden and step into his kitchen, he’s all smiles as he and Alfie shower me with streamers. The kitchen table is already set, and a banner on the wall above it reads, Congratulations, Briony! I pull my hands from my mouth as I smile. “Aww. Thanks! Y’all are too much!” “Come eat something before your big day,” Alfie winks before starting for the table. Nick drops a kiss on my forehead as he pulls streamers from my hair. “Wait until you see what I made.” I smile nervously as he pulls me to the table. “What you made?” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been working on the recipes you’ve shown me. Alfie says I’m getting better!” My gaze slides to Alfie who is definitely avoiding eye contact as he clears his throat. “What I said, Sir, is that there’s certainly been improvement.” I choke back a laugh as Nick scowls at Alfie. “Are you playing words now, Alf? Just wait and see.” When Nick slides two plates with a beautiful omelette along and a couple of burnt sausages in front of us, Alfie and I look at each other before looking back at Nick. He looks so hopeful that I can’t help giving him a brilliant smile. “You did so well! The sausage is absolutely cooked through this time.” Alfie snickers until I shoot him a look. Nick throws his hands up to stop us from eating. “Oh wait! One more thing!” He comes back with his plate and a stack of perfectly browned buttered toast. “That looks delicious, Nicky babe. I’m so proud of you!” Nick smiles as he looks pointedly at Alfie, who rolls his eyes.“Maybe at some point I won’t need Romero anymore.” I chuckle. “Putting Romero out of business, one dish at a time!” We’ve nearly finished breakfast when my phone rings. Nick gets up to grab it from where I left it on the island when I came in. “It’s Wyn,” he says, as he answers the phone. Ever since we hosted family dinner a few weeks ago, Nick has been more interested in what goes on in my family, and they in him. My parents were completely charmed by his down to earth personality, when they spoke on the phone. But, when he walked into the room and immediately wrapped me in a bear hug, despite my sister and I accidentally wearing a similar outfit, he won everyone over. Considering the fact Dad immediately drove up to my house to have an hour long conversation with Nick about he and I coexisting on the same property before marriage, I didn’t think they would get close so fast. So, I was shocked when Mom added Nick to the family chat and her social media page within minutes of their first meeting. However, my I was completely astounded when Dad invited him over for dinner in Brooklyn this past Sunday, for some sort of drinking test. Dad is a career military man, and prides himself on always being ready for action, while Nick is hardly in a social setting long enough to have more than one drink. Needless to say, neither of them are big drinkers, but they each held their own in their three rounds of Guinness from Dad’s bear shaped beer steins. When Dad remarked Nick held his own pretty well for an Englishman, Nick immediately stole Dad’s heart by informing him that Mum is actually Irish. Her family immigrated to England when she was a young girl. From that point on, Nick could do no wrong, and he was pleased as punch as I drove home. Who knew the man had so many drinking songs in him? So, when he answers my phone and easily begins speaking with Bronwyn, I think nothing of it, until I hear the note of alarm in his voice. “Ahh…well, can we deliver some soup or medicine to you? Ok, well stay hydrated, darling. Here’s Bri.” My eyebrows are somewhere on Mars by the time he hands me the phone. “Flu,” he whispers with an apologetic look. “Oh, no,” I mutter as I take the phone. “Wyn? Did I hear you’re sick?” She confirms the news sounding like death warmed over. She’s busy worrying about the fact she can’t be my sous chef, but I’m more worried about her. The last time she got the flu she collapsed in her office and had to be hospitalized. “Don’t worry about me, Bri. I’ll be fine. “Michelle is here, and surprisingly doing a fabulous job of keeping me hydrated and medicated.” I scrunch my nose. I’ve already heard a few tales about her new roommate, and I’m not a fan of the girl. Apparently, Michelle gave Wyn a tough time when she first moved in. Wyn is a sweetheart, so if this woman is already on her bad side, Michelle doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time. Yet, they signed a one year lease through a mutual friend, so, they’re stuck with each other until the end of the lease. Michelle’s French and it’s her first time living in the States, so Wyn says it’s a matter of culture shock, but I’m not buying it. I offered to let Wyn move in to my spare bedroom until the lease is up, but she didn’t want to lose her right to her fabulous Upper West side apartment by vacating the premises. “Ok, girly. Well, I hope you feel better,” I croon “Are you sure I can’t stop by tonight after I close up? It’s no trou—” “NO!” Bronwyn bellows in my ear before dissolving into a coughing fit. I look at the phone in disbelief. “Since when do you yell like that?” After a moment she comes back, sounding weaker than before. “No, really, Bri. Don’t come. I’m ok. I’ll be fine. We got this. Have a good opening night, and I’ll see you in two weeks for family dinner. Tell Nick I don’t plan to lose at Pictionary a second time!” I laugh, and after her reassurance that she’ll ‘totally be fine,’ we hang up. Bronwyn probably got sick after stressing about the shooting that took place at her job last week. She was at a meeting out of the office at the time, but she knows the people who were injured, and she has to work from home until the office is cleaned up. She and Michelle work at the same place, so I can imagine working from home might present some new challenges. That thought alone is enough to make anyone sick. That’s when the reality of the situation hits me square in the face. I hadn’t noticed that Nick and Alfie had already cleaned the kitchen, and Alfie had disappeared until I look up when Nick drops into the chair next to me. He automatically pulls me into a hug. “It’s going to be alright, love. We’ve got this.” I relax in his arm, and the tension melts away. “The problem is, while I’ve already trained Shelly and Derek on the menu, only Derek can make it today. It’s Shelly’s last day at her old job. It just so happened to work out that Wyn had taken the week off for a staycation, so she could help.” Nick nods as he rubs my back with his free hand. “Do you need someone who can help cook?” I sigh as I shake my head. “Even if I could find someone within the next hour, they wouldn’t know the recipes anyway. They would probably be more of a hindrance, if anything. No, if we can get someone to take orders, deal with payment and getting the food out to guests, we may just be able to swing it.” I frown as I try to think. I wonder if I could borrow Alfie for the next six hours… Nick straightens. “I’ve got it! I know just the person!” I bolt up. “Really? That’s great!” Nick jumps up looking at his watch. “Yeah. Text me the address, and I’ll have them meet you there before 11am.” Bending to kiss me, he smiles. “You’ll be alright, Bri.” Before I can ask a single question, he’s bolted out of the kitchen. I check the time. It’s already 9:50am. I hope his sub will be able to make it. I jump up. I’d better get out of here if I plan to make it! “What time is the sub gonna get here?” Derek impatiently asks, pushing his yellow bandana further up on his bald head. “When they get here,” I say firmly, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly, although I feel anything but calm. It’s already 11:15a, and there’s no sign of a newbie or a response from Nick or Alfie to my texts. Our permit is for a location next to a pretty park in the busy court district in the Bronx, off of the Grand Concourse. Despite the sign outside saying that we open at 11:30am, there’s already been about 3 or 4 taps on the closed serving window as people wonder if we’re open yet. The white truck with Day spray painted across the side, has a beautiful mural beneath it of the sun rising over a cityscape. Everything is in place, and we’ve only got to open, except…where’s the sub? Just when I pick up my phone to call Nick, there’s a knock on the back door. I walk over to the door apprehensively, not knowing what to expect. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for seeing Nick on the other side of the door, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. “What are you doing here?” I hiss as he hurries to step up into the truck. “I’m your sub,” he says, spinning around with a grin. I look him up and down from his brown work boots, to his black pants, and fitted black chef jacket as he continues. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I had to find a chef jacket in my size, then there was a car accident on the Major Deegan. Thankfully Alfie gave me a drop, or I’m afraid I’d still be trying to find parking.” “Where did you—what are you wear—no. No!” Nick frowns. “I knew you were going to say no, which is why I didn’t tell you. I’m here to help, love. I’m extra hands. And even though I can’t cook, I know how to work a register and take payments. What could go wrong?” I wave a hand at his face. “Are you forgetting something really important, right now? You’ve got one of the most recognizable faces on the planet!” Nick smiles, and as if on cue, Derek exclaims, “Hey, aren’t you Nicholas Bancroft?” I throw my hands in the air in resignation, shaking my head. Nick’s grin spreads as he reaches around me to shake Derek’s hand. “Nice to meet you. My fiancée doesn’t like to bring it up, so if you don’t mind keeping this under wraps, we’d appreciate it.” Derek shakes his hand with a broad grin. “Of course, man. Maybe I can get an autograph later?” “Why don’t y’all just take a picture. It lasts longer!” I growl. Nick wraps a gentle arm around me as he smiles at Derek. “Sorry..nerves. It’s a big day. Of course, I’ll sign an autograph. I’ll also take a picture after we close.” “Thanks, man!” “Certainly. Now if you wouldn’t mind excusing us a moment. It’s time for me to get my pep talk.” I run a hand down my face as Nick spins us away from Derek to face a stack a of red and white paper food baskets. “Now, really, love. It’s perfectly alright to be nervous, but you’ve got this. If you’re afraid I’m going to steal your thunder, I absolutely won’t. If you’re worried that I’ll freeze up, don’t. I’m an actor. I’ve actually done this before. Granted it was scripted, but, I still know what to do, and thanks to all that prep work, I know what’s on the menu.” I nervously bite my lip as I look up at him. “I’m not worried about any of those things, Nick. I just know how much you like your privacy and quiet. I know you didn’t wake up today expecting to take on the role of Nicholas Bancroft starring as Himself. We’re only open for four hours, but still…” Nick’s eyes warm as he gazes at me. “I should have known you were worrying about me. Don’t worry, I’m fine, because it’s for you. Now, will you please accept the free publicity, and allow me to worry about you for once? And, tell me what you need me to do in the next, oh six minutes before opening..” I glance at my watch. “Yikes! Ok, gather round team. Let’s have a quick meeting and do this!” Five hours later, we’ve cleaned up, secured everything, dumped the garbage, gotten the truck locked up and the last autograph hunter on their way. We can finally go home. My feet hurt, and my back is tight. I may have overzealously stocked more food than I anticipated since I wasn’t quite sure what numbers to expect. If I hadn’t, we would have sold out much sooner than we did. As it is, we barely squeaked past 3pm before having to close up shop. I can’t wait to go again! Of course, we could thank the free gift of publicity bestowed on us by the marvelous Mr. Bancroft. As hard as Nick tried to keep his cap lowered, even changing his voice so that he wouldn’t stand out, it only took five minutes for the first hawk eyed fan to spot him. He may have been both arsonist and fireman in this case, being the reason for such a large crowd, but he also patiently worked through it. He could have kept everyone entertained with songs from Broadway musicals, but instead he put his head down and worked to get the orders in and out quickly. There wasn’t a single complaint, which is pretty masterful in New York City at lunchtime. When someone thought to bring a news camera over to interview him, he graciously directed all the attention back to the lunch wagon, while managing to keep our relationship out of the public eye. It’s not that we’re ashamed of each other, but we had agreed that we wanted the food truck to stand on its own merit. As far as the world is concerned, he’s just showing a little love to his former chef. My hero! Once we have the truck parked in Nick’s garage, he holds out his hand. ‘Take a walk with me, Bri.” I pull off my cap and run a hand over my messy bun, but I nod as I take his hand. “Gladly, my lord.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles at me. We stroll past his white, five bedroom house, but, instead of heading towards my cottage, we turn past Alfie’s modern cottage and take the small loop trail through the canopy trees at the edge of the property. The lawn is still fairly green, but the cool mornings mean the leaves of the large oaks are already beginning to turn their various shades of red and gold. I’ve been a bundle of nerves all day, but now, as the whisper of the trees swaying in the autumn breeze grounds me, I’m filled with a sense of wonder. “I can’t believe I did it…” I say, huffing a laugh as I turn to him. “And, it’s all thanks to you.” “I had very little to do with it, Bri. You did this.” Nick nods as we crunch over fallen leaves to settle on a little wooden bench he installed a few years ago. “It was your dream. You didn’t give up, and after countless hours of work, here you are. I’m so proud of you, love.” “Thanks,” I grin, snuggling in beside him. “It still feels like a dream, and any moment I’m going to wake up to start your breakfast.” As he wraps an arm around me, I rest my head on his shoulder. The smell of fried lobster clings to us, but his spicy citrus lavender scent still comes through. I guess he’s officially edible. Nick chuckles. “Well, that’s actually my dream now. I don’t mind cooking, but I do miss your threats to make home fries when I misbehave.” “Well, that can always be arranged,” I smirk, chuckling in response. Basking in the small pool of sunlight filtering through the trees, I tilt my head to allow it to warm my face. “I can’t believe it’s October 1 already.” “I know,” he sighs. “It means we only have a month left of days like this.” I smile regretfully. “I’m going to miss you, Nick.” The corners of his mouth gently turn up as his cool hand cups my cheek. “You’re going to miss the publicity,” he teases, but it has no bite. When he turns his hat backwards, I try not to drool. Yet, as I stare into his warm, blue eyes, I find myself wanting him to know how much his presence means. Not just physically, but his showing up for me in a meaningful way. “You really came through for me today, Nick. Thank you, I appreciate it…I appreciate you. It really felt like it was me and you against the world.” Nick smiles bashfully. “That’s exactly how it should be, love. You and me against the world. I’m still learning the lesson, but hopefully, I get better at it as time goes on.” I wink at him. “After seeing you in action today, I think you’ll be just fine. I honestly don’t believe there’s anything you can’t do.” He snorts as he looks away, absentmindedly rubbing my shoulder. “I don’t know about that.” I tilt my head as I look up at him, and give him a nudge. “I’m serious, Nick. You can do anything. You managed to perfect an omelette in a month!’ He smirks. “Maybe. You know. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I got the call from Peter Smithson. He and Gil Shapiro said the meeting in November is a formality, but they really want me for the part of Macbeth. They would start rehearsals at the end of April with a limited summer run from mid-June to mid-August. But, I don’t have to let them know anything until I meet with them.” When he doesn’t say anything else, I put a hand on his knee. “It sounds like an amazing opportunity if that’s what you want.” Nick nods, but remains quiet for a moment. “Hm. It’s what I’ve always wanted, but…if it’s the wrong decision…dare I do it? It’s what I burn to do, but it could lead to roles drying up in Hollywood and beyond. Some actors never bounce back from going Broadway.” I nod my head. “That’s true…but, so what if that happens?” Nick bemused smile speaks volumes. “What?” “Yeah. If Hollywood executives decide to ignore your talent and be idiots, doesn’t that still leave TV land, British serials, and theater? What are you worried about? Money? Don’t. Because based on today, I may not be able to afford the upkeep of your house, you’ll for sure need to sell it, but I can pay the bills at the cottage. You’ll stay with me, and I’ll take care of you.” Nick’s brows slam down as he chuckles in befuddlement. “What on Earth are you saying right now?” I swing my gaze to his intently. “I’m saying live your dream. It’s what you told me to do when my funding fell through on the restaurant my second year out of Le Cordon Bleu. You said I can work for you, but I can’t give up on my dreams, because that would be like giving up on myself.” I nudge him in the side as his brows rise in remembrance. “Well, Nick, if it’s my turn to support you, then, I’m ready, because I believe in you. You might need to give up the Land Rover though, because I can’t pay for gasoline and parking in the theater district.” I do some quick calculations. “I can probably afford a monthly metro card and lunch. At least until the second truck gets off the ground. But, that’s about it.” Silence descends as Nick quietly considers me. If I’m honest, he looks positively feral. Like he’ll swallow me whole right here if I say another word. Amazement shines out of his eyes when he softly chuckles, “You really haven’t googled me…we aren’t hurting for money by any means, my love. But, what you’re saying is..you’ll love me whether I’m in films or a brilliant actor on Broadway?” I sputter. “Well, you don’t have to..shoot right for the moon here. I’d love you even if it were off Broadway…off-off Broadway too, if I’m being perfectly honest. You really do give amazing foot rubs, and—” I’m rendered mute as Nick laughingly removes his glasses, pulling me into a kiss so fast I never had a chance. It takes the usual two seconds for the swarm of butterflies to turn into molten lava as Nick sweeps in and kisses me to oblivion. I don’t think there’s anything he left unknown in that kiss, and I return as good as I got. When he gently pulls back, his eyes still closed, both of our chests struggling for a breath, it’s only then I realize I’m practically floating on air. I don’t know when I went from sitting on the bench to being pulled half onto his lap as I’m crushed against his chest, but I melt all over again. Nick opens his eyes, and the adoration I see there leaves me completely shaken. He kisses my nose as he dazedly whispers, “When Evie begged me for a whole six months to hire you as my private chef, my mistake was believing the only problem with the arrangement would be if you fell in love with me. I never imagined it would be the other way around.” “And now?” I ask, resting my head against his shoulder. A gentle smile curves his mouth. “You’re magnetic, my life. I didn’t think I could ever be enough for you, but I couldn’t stay away, and believe me, I tried.” “There’s no question in my mind that you’re everything I want and need, Nick.” I smile, running a finger over his full lower lip. “Briony,” Nick groans. The reverence he says my name with, renders me speechless. A good thing since Nick isn’t finished. Dropping his forehead to mine, he whispers, “Why must you undo me at every level? Will you leave me nothing of myself?” I blink as, book boyfriend, who? runs through my mind. “Hm?” He asks again, with a light brush of his lips against mine. “Umm—” I clear my throat and try again. “Sir, you’ll have to leave a message. Briony has died and is unavailable for questions at this time.” He chuckles as he brushes another feather soft kiss against my lips, before sighing and sitting me on the bench beside him. Yes, sitting is good, because I’m pretty sure my legs are out of order. As he watches a nest of baby birds that have begun singing in a nearby tree, Nick smiles. “It’s alright, love. I already know the answer, anyway.” I nod from my perch on cloud 9. “Good, because the feeling is completely mutual.” I wait a beat before adding, “You still owe me a food truck, though.” He raises a brow. “I believe I promised to invest in your food venture. And I have.” I laugh as I slap him on his stomach. “If you think a shift is going to cover it, you’re very much mistaken!” He chuckles. “No, love. I listen much better than that. If your idea is to take over the food truck world, then that’s what I’ll help you to do. So, listen. I have a location in Hyde Park, a fantastic space really, that was formerly a restaurant. I’ve already bought a truck, but there’s space for six more trucks inside.” My brows rise, but before I can say anything, he continues. “My idea is to give you a permanent location, and you can try six different types of cuisine with the other trucks. Or, we can lease the other trucks to different startups every year. Either way, it would be up to you, darling. I was finalizing the gift for you, but Evie told me I’d better get here lest I lose you. Being perfectly unwilling to let that happen…here I am.” I blink in shock as he hangs his head sheepishly. “I hope I didn’t overstep, love. If it would be too much to oversee, we can hire a manager to deal with all of it. Just—” My mouth crashes into his. How was I ever unsure of how much I love this man who cares for me so completely? As he returns my kiss, it feels like he’s asking me the very same question. Our journey may have been a roundabout one, but I can honestly say it was worth every step. Sure it had its ups and downs, moments of laughter, moments of tears, but their ours, and that’s good enough for me. In fact—it’s more than enough. T H E 💕 E N D Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion in the Epilogue!← Previous Chapter: Chapter 21 /|\ Next Chapter → EpilogueSubscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 20 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 22If I don’t count the seven hours I spent riding the fence over the pros and cons of staying at Nick’s cottage, the flight home was uneventful. Before I left for Heathrow Airport yesterday afternoon, I was perfectly calm. I wasn’t angry, there wasn’t any angst involved in my decision to remove myself from his presence. Just a need for quiet, to allow myself to think clearly. Could I have left in a less dramatic way? Yes. I could have told Nick I was leaving. Yet, I somehow knew he’d manage to keep me there. I’m not a weak woman, either. The man just has the power of persuasion always at the ready. I don’t stand a chance if I don’t have things figured out before discussing it. No, I deserved to have space to think without anyone else’s input. For once, I was going to get just that. Yet, nearly as soon as I left the penthouse and sat down in the black taxi, I began to have serious doubts. I love Nick, and I know he loves me. So, what am I trying to prove? Does it really matter something seems not quite right? Don’t get me wrong, Nick has been warm and respectful, and just wonderful in general since the night he gave me the necklace. Yet… It’s as if Nick thinks I’m fragile, so he’s afraid to touch me. I mean that both figuratively and literally. It feels like Nick is holding back, and that doesn’t begin to cover how he’s only held my hand or given me hugs. Not one kiss! I know it’s only been a short time since we’ve been seeing each other romantically. But, honestly…not even a peck on the lips? We’re not exactly strangers! I just keep wondering…what’s he waiting for? Because if he thinks I’m going to be in one of those medieval marriages that were strictly platonic, he’d better have another think coming. Still, there would be times that he would look at me with so much tenderness and heat, that I felt as if I were imagining things. So, I thought, maybe he’s just nervous. Maybe he didn’t feel it was the right time. Maybe he needed more from me. As the days slipped by, I eventually ran out of excuses. I don’t doubt his love, but I began to doubt he knew the difference between a friend and a lover. The discussion of the night before just seemed to blow up the issue, leaving me with more questions. What does he want to marry me for? To have someone cook his meals? To discuss plays and run lines with him? To accompany him on his long stretches out of the country? Ok, I know that isn’t fair to him. He really does listen to me, and he’s always seemed to care more about what I think than any other man I’ve known. There’s just…something missing. Besides the kisses that is. Something that I can’t put my finger on. The thought strikes me about the fifth hour of the flight. What’s missing is the passion, and I don’t mean the physical variety. There’s no sharing ice cream, or having chats every night until we fall asleep. There’s no sharing giggles, except for the occasional banter, and certainly no dreaming of the future. We may watch War and Peace or Oliver Twist and discuss every plot point, but at some point, we stopped sharing the pieces of ourselves that mattered the most. I don’t know what happened, but I don’t like it. Pointing it out, meant being brushed off with a remark about how busy his schedule is during post production. To be fair to him, he’s right, but if I’m going to be penciled in under ‘get milk,’ if I’m going to be treated as a convenience…it’s just not going to work. Yesterday wasn’t the only straw, but it was certainly the last. I’ve been battling all summer to get this food truck off the ground. Yet, it’s been one thing after another. In the middle of yet another soulless conversation, I realized he has no idea the stress I’m under. Nor did he appear to care. Sure, I could have brought it up. He would have politely listened as he always did, but that would have been the end. We would have gone on to something else. The one thing that Nick and I seemed to have before, even if it was just a glimmer, was an ability to talk to each other honestly. Yet, now, even that’s missing, and the only thing I can figure, is that neither of us know how to date. It’s our first time doing this, therefore, there are going to be growing pains. So, what do we do about that? By the time I reach my cottage around midnight, shower and crawl into bed, both body and brain are exhausted mush. My last thought before closing my eyes, is to wonder what Nick had for dinner. After emailing back and forth with a promising new fish vendor, I look up at the clock on my bedroom wall. 9:04am. As good a time as any to drag myself out of bed. Pulling on a cream, mustard and French blue maxi skirt with a matching blue cropped tank, I pad barefoot to the front door. It’s much warmer here than it is in Europe, but as I look at the tall trees, still full of vibrant green color, I know it won’t be long before autumn sweeps in with its hint of frost colored in orange, red and gold. Collecting all of the groceries I had delivered, I shuffle everything back to the kitchen. It’s been so long since I’ve cooked something purely for myself, so I’m going straight to comfort food. There’s still two days before Nick gets home, and I plan to be happily fed when he returns, if nothing else. After putting the rest of the groceries away, I set about making Beef Bourguignon and mashed potatoes. I make extra in case Annie and Ben want to join me for lunch. I know there isn’t much for Annie to clean with Nick being gone, so she may have already gone home. But, if Ben isn’t mowing lawns, then he’s pruning bushes, or trees, or fixing something or other. He can at least take some home with him. While I wait for the stew to finish cooking, I make a fruit tart for dessert. I’ve just poured a glass of mint green tea lemonade a couple of hours later when my door bell rings. I haven’t even told my family that I’m home early, so I wonder who it could be. I start towards the door, but pull myself up short when I see Nick’s grizzled profile through the glass. What’s he doing here? Self consciously touching a hand to my curls, frizzy with humidity, my heart beats faster as I open the door and freeze. Nick’s eyes are molten blue pools as they rake me from head to toe and back again. He slowly extends a bouquet of pink and white flowers toward me. “My life, I’ve missed you..may I come in?” Slowly nodding in shock, I accept the flowers and step aside for him. “Thank you for the flowers.” His eyes never leave me as he steps inside and closes the door. He’s buzzing with a quiet energy that feels different from the usual easiness that exists between us. Dipping my head to smell the pretty buds, I decide he must have had a lot of coffee on his trip over. “They’re Asters,” he unexpectedly says. I look up at him uncertainly, and wonder when he crept closer. “It smells amazing in here. Is it alright if I stay for lunch?” I tilt my head as I consider him. His pressed, white button up and khaki shorts aren’t travel worn, so he must have changed at home before walking over. “You’re always welcome at my table, Nick.” I turn and hustle back to the kitchen to get the flowers in a vase. Sitting the crystal vase on the wood block island, I turn back for the scissors, but I’m surprised when I see Nick already has them. “Allow me, love.” As he takes the flowers and begins cutting the stems, neatly arranging them in the vase, I shake my head in surprise. Who knew a man could look like that, and smell like him, while arranging flowers? I need to get a grip. “What are you doing here, Nick?” His eyes flick to mine, before flicking back to the flowers. “At the moment? Arranging a bouquet of flowers. Presently? Desperately hoping that I haven’t lost the woman whom I hope is still my fiancée.” For the first time in a month, his gaze is unguarded, and the mix of fear, affection, and longing take me by surprise. He drops his gaze to continue arranging his flowers, but I don’t miss the slight tremor in his hands. Pursing my lips as I ponder how to say what I thought I had days to come up with, I walk to the cupboards and pull out a couple of pasta bowls to set the table. By the time I’ve got the stew and mashed potatoes in serving bowls and on the table, Nick has arranged the flowers in the middle of the dining table, and sat down to join me. “Wine?” I ask. “What do you have?” “I can do a pinot noir or a cab sav.” Nick purses his lips. “Surprise me.” After retrieving a bottle and uncorking it, Nick pours for us, and sits down to eat. I’m surprised when he loads up on mashed potatoes, but I don’t say a word. I’m no longer his chef. “The pinot pairs well with the beef,” he hums after a sip. When I nod in response, he continues. “I love the stew over the mashed potatoes. It’s like they’re made for one another,” he shoots me a meaningful look. I smile wanly. “Perhaps.” We eat in silence, and I must admit, I don’t savor much of the meal, since I’m more concerned about what he’s going to say. The same can’t be said for Nick however, who seems to be having a spiritual experience with every bite and sip. I would be jealous, but I know how hard he works to eat healthy. This is a real cheat meal for him, and if I’m being honest, I’m just happy to see him so rapturous. “I’m glad to see you enjoying something, Nick.” Ooh..that had more of an edge than I intended. He opens his eyes and pins me with a lazy smile. “I learned from the best, my life.” I grimace at the nickname, unsure what to say to that. “What does it mean when you keep saying, ‘my life’?” Nick smiles as he sips his wine, never breaking eye contact. “It surprised me that its owner so quickly forgot the meaning of their own pet name.” I raise a brow. “Are you trying to say I made up that nickname?” Nick gives a short nod as he helps himself to a third serving of stew and potatoes. “Among other things, yes.” I scowl in frustration. “When did I do such a thing, and why would I do it?” Nick smirks. “It was on the night you proposed. I suppose it was your proposal gift to me.” I chuckle in disbelief as I slap a hand to my chest. “Me? I proposed to you? When was this?” He chuckles softly, his eyes alight with amusement. “I don’t know if I should be offended that you don’t remember the most important night of our lives thus far, but yes, you did. It was the night we spent together in Nottinghamshire.” My face immediately flushes under Nick’s watchful eye. I clear my throat, and mutter “Why couldn’t you say the night you got sick?” Nick playfully shrugs his broad shoulders. “You remember it how you want, and I’ll remember it the way it was.” I scowl as I rub an eye. “How can you remember anything? You were out of it if I recall.” Nick swallows his last bite. “Do you think I would forget something like that? I memorize lines for a living. I’ll never forget the most important words ever spoken to me. It’s why we carry them with us, wherever we go.” My brows rise. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He nods towards me as his gaze lowers. “It means you wear these words over your heart, just as I do mine.” My eyes involuntarily drop to the chain that Nick wears beneath his shirt. It had appeared not too long after I received my own chain, but I hesitated to ask the meaning in it. Overpowered by a burning curiosity, I stand to lean over the table and lift his chain from beneath his shirt. Nick gazes at me earnestly, but doesn’t say anything. His simple gold chain has a similar set of dashes and dots, but his dashes are gold, and his dots appear to be made of onyx beads. I’m startled when his large hand covers mine. I look into his pale blue eyes, and the fire burning there leaves me breathless. “Briony.” That’s it. He just exhales my name, and I melt, crumpling back into my chair as he releases my hand. His intent gaze pins me in place, and I find myself barely breathing as he begins to speak. “After you proposed to me, you asked what I would like to call you. I said my love and my wife. You said that makes you ‘my life’. I couldn’t agree more. Which is why those are the words that sit above your heart.” I swallow around a lump in my throat. This is a lot heavier than I expected. “Ah. I thought Be Mine sounded a bit too Hallmark. I’m glad you went with something more original.” His lips twist in a wry smile. “I thought you’d approve, love.” Gesturing toward the chain around his neck, I nod. “So, what does yours say?” Nick shakes his head. “Some things should be sacred.” That draws a smile out of me. “It’ll remain sacred in my mind. So, what does it say?” Nick smirks. “Alright, my love. Just don’t be too hard on yourself. It may not be your finest work, but it will be one of your most enduring.” My eyes snap to his, as I look at it harder. “It’s not the same as mine. There are more dashes and dots on yours.” He nods with a smirk. “I believe you combined the words, husband and lover for my pet name.” I look at him askance. “Well that doesn’t make any sense. What would that be? My lusband?” He laughs as he leans on the table, folding his hands beneath his chin. “I believe you made me your ‘hover..’” “Whaaat?” I shake my head in disbelief as Nick laughs. “It’s horrible!” “I know, love, but what can I do? It’s what you came up with.” I laugh at the incongruity of it. “So, you put My Hover on the chain?” Nick winks at me. “It’s a sacred inside joke. Don’t make me regret telling you.” “Or else what? You’re going to buzz around my head like a mosquito?” I snort. “Among other things…” he says softly. Just like that the tension is back. I finish my last sip of wine and sit the glass down. “So…did you accept my proposal?” Nick relaxes back in his chair, his arm draped across the back. “What do you think we’re doing here, my life?” I close my eyes and take a breath. “I know what I’m doing here, but what are you doing here? There are still two days left in your post-production schedule. You’re supposed to be in London until Saturday.” He waves a hand dismissively. “That’s been handled. But…” Leaning forward earnestly, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “More important is that I apologize. I’m sorry Briony, that I haven’t been pouring my all into our relationship. I don’t want to love you like an afterthought, rather I want to love you like you’re the main point. You deserve nothing less. I’m hoping that you can forgive me, and give me another chance.” I’m pretty sure my eyebrows have lifted clean off my face, but I nod in response. Did he say, love? “Ah..Ok.” Nick shakes his head slightly, his confusion reflected in his eyes. “Wait, what do you mean, ok? You’re giving me another chance? Just like that?” I nod again with a wrinkle in my brow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Nick sets his glasses on the table to scrub his hands down his face. “So, wait…why did you fly home early if you weren’t upset? I thought I’d have to do serious groveling to get your forgiveness.” I raise a brow. “I think you’ve been reading too many scripts. Forgiveness isn’t something that can be earned on some sort of point system. I was upset enough to remove myself, so that I’d have time to think. I’ve done that. You acknowledged you made a mistake, and indicated you want to make changes. I accept that.” He silently appraises me, his lips pursed as if he’s solving an impossible problem. “I don’t need the groveling,” I shrug. “It’s that simple. And, I don’t think begging on hands and knees for forgiveness will do a thing to make our relationship stronger…unless you have some compulsive need for it. In that case, I won’t stop you, but there’s a $50 maximum on any grand gestures that follow.” Nick smiles as some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Who puts a cap on grand gestures?” I fold my arms. “There are better ways to spend money than on releasing a thousand white doves for me. A trip to Bora Bora as an expression of love, without it being attached to a memory of how someone messed up, would be much nicer and involve a lot less bird poop.” I sigh with a shake of my head. “Can we just agree that our memories of beautiful experiences can be kept free of the guilt that would forever be associated with a grand gesture? Please?” Nick shakes his head with a smile. “You have a point, my love. That’s fair. We can save Bora Bora for our honeymoon.” I raise a brow. “I hear private yacht rentals are a fantastic way to spend a honeymoon. We can hop around the South Pacific visiting different islands, dressed in nothing but our bathing suits for the whole three weeks. I’ll just need a couple of years to pay for it.” Nick laughs. “Maybe it’ll take that long for me to propose. So, we’re even.” I stand to clear the plates. “I thought we were engaged already.” Nick helps me bring dishes into the kitchen, and begins rinsing dishes to sit in the dishwasher. “Of course, we are. Yet, I admit to being a bit old fashioned in that I’d like to ask you, and hear you willingly agree to be mine.” I stop putting food in containers to throw my hands on my hips in mock outrage. “Well, what do you call this necklace, if it isn’t an engagement necklace? Didn’t you ask me then?” Nick flicks water at me. “Are you telling me you’re that easy to bring into my life? That I’ve spent all of this time overthinking it?” “Uh-uh!” I quickly run a hand under water and flick him as he tries to dodge. “The word isn’t easy, it’s willing.” Fast as lightning, he reaches out and catches me by the arm as he fills up a glass with water in the other. I squeal in laughter as I try to get away. “You’d better not!” “What?” He asks feigning innocence. “I thought you were willing?” “To marry you!” I squeal as he drips some of the water on me as I try to get free. “Not to be splashed!” He smirks as he gazes at me calculatingly. “I still haven’t asked, but do hold onto that thought, love. It won’t be long now.” With that he begins drinking the glass of water. As his arm raises, I see my opportunity, and I take it. But, as soon as I begin tickling him, he immediately sprays water in my face in a big gush. We both freeze staring at each other, before collapsing in a fit of laughter. After we get me and the kitchen cleaned up, we settle on the swing on the back porch with our slices of fruit tart and iced tea. I love it back here year round, but especially in summer. The tall evergreen trees that serve as a privacy barrier, provide ample shade, but my smaller yard space is still edged with honeysuckle bushes that provide extra privacy. The sweet smelling reddish buds, always attract hummingbirds at this time of year, and we lazily watch them float back and forth in the waning summer heat. “So, tell me, love. What other woes brought you across the pond?” Nick asks solemnly. I sigh as I lean back and set the swing in motion. “It’s a headache, even for me. Are you sure you want to know, Nick?” His hand brushes over my curls as he responds. “Tell me everything.” So I do. I start from the beginning with every single thing that’s happened until now. Nick is perfectly attentive, but also engaging, asking questions, and being a sounding board for some of the solutions I’ve come up with. Just like that, my Nick is back, and I’m amazed at the turn around within the last 24 hours. After we’re done brainstorming, Nick surprises me by asking, “Well, what can I do to help?” My head swings in his direction, and he unflinchingly meets my dubious gaze. “What can you do? You’re leaving in less than two months.” “Yes, but you launch in three weeks. You said that you’re having trouble finding a daily storage place. Why don’t you park it in the garage here? I can even help you get the truck organized.” My brows shoot up as I contemplate his offer. Sure, he has a five car garage that could double as fire station. It doesn’t mean I should use it. “Why do you insist on making me take advantage of you? Do me a favor. Never gamble, ok? You’d just give away money.” Nick’s laughter resonates in the trees, as his tousled blonde waves bounce in the breeze. “Unless I’m playing with you, I’d like to think I have more sense than that. Besides, I think it makes the case for you to continue living here.” “What? Why wouldn’t I continue to live here?” Nick looks at me askance. “So you won’t be moving out?” “Not at the moment, no.” I shake my head. “But, we should discuss rent.” Nick’s look of surprise is priceless. “The cottage belongs to you, so I don’t know what rent you think I’m supposed to accept.” Shaking my head, I rest my head against the arm he’s stretched behind me. “There are always taxes. At least let me pay for that.” “Why would I? The estate is mine, the cottage is yours. Why on earth would I calculate taxes on something I pay as a whole? No, darling. Let’s not and say we did.” I raise a brow. “I don’t recall having that conversation, but you have to accept something for it. I can’t just live here for free.” The determined set of Nick’s jaw says otherwise. “Sure you can. You’ve already been doing it for years. At any rate, you’re my fiancée, and I say it’s perfectly alright.” “I believe,” I growl sitting up, “that in fact, you’re my fiancé, since, allegedly, I’m the only one who’s done any asking around here.” Nick smirks. “A fact that will be remedied as soon as possible. What point are you trying to make, my life?” As he gazes at me lovingly, I rest the cool glass against my cheeks. “Well…” I hedge, “What if we break up? How could I continue to live here without some sort of agreement?” Nick’s face contorts as a thousand emotions cross his face. He settles on a scowl as he replies. “That’s a bridge that we’ll never come to, because all bridges off this island have been blown up. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out, but I can guarantee, there is no option that includes me accepting money for your cottage. Besides. What precedent would you be setting for our next tenant, once we’re married?” I stare back at him in confusion. “What next tenant? And why is there so much talk of being married, when we haven’t been officially engaged yet?” He smiles sheepishly. “I may be a bit over excited, dearest. What would you like to do with the cottage, once we’re married?” I look up at him, dumbfounded. There he goes again! “I don’t know…guest house? Home office? What am I saying?” I drop my head in my hands, and as Nick begins to rub my back, I groan. “This feels so surreal. Is this really happening? Are we really talking about being married? We haven’t even kissed, and we’re discussing what we’ll do with the cottage. Don’t get me wrong, I love that we’re talking about these things, I just…what’s wrong?” Nick’s hand has stilled on my back, and when I peer over my shoulder I see he’s frowning as he stares at a point in the distance. “Ah…nothing. You just mentioned…kissing, and I was wondering what that…has to do with anything.” I don’t think my eyebrows have climbed to my hairline faster than they do at that statement. I lean away from him as I sit my glass on the side table. “Wait just a minute. What do you mean, you’re wondering what kissing has to do with anything? You don’t believe in some medieval idea of courtly marriage do you? Because let me tell you, if that’s what you think this will be, we are signing up for therapy like, yesterday.” Nick starts coughing as he sputters. “What? No! I don’t…where would you get such an idea?” When he finally looks at me, the seriousness is back, the heat of it working to steal my breath away. Oh, sure, it’s tinged with humor and curiosity, but that is not the main dish it’s serving tonight. I pick up my glass to return the coolness against my reddening cheeks. “Um. Well, if I’m being honest…you just haven’t seemed very interested in figuring out that part of our relationship…” I’m fidgeting with the folds of my skirt, and I’m forced to stop when Nick’s hand covers mine. I risk another glance at him, and find him gazing at me intently, his glasses pushed to the top of his head. “I respect you, Bri. I just want you to know that.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to gnaw on it. How do I get him to see that I need this respect to translate into actual affection at some point. “Hm. Yes. I know. You respect me, I respect me. I respect you, too. But…just let me know what I’m dealing with here.” Nick never takes his eyes off of me as he pushes my curls over a shoulder, and allows his hand to rest at my throat. My heart skips a beat as he gently presses on my rapidly beating pulse. “Let me assure you, my life. I have no interest in courtly love. We can debate the pros and cons of it another time, but for now, suffice it to say, it won’t be an idea introduced in our home. Is that clear enough for you?” My eyes widen as I nod, trying to control my breathing and wildly beating heart. It doesn’t help that I’m completely engulfed in Nick’s spicy lemon lavender scent. He nods with a little smile. “Good. Now, tell me what you want me to do to allay your fears.” I swallow hard, causing him to grin. “Um, I think…just kn-knowing where we stand is good for now.” Liar! We want kisses and lots of them! I clear my throat as I glance away, trying to not be distracted with the way his thumb is moving against my throat. His smile turns dangerous as he draws me closer. “I’m so glad that you’re satisfied with that explanation, love.” He presses a kiss to my jaw beneath my ear and raggedly whispers, “I don’t want you to think for a moment that my being respectful has to do with a lack of attraction, or anything else on your part.” He pulls back, his eyes searching mine as he softly says, “I want you, Briony. All of you. I can surely wait a few months to make sure that it happens before God and everyone else.” Um. What? “A few months?” I squeak. “Mmhm,” he nods, his gaze turning molten when his eyes drop to my mouth. “But, with your permission—” I have nowhere to go as his head dips towards mine, his hand slipping to the back of my neck as our lips meet. The kiss is gentle at first. A soft flutter of his lips against mine, as I grip his shirt to steady myself. Then, he deepens the kiss, I kiss him in return, and it becomes more urgent. When I melt against him, I can sense his surprise when he abruptly draws back to look at me. “Are you sure this is your f-first kiss?” He stutters hoarsely. I frown at him in a daze as I try to catch my breath. “Yes,” I whisper. Nick looks at me in amazement as he once again runs his thumb over my throat. Dropping a peck on my lips, he pulls me into his arms. He’s gripping me so tightly, I’m beginning to think I messed it up. “What’s wrong, Nick? Did I do something wrong?” He relaxes his hold minutely as his gravelly chuckle sends a jolt through me. “Not at all. It’s only…I think that I may have misapprehended something before, and this was actually my first kiss, too. To be honest..I’m a bit shaken by it.” I pull back in confusion as I look up at him. His gaze is hot on me, as he manages to look both thunderstruck and a bit bewildered. “But, you’ve kissed so many women over the years. You just kissed Amelia Raglan less than a month ago. Multiple times if I recall correctly,” I add, trying not to sound too bitter about it. Nick chuckles again. “I’m just as surprised as you, love. I didn’t know that being in love with the person makes so much of a difference.” I look up at him as a smile starts to spread across my face. “So, you love me, which is why our kiss rocked your world.” He laughs as he pulls me back into his arms, resting his head on mine. “There aren’t enough words to tell you how much I love you. But, yes, I love you, Briony. With my whole heart.” The rush of tears to my eyes is immediate. Turning my face into his neck, I place a gentle kiss there causing him to still. And, I don’t know..it might be my new favorite thing. Ok, I lied. It’s totally my new favorite thing. “I love you, too, Nick.” I smile. “Now, I completely respect your decision not to go any further until we’re married. But can we at least replace the number of kisses that Amelia received?” He drops a kiss on my temple. “Bri baby, that one kiss has wiped out every single kiss I’ve ever had. But, I’ll happily oblige your request…out of respect you understand.” I chuckle before I’m melting into his kiss yet again. Respect indeed!← Previous Chapter: Chapter 20 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 22Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 19 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 21The usual sound of pans and pots and the smell of cooked food are all absent when I step into my London penthouse. The unusual quiet that greets me sends a chill down my spine. It’s been three weeks since we left Switzerland and came back here for post-production work. Being in a studio and doing interviews from dawn to dusk, isn’t the glamorous part of the job, but it is necessary. Needless to say, coming back to Briony’s waiting arms is usually the best part of my day. Which is why her absence is so noticeable. “Briony?” I call, knocking on her door as I look towards the dark kitchen. “She’s gone,” a voice calls from the sitting room. “Evie?” I walk towards the sitting room to find my sister on the sofa with a murderous gleam in her eye. With her arms folded and her legs crossed at the knee, I don’t feel as though I’m in imminent danger of losing teeth, but I’m positive I’m in for the tongue lashing of my life. I stop short, a sense of dread rising in my chest. Wait… “What do you mean she’s gone? Where has she gone?” Evie shakes her head as she sharply exhales. “I mean just what I said, Nicholas. Evie is gone, no thanks to you. Back to New York.” I feel the blood drain from my face as I slowly shake my head. “That doesn’t make any—why would she do such a thing? We’ll be back in three days—” I break off to pull out my mobile. “Forget it. I have no idea why I’m asking you when I can just call her and sort this all out.” Yet, the longer the phone rings, the more a rising sense of dread gnaws at my stomach. The sound of Briony’s voicemail gives me a start. Dialing again, I’m again sent to voicemail. I’ve never been sent to voicemail until now. Since Briony began working for me, she’s always answered my calls. I slowly look up at Evie who’s sitting completely upright, tight lipped with anger. Crossing to her, I sit on the sofa, but not close enough to be in striking range. “What happened?” I desperately croak. Evie ponders me curiously. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question? After getting an ominous text message which said exactly what I told you, I drove over here when Briony didn’t respond to texts or phone calls. What did you do?” Evie’s question doesn’t surprise me, but the accusatory tone does give me a moment of hesitation. I stare into my sister’s blue eyes pondering the same question. What did I do? “I have no idea, Evie. She seemed fine this morning after breakfast. We—” Alfie comes through the front door and I leap up to question him. “Did you know Briony left?” The answer is clear in Alfie’s shocked brown eyes. “What do you mean, she left?” I groan as I throw my head back in frustration. “Just what I said, Alf. She isn’t accepting anyone’s calls or texts at the moment. Evie drove over, but she evidently missed Briony, who’s heading back to New York apparently.” Alfie scowls. “And, why would she be doing something like that, Sir?” Evie appears at my elbow, sharply poking me in the shoulder to punctuate each word. “What. Did. You. Do?” I stare back at her as new horror dawns. “We had a small disagreement last night, but surely it couldn’t be over that…” Alfie and Evie cross their arms simultaneously. As they scowl at me, I look back and forth between them. “Spill it, Nicholas.” I flinch at hearing Evie say my full name. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard her use it, and two of those occasions occurred today. Rubbing the back of my neck I expel a breath. “It’s really nothing as dramatic as all of that. I don’t know what’s gotten into Briony suddenly. Last night, we were sitting on the balcony after dinner as usual, and…” The breeze had gently fluttered, blowing Briony’s curls around her head. From seemingly far away, the sounds of London traffic could be faintly heard drifting over the park. I unbuttoned the second button on my white knit polo, and sat back in my chair. I should have told her how beautiful she looked in her white and blue striped maxi dress as she lounged on a chaise. Instead I remarked how unseasonably warm it was in London for the time of year. Briony smiled and said, “If London wants to give me a warm sendoff, I’ll take it. It’s going to be nonstop work when I get back, so I’m going to enjoy these last few days.” I shrugged as I savored the tart sweetness of the purple butterfly pea flower lemonade Briony made. “Why don’t you take a couple of weeks off before starting up the truck. Or better yet, why not wait to launch it when we get back from New Zealand? I’ll have time to help you then, too.” Briony’s head slowly turned, like something out of a horror movie, but still, I didn’t take the hint. I laughed. “What? Don’t look at me that way! I only mean that you should get rest while you can. You don’t need to run yourself into the ground.” Briony blinked at me, a look of perfect befuddlement marring her face. “Um. Nick. Wow, I’m made of questions. Where to start?” She put a hand to her mouth as she frowned. “You know I’ve been planning to start this truck for a long time. It means a lot to me.” I took in her somber expression and nodded. “Of course, I know that, love. You’ve hardly spoken of anything else this past year.” Briony nodded as she narrowed her eyes on me. “So, what do you mean wait until after New Zealand to launch it?” I sat my cup down as I leaned over to push her curls over her shoulder. I frowned when she scooted away from me to sit up, but I responded anyway. “I just meant it’s only two months until we leave. If the time crunch is too much, then we can always do it when we get back in February.” She seemed to be angry, but that couldn’t be right. I slapped my forehead as she sat up. “Oh! That’s right, I forgot. Evie’s due date. We’ll be in London for most of March and April. Well, there’s always May. I suppose we could—” I broke off as Briony stiffly stood up, bending to retrieve her glass from the table. “Where are you going, love?” When Briony looked at me, the mixture of hurt, anger, and confusion in her eyes stunned me. “Nick. Just what makes you think I’m willing to put off my plans again?” The tone in her voice caused me to sit up in my chair, a frisson of unease shooting down my spine. I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t wish for you to put it off. It just seemed like a lot to balance between all of our other obligations. I don’t want you to burn out, love.” Briony’s eyebrows shot up, but she tilted her head to the side as she studied me. “Getting Day launched is my only obligation right now, Nick. Next year, with your investment, I’ll get Night launched. That’s all I have going on. I know you’re going to be in New Zealand, but why I would wait until you get back is beyond me. I haven’t needed your help until this point. I don’t see why things would suddenly be too great to deal with when you aren’t around.” A sharp pang shot through me at her words, and I stood to rest my hands on her shoulders as confusion swirled in my mind. “Darling, I think something has been lost in translation. I know you haven’t needed my help in the past, but when I’m around, you have me at your disposal. I didn’t mean to indicate you wouldn’t be able to launch Day in the short window of time. I just thought it might be easier to do so when we’re both available. Taking four months off after the launch then another two months after for Evie’s baby might be a bit taxing. That’s all I meant.” Briony held up both hands as she stepped out of my embrace. “Wait. What do you mean taking four months off?” I stared at her, flabbergasted. “Well, how else would you travel with me to New Zealand?” Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as she spun toward the rail, her hands on her head. When she turned to face me again, her face was a mask of disbelief. “Why would I go with you to New Zealand? I don’t work for you anymore.” I blinked at her as I slowly responded, “I know that, love. However, I’ll be gone for months…do you mean to say, you have no intention of coming with me when I travel for work?” Briony gritted her teeth as she shook her head. “Nick, I have my own job—my own business to run. Why would I take off for months at a time? How would I pay my bills? How would I live?” I swallowed, offering a bewildered smile. “Is that what’s worrying you? We’re together now, darling. What bills do you have to worry about? At some point we’ll be married, and that won’t be a consideration at all.” She stared back at me like I was a man in need of a brain. “Nicholas. Are you suggesting that I should just drop everything to follow you around the world?” She quietly asked. Alarm bells began to go off, and I recognized the need to tread carefully. “No…I wouldn’t suggest that. It’s just…why are we together if we aren’t going to be…together? That doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Briony inhaled sharply, a range of emotions crossing her face. The confusion I felt only became more pronounced as I struggled to understand where we were failing to communicate. “Ok,” I said, holding up my hands. “Let’s just calm down. If you don’t want to travel with me to New Zealand, you don’t have to. I assumed that you would want to continue spending as much time together as possible. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry. But, what am I supposed to do without you for four months? Live off of Alfie’s food?” My poor attempt at a joke fell flat. I knew it as soon as it left my mouth, yet the conversation had me at sixes and sevens. What was I supposed to say? Briony ran a hand over her face. “You know what, Nick. I don’t know what you’re going to do for four months. All I know is that if this is going to work—if we’re going to work, then you’re going to have to respect the work that I do. I don’t exist just to cook your meals and escort you around the world!” It felt like all of the oxygen evaporated from the balcony in that moment, and I closed my eyes as I tried to pull in a breath. “That isn’t fair, Briony. You know that I value you more than that. Why else would I offer to invest in Night? In fact—” “I’m tired, Nick. Let’s just end it here. I’m going to bed.” For the first time, I noticed the dark grey bags under her eyes, and the way her shoulders drooped, as if under some great weight. I nodded. “Alright. Get some rest, my love. We can discuss it tomorrow. I have to be at the studio a little later tomorrow, so a light dinner should be fine.” Briony looked at me then, and I could have sworn I saw something shine in her eyes before she quickly turned toward the balcony doors. “Good bye, Nick.” “Good Night, love.” I wanted to reach out and wrap her in my arms as I had done so many times over the past three weeks. To hold her and tell her it would be alright. That we’d figure it out. Yet, there was a prickliness about her…something that screamed don’t touch. So, instead, I watched her traipse through the doors as I tried to figure out what exactly had just happened… Alfie claps a hand to his forehead as Evie groans. “So, what did you do after that?” My sister asks. I look between the two of them in confusion. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything? I went to bed. She seemed fine this morning…maybe a bit quiet if anything. I’m sure you can see there was nothing to indicate something so dramatic as leaving the country unannounced.” While Evie and Alfie stare at me in disbelief, I shrug my shoulders. “If either of you have something to say, now would be a good time. I should probably call again to see if she’s willing to talk.” Evie pokes me in the chest. “How could you? You know how much her food truck business means to her!” The irritation rises in my chest as I brush Evie’s hand aside. “Of course, I know how much it means to her. If there’s some misunderstanding about that, we’ll clear it up. Why are you all being so dramatic?” Alfie says something under his breath, then aloud, “I’m cancelling the wedding.” I frown, the panic returning in a rush. “What? No! I’ve just gotten used to the idea! Why would you—” Alfie starts pushing buttons on his phone as he turns away. “Sir, respectfully, you don’t deserve her.” My brows shoot to my hairline, something like panic setting in. “How could you of all people say that! You know how I feel about her!” Alfie whirls back on me, his face a cold mask. “Did you know that her fish vendor fell through on her yesterday? Or that she’s been fighting with the mechanics over the billing since they want to be paid in cash when they said they accepted credit at first? Or that she’s been worried that she won’t have the time to get the truck painted out because the mechanics don’t want to deliver the truck unless she’s there to receive it?” My mouth opens and closes as a wave of dread washes over me. “No..I—she didn’t mention—” Alfie’s dark eyes flash as he growls, “No, but she wouldn’t, would she? Do you ever ask how her day was? Or, how things are going? Or do you just wait for her to mention something in passing?” I stare dumbly at him. Surely, I’ve…at least once. But..no. I know I haven’t. We talk about nearly everything else. I collapse on the sofa, as I try to sort it all out. I could get upset with her for not sharing these things with me, but the truth is, I’m upset with myself. I should know these things. I should be taking an interest in one of the most important things in her life. Instead, I’ve ignored it as much as I could. Why? “Did you ever tell her that you love her?” Evie asks, more than a little concern in her voice. I blink up at her, my stomach pitching wildly. “Well, no..not yet. I wanted to…it should be under different circumstances…” “Oh? When will that be? Before your first child goes to kindergarten, I hope!” Alfie huffs. What is happening today? I look between the two of them wildly. “Are you all out of your minds? I’m the one struggling to figure out what’s going on. Why does it feel as though there’s one grand secret being kept from me?” Evie sighs as she rubs her eyes. “Alfie, give us a minute, please.” Alfie looks back at me, shaking his head on his way upstairs. Evie sits next to me on the sofa, turning to face me. “Why do you think Briony left early, Nick?” I scrub my hands over my face before slowly running them through my hair. I’ve been at the studio at 6am every day this week, and want nothing more than to have something hot to eat and pass out. “I don’t know, Evie,” I say tiredly. “I guess that’s something I should ask her when I see her on Saturday.” Her eyes narrow on me. “Ah, so you’re going back on your original flight.” I wave a hand helplessly in the air. “I don’t see why not. I still have work to wrap up.” “Nicky,” Evie drops her chin, as she pins me with her Mother look..the one that says she’d rather just smack me in the head. “I’m going to speak slowly, so keep up. Who is the most important person in your life?” I frown. “It’s Briony, of course.” Evie nods. “Right. But, why?” I pause. “She’s the person I spend the most time with in a day. She literally keeps me alive.” Evie raises a brow. “How about something a little less proximity related. Or, even job related for that matter.” Sighing, I prop my chin on a fist. “What do I say? She’s brilliant, talented, gorgeous, she cares about people. She cares about me, and not just that I eat in a timely manner. She sees me. Nick the person, not Nicholas the actor. I’m a better person for being around her, and the idea of being separated from her physically pains me.” Evie nods. “Ok, so why haven’t you told her that?” My mind whirls as I blankly stare at her. “I…” My voice trails off as I come up empty. “I don’t know.” “Ok, let’s come back to that. Briony is the most important person in your life. If it were anyone other than Briony, I would take issue with being bumped from the spot. However, I’m willing to concede to my best friend because she’s awesome. Do you think you’re awesome enough to bump me from her number one spot?” My brows raise. “That’s a pretty high opinion of yourself isn’t it? After all, Wyn is her fleshly sister.” Evie waves a hand as she shakes her head. “Semantics. We’re all top three for sure. The point is…where do you rank yourself in her eyes? Are you not giving your all because you’re afraid?” “What would I have to be afraid of?” I swallow. “I know how we feel about each other at the moment. That’s all that matters.” She hikes a brow. “At the moment? Are your feelings transient?” I glare at her. “Not at all. I’ve never been more certain of my feelings.” Evie nods. “That’s wonderful. Do you feel the same way about Briony’s feelings? Do you think she can easily change her mind about how she feels about you?” Rubbing the back of my neck, I shrug, doing my best to ignore a cold lump that has settled in the pit of my stomach. “Nick, do you think you’re worth Briony’s time?” I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. “Well…” My mouth dries, and the words stick in my throat. Evie nods. “So, what are you afraid of? That you’re not good enough for her? That she’ll ultimately reject you?” “No…” The word comes out on a puff of air. There’s no strength behind it, as I realize Evie may be on to something. Evie tilts her head to the side, reminding me of Briony. “Is that why you haven’t hyper focused on her like you do with everything else you love? Have you been taking it slowly because you’re afraid you’ll lose her?” Her question resonates somewhere deep within me, and I realize it’s true. I’ll surely be ruined if I lose Briony now. Living without her would be difficult, but if I focus all of my energy on her, and go all in, only to be rejected later? I don’t think I would survive. I nod miserably as tears prickle at the back of my eyes. “What if I’m not enough for her, Evie? What if I give her my all and she still decides she doesn’t want this…want me?” “Then, that’s her right as a human being,” Evie nods firmly. “But, what if you continue like this, holding yourself back from the full effort, and she still leaves? Wouldn’t it hurt more knowing that you could have done something to change the outcome?” I choke on the spit that I sharply inhale, and after a fit of coughing I stare back at Evie in amazement. “This goes back to the idea of loving someone the way they want to be loved, doesn’t it?” Evie grasps my hand and gives it gentle shake. “If you don’t love with everything, don’t you think the other person will know it? Especially with someone who knows you as well as you say Briony does? It’s tempting to put the people we love on a pedestal and hope that they love us enough to stay there. However, that rarely works for people who want to live rather than be enjoyed.” I frown in response. “So, you’re saying by loving her in halves, I’m not only not getting the full experience, I’m also not giving her the full experience.” Evie taps a finger to her chin as she thinks. “It’s the same as taking your most prized possession, putting it on a pedestal, shining a spotlight on it, and visiting it every day, but never dusting it, or putting in the effort to clean it. The minimal effort may work for a while, but eventually the piece will dull. It may get caked with dust and grime. It won’t shine the way it could, and it will no longer be appealing on the pedestal.” My brows shoot up as she continues. “Only, Briony, is a person, with feelings and emotions, desires and motivations that change, like you and me. As a good partner, how do you love completely if you merely show half an interest in them? If you don’t have those conversations?” “I know how she feels about things…” “But what about her life, Nicky? What about the things that make her tick? You can observe forever, but until you’re willing to steep yourself in the essence of who she is, you’ll never be the partner she needs, because you won’t be able to show up in the ways that truly matter to her. You know what tea she likes? Wonderful. So does her barista at Starbucks. You mean more than they do, so you have to dig deeper than they do. Deeper than you’ve ever gone with another person.” I look away in shame. It’s something that I should know, and yet, for the first time, it’s clear to me that in trying to preserve my own feelings, I’ve been neglectful of Briony’s. I feel sick as Evie continues. “Look, Nicky, I know you can do it. You feel deeply, so I don’t think your feelings are shallow. But, I do think the very fear that’s keeping you from going all in, is the same fear that will ultimately sabotage your relationship. It’s up to you what you do from here.” She then stands and gives me a hug. “I love you both, and you’ll both be in my life no matter what happens.” Evie pulls back to look me in the eye. “But if you think for a minute I’m putting her out of the delivery room because you couldn’t get yourself together, you’d better think again.” I offer a tight smile as I hug her in return. “We can’t have that now, can we?” She taps me on the shoulder. “Which is why you’ll figure it out. I believe Briony’s planning to pack up her cottage and put everything in storage until she can find a place to stay. Hopefully, you can talk her out of it.” I abruptly stand up. “She had agreed to stay!” Evie levels me with a stern look. “Then, give her a reason, Nicky.” Resting a hand on my cheek she smiles. “Aren’t you the one always quoting Byron? ‘Friendship is love without its wings!’ It’s about time that you fully take the leap and give your friendship some wings, darling.” With that she collects her things and sails out of the door with promises to keep in touch. I slowly trudge upstairs as I contemplate everything that happened in the past 24 hours. I have to fix this..I’m going to fix this. When I enter my navy and tan bedroom, it takes me a moment to notice the white card on my blue duvet. Recognizing Briony’s handwriting, I rip open the card and stare at the two sentences written there. I just need some time to figure out if this is going where we both need it to go. If not, some difficult, but necessary changes need to be made. Briony I don’t know how long I stand there holding the card. Does this mean…she’s breaking up with me? As the thought fills my mind, it lights a fire in me, and I spring into action. Storming into the hallway, I bang on Alfie’s door. When it swings open, I waste no time. “Reschedule me for what ever work remains to be done, but I need to be in New York by tomorrow. We’ll need a jet, Alf.” Alfie looks back at me in surprise at first, then as a slow smile spreads across his face, I turn to walk away. “I’m getting Tiffany place settings for your wedding present!” He calls out gleefully. “Make sure it’s for 12,” I shout, jogging to my room to pack. I toss a few things in a satchel, knowing Alf will get everything else sorted later, but my mind is on my wife. If wings are what Briony is after, then that’s what she’s going to get. In spades…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 19 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 21Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 18 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 20Just do it. Why are you being so dramatic? There’s nothing to worry about this time. I pause on the steps of the camper as I look out at the film set. After the last of the indoor scenes in the cottage were filmed this morning, the cameras were set up for filming the last scene this afternoon. Although, it’s technically not the last scene of the series, since that was filmed when we first arrived in May. That scene had involved a sweeping panoramic shot of Rafe and Annika running toward each other across the field. I shudder as I remember how many times I’d gagged watching Amelia end up in Nick’s arms, where she practically tried to maul him, despite it not being a kissing scene. At least there’s none of that today. This scene ends in a lover’s quarrel. I’ve never seen Nick raise his voice at a woman in real life, so it’s always fascinating to watch his process when he’s acting. Yeah, I definitely don’t want to miss this. Thankfully, I don’t have to go far. As soon as I step out of the camper, Alfie sees me, and comes over to escort me to Nick’s seat. Before I know it, I’m bundled in blankets with a thermos full of hot tea, as the AD hands me a pair of headphones. Andrew, strolls over on the way to his director’s chair and stops to look at me curiously. “You gave us quite the scare, Briony!” I’ve barely nodded, when his slender face lights up in a grin. “I’m glad to see you’re alright, darling. I’ve never seen anyone turn as pale as Nicholas did before he dove off that pier yesterday. Are you quite alright? Can we get you anything?” Wide eyed, I shake my head and thank him before he heads over to his seat. Last night, after talking to Evie and Wyn on the phone, I pulled up the footage from online news articles about the event. The videos showed everything from Nick diving into the water, to him performing CPR on me, to him storming past the camera, stone faced as he carried me through the crowd. It all looked like something out of a movie. Some were claiming it was part of a publicity stunt, while others hailed him a hero, and still others speculated whether or not we were in a relationship. The general consensus on the last piece of gossip, was that I was his secret wife, and we were expecting our first child. I’d laughed at that one, but when I looked back at those videos, as I did many, many times last night, I saw what everyone else saw. From the fear in his eyes when he swam back to the dock and passed me to Alfie, to the anguish on his face when he started chest compressions, and the tender way he held me as he carried me through the crowd, gripping me for dear life. Heck, even I swooned watching it the first time. Nick looked like a man in love. Could it be? Could he really be just as much in love with me as I am with him? Come on Briony, you can’t leave me like this. Come on, love! whispers to me from the deep recesses of my mind. Was that Nick? Did he really say that? Looking around, everyone is busy getting ready for this closing scene. Martin waves at me as he passes by. He’d been so nice as he examined me a few times throughout the day. At first, Nick seemed really tense when I climbed into the van this morning. Yet, when he saw how Martin took care to make sure I was ok, I think he was relieved I hadn’t stayed at the chalet alone. Andrew says something to the AD, and the call to places is made through walkie talkies. They do a couple of takes, before making some adjustments. From a screen we can see the shot taken from the inside of the cottage in front of the door, and as Nick’s handsome face fills the screen with a last bit of rushing around, Andrew again calls, “Action!” Nick looks up and suddenly, it’s Rafe on the screen, his face a mask of determination as Annika quietly insists, “Someone else can do it.” Rafe shakes his head, and looks up at her, his eyes anguished. “It’s my duty. I’m honor bound to see this through.” Annika’s face twists in fury as she yells. “And, what about how you and I are bound?” Rafe quietly works his jaw, before he stands and begins packing his few belongings into a satchel. The silence becomes a breathing thing, a thousand words spilling, unspoken into its void. “Why?” Annika finally demands, crossing to the small room to shove him. “Why?” She screams, tears slowly falling. Rafe turns to look at her, his eyes tortured when he shouts, “They died on this very mountain, Ani!” His voice becomes hoarse, his eyes welling with tears as he gestures helplessly outside. “I can’t go on living here like a..coward. I won’t,” he grits out in a stronger voice. “They were all good men. They had lives…they had families.” Rafe stares off in the distance as he works to get his emotions under control. “They deserve more…they deserved better than what they got.” His voice cracks on the last word, and he falls silent as he finishes throwing his clothes in the satchel and closes it up. Annika, beginning to look desperate, rushes over to cling to him as he takes his bag and walks to the door. “You said you were done with war—you were done with racking up debts you can’t pay back to God!” Rafe freezes, his hand on the door, wavering in indecision. “Stay,” she pleads, pulling on his arm, tears in her eyes. “We’ll figure it out.” Rafe looks back at her, quiet devastation apparent on his face, before he opens the door and steps outside. He turns back, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll never be the man you need me to be if I do.” Annika then raises her hand with lightning speed and slaps him across the face. That was not scripted and I immediately jump up as I hear the crack through the headphones and see Nick’s head turn with the blow. As I snatch off the headphones, ready to throw hands with Amelia, Alfie rests a hand on my shoulder. I look over at Andrew who has a hand up so that no one interferes and lets the scene play out. I plan to set some people on fire later, but for now, I’m going to let Nick do his job. I slam the headphones back on my head as I sit down and try to focus on the scene in front of me. The anguish of loss plays out across Rafe’s face, yet his resolve is apparent in his eyes, even as he stretches a gentle hand out toward Annika’s face. It hovers near her cheek a few seconds without touching her, before it drops, and he backs away with a firm set of his jaw. Turning without a word, he silently walks away, his steps more sure as he leaves her weeping in the doorway. I look up in amazement to watch Nick walk towards the setting sun as Annika collapses in the doorway behind him. In the script, Annika doesn’t slap him. Instead, Rafe pulls her close and softly kisses her on the forehead, before he walks away. The revision is poignant, and as the camera zooms in to capture Rafe’s look of determination as he goes off to his uncertain future, the audience is left with an uneasy apprehension. When the last episode airs, the audience will complete the journey with Rafe as he goes on trial for desertion when he refuses to go back to war. He makes an impassioned plea for conscientious objection, but still ends up going to prison for three years. A full year after the war has ended, he’s released from prison with a dishonorable discharge. The last scene, where he finally makes it back to Annika is a fitting ending for the boy who loved to fly, as he becomes a man who learns to stand his ground. The cast is elated as Andrew yells, “Cut!” So many hoots and hollers go up in fact, that it’s a wonder the sheep in the field nearby don’t join in. Andrew calls for some more shots of Nick walking away through the field, but everyone knows it’s solid gold, and when the final ‘Cut! That’s a wrap!’ is called, the applause is heartfelt. The amount and quality of work that this cast put in has been amazing to see, and I get a bit teary eyed along with the rest of the crew. Cast and crew are walking around congratulating each other, and I can’t believe this part of the production is over. I can’t believe this is my last time seeing the magic behind the scenes… As I look around for Nick, I spot him just as Amelia launches herself at him. He catches her, and sets her down as she excitedly talks waving her arms around. Unbelievable. Here I am, ready to skin that woman alive, and he’s hugging her? Her hand print is still on his face! When he nods at her, offering a little smile, I take my blankets and empty thermos back to the van. Once I’m inside, I sit the thermos in the sink, put a baggie of metal cubes in the little ice box, and head in to the bedroom to lay down. About twenty minutes later, Nick’s lemon lavender scent drifts in on the breeze when he opens the door, and I immediately close my eyes. I can’t explain the emotions running through me at the moment, but I know that I’m not ready to see his face. Yet, when the bed sinks as he settles in behind me, I bolt upright. His smirking face isn’t the least bit amusing. “What are you doing back here?” I demand. Nick smiles as he leans against the headboard. “I was going to have a bit of a lie down myself. Alfie is going to drop off the staff gifts, and I’m going back to the chalet to have dinner with you.” My brows rise involuntarily. “You’re going to miss the wrap party? Why?” Nick shrugs as he closes his eyes. “Maybe I’m old, and I can’t party like I used to.” Leaning close, I can see the dull handprint is still visible, although it has lost some of it’s redness. I raise a hand to touch it, and that’s when I notice Nick is staring at me, his blue eyes lit with some emotion I can’t name. “Does it still hurt?” I ask. Nick shakes his head dismissively, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Only when I think about it.” I start to smile in return, before I remember I’m mad at him, and cross my arms. “I almost came out the box to snatch Amelia up.” Nick’s smile blossoms as he dips his head. “Why didn’t you?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Alfie saved her, then, as you continued acting, I realized it was something you all cooked up before hand. I’m still angry with you for not telling me in advance.” Nick laughs as he pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, love. Andrew swore us to secrecy. You know I would have told you otherwise.” I grimace, although I relax in his arms. “I thought we agreed not to keep secrets after you, Tom and Tobey pulled that last prank on set?” I can feel his chuckle rumble through his chest, and I close my eyes to bask in the sound. “I thought that promise only referred to pranks, but you’re right. I’ll not do anything that will scare you again without your prior knowledge.” I pull away to twist around and scowl at him. “Nor will you allow someone to put any marks on your body if it’s not done with makeup. Especially not your face.” Nick smothers a grin as he nods, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re right. It was a terrible decision. To be fair, I didn’t realize Ms. Raglan would slap me quite as hard as she did.” I glare at him, but he just bursts into laughter and pulls me in for another hug. “You’re right, my life. It’s my fault, and I shouldn’t have allowed it.” I hum in indignation, but I settle back against him. “This is absolutely no way for a courting man to behave.” Nick’s laughter is nearly immediate. “Honestly, love, I think you really are older than me. Who says courting anymore?” I elbow him in side. “I do! Unless…” I sit back to peer at him scandalized, arms crossed over my chest. “Yesterday when you spoke of taking things farther, did you only mean you wanted to date me? Are you only trying to woo me for selfish gains?” Nick laughs again as he cups his injured cheek. “Stop making me laugh! It hurts!” I smile devilishly. “That’s what happens when you mess with me. Do you get workers comp for that?” Nick chuckles. “No, but I’ll ask for injury pay. The force was excessive.” I move to get off the bed, as I say, “Don’t forget to ask for stunt pay. You should also get pay for emotional pain and suffering, because you had to get a lecture from me. And, you need pay to cover the therapy, from the emotional wounds you suffer—” “Alright!” He throws his hands up in surrender as he laughs. “I’m sorry, I won’t make this mistake again. I promise. Where are you going?” I’ve stood up, and turn around to answer. “I have something for you in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” Filling a cup with water, I sit it on the counter as I reach into the ice box for the metal cubes, which are now ice cold. I wrap a kitchen towel around them, and pick up my cup of water before turning towards the bedroom. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! A look out of the window reveals it’s Amelia. She’s changed out of her costume, and dressed in a black Louis Vuitton v-neck jumpsuit. A gold belt and heels match the gold flashing at her ears and wrists. She’s even styled her long pale blonde hair in a tangle of curls around her face. I slide open the door of the van, pleased to see her flinch when she sees me. “Oh! Briony. I didn’t realize—I saw when Nick—Nicholas rescued you yesterday. Are you alright, darling?” Amelia asks, her nose wrinkling in disgust. I smile heartily. “I’ve never been better, thank you so much for visiting just to ask. Now, if you’ll excuse—” Amelia holds up a slim hand as she haughtily interrupts me. “Actually, I’m here to see Nicholas. I heard he won’t be in attendance at the wrap party, so I dropped by to personally thank him for a lovely shoot. Now, do you mind stepping out so that I can check on him? I’m sure his cheek needs tending.” I laugh quietly. This girl is really trying it. Well, she asked for it. “You know what? He’s fine. We’re actually resting right now. But, I do have something to return to you.” Turning slightly, I take my cup and throw the contents, watching as the water arcs through the air before landing on her in a satisfying way. Amelia screams and sputters as she tries to shake the water off. “What’s wrong with you!” She shrieks, her curls now plastered to her face. “Whoops!” I frown. “Oh dear. It’s a bit slippery there. You might want to watch your step.” With that I swing the door closed, and startle when I see Nick lazily leaning against the wall with a broad grin on his face. “Finally standing up for yourself, I see. Or was that for me?” I snort. “If I were standing up for you, she would be leaving here with two black eyes, not drenched in something that will dry in an hour without any residue.” His mouth twists in a wry smile. “I’m sure her face and hair will dry. I’m not sure how her designer suit will fare.” I smile serenely. “Personal problems aren’t my problems.” Nick laughs, but his smile drops as he pulls me into a hug. “I think you need to rest, love. We ha—” Whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by insistent tapping on the door. He leans past me to roll it open as a red faced Amelia stands on the other side. I smirk as she points an accusatory finger at me. “Nicholas, I think you should do something about your staff. Do you know she threw water all over me! My suit is ruined! I expect to be fully compensated for this—” Nick had leaned against the counter top when he swung the door open, but now, he pulls me into his arms as Amelia begins sputtering. “Oh, Miss Raglan. Yes, Briony can get rather cross with people who take certain liberties. I’m sure you’re glad it was only water.” Amelia turns a deeper shade of red when I rest my head against Nick’s chest as he begins rubbing my back. “Nick doesn’t really like to get involved in my disputes, Amelia, but if you wish to continue this conversation with me outside, I’m happy to oblige.” Amelia’s eyes widen in disbelief as she looks back and forth between us, open mouthed. Nick puts his hand on the door handle. “Well, if that’s all Amelia, please excuse us. You’ve caught us quite in the middle of wooing one another,” he concludes, shooting me a look that melts me in a puddle of giggles. Amelia’s lips form the word ‘woo’ as she looks at the both of us like we’re crazy. “Wait a minute. The rumors are true, then? You two are…?” I raise a brow as Nick shakes his head. “No, the rumors aren’t true. We aren’t an item. I’m Briony’s future husband, as long as she’ll still have me.” He looks down at my startled face, adding, “That is what courting means, my love. And that’s what’s happening here after all.” I grin, a wave of warmth traveling through me as something molten sinks into my belly. I love this man so much. “Ah,” Amelia exclaims, much louder than the situation calls for. “I hadn’t realized. I apologize for my..er, intrusion. Briony, if you’d like to exchange information, to settle the matter of the wardrobe that needs to be compensated, I’ll be glad to—” “How thoughtful of you, Miss Raglan,” Nick interrupts dryly. “Briony didn’t want to bring it up, feeling that it would be uncouth to request compensation for something that was so obviously not intended. But, since you’ve brought it up, we’re much obliged. We’ll get you the receipts for the new suit, and have Alfie send it to you.” Amelia’s head snaps back in surprise as she frowns. “You’ll send me the receipts?” Nick nods as he lazily traces a circle on my back. “Of course, Miss Raglan. Don’t worry, it was only £4000 to replace Briony’s motorbike kit after you spilled your soft drink all over her that day.” Amelia’s eyes round as she exclaims, “£4000?” I smirk as Nick nods. “It’s inclusive of tax of course.” Amelia looks around, perhaps searching for a way out of this conversation, when she erupts in high pitched laughter. “Surely between friends, we wouldn’t expect—?” “No, no of course not,” Nick smoothly interjects. “Naturally, I didn’t include the cost of express shipping, since our desire to replace it as quickly as possible wasn’t out of necessity, but our own desire to have done with it as quickly as possible.” Amelia’s high pitched laughter rings out again, and Nick raises a brow. “If there’s nothing else Miss Raglan, we have wooing to get back to..” “Yes, and you’ll probably want to get changed before the wrap party starts,” I add. Amelia backs away from the van with a jerky nod of her head. “Yes. Of course, well thank you for…I’ll expect your receipts.” “Have a good evening,” Nick calls, as he leans over to roll the camper door shut. In one fluid movement, he then picks me up and deposits me on the bed. “Now. What did you have for me, love?” He asks, looking down at me curiously. My brows immediately shoot up. “What?” I ask, the word coming out louder than I anticipated. Nick lowers his brows. “When you left the room, you said you had something for me. What was it?” A wave of relief races through me so powerfully, that I’m sure I would have collapsed if I weren’t already sitting down. “Oh! Here,” I say, holding up the towel wrapped around the baggie of metal cubes. “For your face.” Nick takes them from me with a smile as he sits at the edge of the bed. “Thank you, my love. What would I do without you?” I look at him askance as he presses the towel to his face. “I assume you would live out your days dodging Amelia, while reading poetry in your garden, and eating food that tastes like cardboard.” Nick laughs, his eyes sparkling gleefully. “You’ve certainly said it all!” We’re snuggled next to each other under a blanket on the back deck, looking at the stars, when Nick turns towards me. “Briony,” he says softly, his voice earnest. “I want you to know how much I value you. Not just what you do, but who you are. Who I can be when I’m around you. Even if you took the leap and wooed me first, I want you to know I plan to take our courtship to its finish.” A shudder goes through me, even as I look at him in surprise. “What do you mean, I wooed you first?” Nick smiles faintly in the moonlight, his blue eyes glimmering in amusement. “Maybe one day I’ll remind you, but tell me, darling. Am I moving too fast, for you?” I smile at the thought. “Um, no. Fast isn’t anywhere near what I’d describe your pace. But, I’m glad it’s picked up considerably since February.” Nick chuckles. “I’m here to please, and since you feel that way, I have something for you.” Reaching beside him, he picks up a small black and silver bag from a jewelry store in town and hands it to me. My brows shoot up as I wonder what it is, and when he got it. “What’s this?” He silently gestures to the bag, but I can see the tension in his shoulders as he waits for me to open it. “Ok, Nicky babe. Let’s see what we got.” Reaching into the bag, I pull out a long blue velvet box. Was I hoping for a ring? I would have said no, until I pulled out this box. When a zing of disappointment goes through me, I know exactly how far gone I am. Shaking it off, I smile at the thought that he actually went into a jewelry store to buy this. Nick doesn’t say anything until I open the jewelry box and silently stare inside. That’s when he starts talking a mile a minute, and I realize, he’s nervous. “The clerk at the shop said that it was their most popular piece at the moment. I didn’t believe her until I saw it and it immediately reminded me of you. I know it might appear strange on the surface, darling, but it’s actually quite smart.” Nick lifts the stunning woven gold necklace out of the box and holds it up for me to see. “It’s actually morse code, love. See? The diamond baguettes are the dashes, and the little sapphire stars are supposed to be the dots.” My eyes water as I look from the necklace to him. He’s looking at me earnestly, though he’s starting to frown a bit. “You can wear it under your chef’s jacket, and it won’t interfere with your work…” his voice trails off as he looks at me uncertainly. I rest a hand on his leg. “I love it, Nick! It’s gorgeous…it just seems really expensive. I would hate to lose it.” Nick’s eyes gleam as his smile spreads. “Don’t worry about that, love. That’s what insurance is for.” I gently touch it as it glitters in the moonlight. “What does it say?” He smiles mischievously. “It says…be mine. Will you?” I nod as I chuckle. “Yes. Absolutely.” “Would you like me to put it on?” “Would you, please?” I smile, still stunned that he bought me something so expensive. Turning around, I lift the curls off of my neck. When he gets it latched, he turns me around to adjust it and my heart riots at the tenderness in his eyes. “Thank you, Nick, ” I smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He nods as he pushes my hair over my shoulder and, as our eyes connect he chuckles self-consciously. “I’m sorry, I never thought this day would arrive. I couldn’t imagine you would ever feel drawn to me the way I feel drawn to you. I’m still not sure I dare to dream. I’m..almost afraid to move, for fear that it will slip out of my grasp.” I reach up to brush his medium length waves behind his ear. “There,” I whisper with a smile. “I know the feeling.” I lean in to hug him, and as he squeezes my shoulder, I listen to the rapid beat of his heart. I guess we know we’re attracted to each other, but I frown as I wonder if this conversation counts as defining the relationship. I can’t exactly google it right now. So I ask. “Nick. What would you say we are right not? If you were defining our relationship?” Nick freezes and a full minute goes by before he hedges, “We’re more than friends…” When it becomes apparent he’s not going to say anything else, I nod. “Ok, but am I your girlfriend? Or, are we still in some kind of exploratory stage? What are we?” Nick pulls away and looks down at me confused. “We’re courting, so I think it’s more than an exploratory stage. We know each other better than nearly anyone else. Doesn’t that mean that we’re far beyond boyfriend or girlfriend?” I nod in agreement. “That makes sense to me, but what is that called?” Nick tilts his head as he looks down at me. “Kindred? Meant to be?” I look up at him and nod. Maybe he’s trying to figure it out too. Perhaps we don’t need to figure it out now at all. Maybe we can just be. When another thought suddenly occurs to me, I nudge him in the ribs. “When you told Amelia that my motorcycle kit cost £4000, I nearly passed out. That was hilarious.” Nick looks down at me solemnly. “It did.” I laugh hysterically. “That was really funny.” He looks at me quizzically, and that’s when I realize it’s not a joke. “You’re serious!” Nick slowly nods his head, his brow wrinkling in bemusement. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” My legs go weak in disbelief. “Why would you spend so much on a kit? I could have had that last kit cleaned!” In fact, despite his protests, it was exactly what I had done, even though I wore the new kit for a while just to avoid an argument. Nick frowns with a little smile as he tilts his head. “You’re more than worth it, Briony.” And, for once, I believe him. He’s proven it, without a complaint, or feeling a need to bring it up. It’s such a good representation of what his love is like. Soft, slow, quiet and dependable. I lace my fingers through his. He’s everything that I could want. “I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper, grazing my thumb over the side of his. He holds me tighter as he drops a kiss on top of my head. “I’m also glad you’re here, my life.” As we settle back to enjoy the stars, I smile. The only thing that could make this moment more perfect is if Nick kissed me. My brow wrinkles. Why hasn’t he kissed me? I give myself a mental shake. I’m sure he has a reason. Maybe he’s waiting for a special moment..Ok..a more special moment. It’s fine…right?← Previous Chapter: Chapter 18 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 20Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 17 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 19When Andrew calls ‘cut’ the final time and holds up a thumb, I heave a sigh of relief. I may have filmed my share of kissing scenes, but that doesn’t make them an enjoyable experience. Usually I get lost in the choreography of where to place my hands, how to angle my head, all while behaving as the character requires. But, on occasion, I’m dragged out of what’s going on in my head, when an overeager partner decides to ‘infuse a bit more of themselves into it…for realism.’ Very much like today. Despite the fact that I have only had one real kiss in my life, because I’m certainly counting that brief brush with Briony as a kiss, I know it was the best kiss I’ve ever experienced. It still conjures feelings unlike anything I’ve experienced before, so there isn’t a single other person I’d rather spend my kisses on. Which is why, despite resenting the attempt to break me out of character so that the scene would require a reshoot, for the sake of expediency, I endured it. Other than a few brief words between takes to let Amelia know I did not approve of her heavy handed tactics, I just got on with it. “That was bang on you two!” Andrew crows as he approaches us. “Amelia, darling, the kiss was a bit aggressive at first, but as Nick tamed it, it played really well into the story from what we know of the characters. So, we’ve got it.” I’m looking forward to scrubbing my mouth when I get back to the van, and eating one of the delightful pomegranate and peach sweets Briony keeps stocked for such occasions. Yet, Amelia frowns, putting her hands up to her reddened cheeks. “Really? Don’t you think we should get a few more takes, just to be certain we’ve got it?” Looking her in the eye, I quietly, but firmly shake my head in response. “No. Trust the process, and in future, follow the lead of your acting partner. While actors may keep silent, fearing the truth may be poorly received when we express concerns over these things, as time goes on, you may find the well of those willing to work with you will shrink,” I add. “As it has today.” Without awaiting a response, I start towards Alfie at the edge of the nearby crowd. Most of the onlookers already have pens and posters out, so I know it’s going to be a few minutes of signing autographs before I can leave. However, I’m stopped when Andrew rests a hand on my shoulder. “Excellent work today, Nicholas. I have a couple of notes for you on tomorrow’s shoot.” As they often did when I had a break today, my eyes travel the short distance to the dock where Briony has been watching. However, unlike every other time this afternoon, she isn’t looking at me. She’s barely on her feet when her foot slips and she falls, hitting her head on the side of the dock as she tumbles into the water. “BRIONY!” I shout as everything stops, the air freezing in my lungs. Pulling off my shoes, my feet are suddenly in motion, and in three steps, I’ve leapt off the pier into the cold water. No! No! No! As I cut through the water towards the dock, my heart is beating so rapidly, I can’t hear or see anything else. Getting to Briony is the only thing that matters. Diving through the clear water, I scan the area, and when I don’t see her, I come up for air. The world around me looks blurry, and I realize I’ve lost my contact lenses. Still, with no time to waste, I dive once more, and doing another sweep to the right, I finally see Briony drifting with the current, arms outstretched, about 15 feet below me. When I reach her, I hook an arm under her shoulders and drag her to the surface. By the time I reach the dock, Alfie is there, completely stone faced as he easily lifts her out of the water. She’s unnaturally still, and there’s a cut surrounded by a large purple knot on the side of her head. “She’s not breathing,” I grate out, pulling myself out of the water, as panic courses through me. Alfie lays her unresponsive body on the dock, and kneeling beside her, I tilt her head back, pinch her nose and give her five rescue breaths. Her lips are cold, and when there’s no response, ignoring the tears that spring to my eyes, I begin chest compressions. “Come on, Briony. You can’t leave me, this way,” I say hoarsely. “Come on, love.” After a few tense moments, she violently lurches up, coughing up a mouthful of water. Pushing her onto her side, I rub her back as she splutters, trying to suck in lungfuls of air. “Oh, thank God!” I exhale shakily, nearly collapsing from relief. “Briony!” Alfie calls after the coughing abates. “Are you in pain anywhere?” Briony weakly looks back and forth between us, her doe like eyes widened in terror as she locks on mine. “My head,” she rasps before falling into another fit of coughing. When her coughs seem to abate, I lean over her. “Hold on to me, love.” Gathering her in my arms, I slowly stand as the dock rocks beneath my feet. “Have the set medic meet us at the van,” I say to Alfie as I walk by. He immediately rushes ahead of me to get the staff doctor. Carefully climbing the stone steps to the street, I storm through a group of onlookers with their phones out. I don’t care how it looks, now isn’t the time or place to entertain fans. We’re only a couple of meters from the camper, when Briony whispers, “That doesn’t count.” I glance down to see her teeth chattering as she clings to me. Trembling between coughs, her eyes drift closed. I need to get her warmed up as soon as possible. “What? What doesn’t count, love?” “That—” Briony hoarsely grumbles. “That’s not our first kiss.” I shake my head as I look down at her, curled against my chest. She nearly died and she wants to joke around. “I agree,” I respond tightly as we reach the van. Opening the door with one hand, I stoop to climb in as I hold Briony in my other arm, and swing the door shut behind us. Sitting on the vinyl lounge sofa with her in my lap, I work quickly in the dim light coming through the tinted windows to remove her chef’s jacket, leaving her black tank top on. Wrapping her in a blanket I pull from the back of the sofa, I try to rub her dry. Now that I’m relieved she’s alive, I’m left with all of this adrenaline. “How could you just fall in when you know you can’t swim, Briony?” I quietly grumble. It’s completely unreasonable, but as the grave nature of the situation hits me, I’m shaky with fear. I could have lost her. “I’m from Brooklyn. I can do anything,” she deadpans with a shudder, her eyes still closed. She hasn’t stopped shivering, and before I can respond, she asks, “Are you, ok, Nick?” Reaching down, I pull off her boots and socks, and begin drying her feet. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I respond, my voice sounding rough to my own ears as I return to rubbing the warmth back into her arms. “You’re the one that fell in a lake knowing full well that you can’t swim!” The color is beginning to return to her blue lips, and they turn up at the corners as she lifts the blanket to wipe my face. At that moment, I feel the cold drops of water running from my hair down my neck. My wool pants are itchy, and my shirt is clinging to my back. I blink, in shock, as I realize I’m just as soaked as she is. “Blimey, that water was cold wasn’t it?” I manage to get out. This time, Briony’s dimples pop as she smiles. “You..you saved me.” “I guess that means you belong to me, now.” I stare back at her, suddenly feeling quite warm. And, when she doesn’t look away, I sway towards her. Bang! We look up sharply when the camper door is flung wide open, spilling the afternoon sunshine across our huddled figures. In steps Alfie, followed by the medic, who eagerly looks about the camper. “This here is Martin,” Alfie says, hooking a thumb toward the young red haired fellow in a green smock. “Glad you’re here, Martin.” I nod, shaking his hand. Martin nods, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bancroft, and…Mrs…Bancroft?” Briony coughs, and I frown as I rub her back. “This is Briony. She’s just had a rough go in the lake. We performed rescue breaths and, when she remained unresponsive, we also performed about three or four chest compressions before she revived.” Martin nods as he sits his physician bag on the table, pulling out a mini oxygen tank and a mask. “Right, well, let’s get you checked out, then…” He turns back toward us, but when he just stands there, I frown up at him as he begins rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll just need you to put her down, Mr. Bancroft.” All eyes swing to me as I blink at him. Briony nudges me. “Oh, right…of course,” I mutter, as I stand, placing her on the sofa. Stepping out of the way so Martin can get by, Alfie and I anxiously wait for him to begin. Martin puts an oxygen mask on her, and begins his examination, before turning to me and Alfie. “Would you two gentleman mind stepping outside?” “No problem,” Alfie replies, as I say, “I’m not going anywhere.” Alfie chuckles and excuses himself as Martin explains he needs to get her out of her wet clothes, and listen to her lungs. “I’m sorry, it’s a matter of propriety, Mr. Bancroft.” “Nick can stay,” Briony rasps, staring at her hands in her lap. Martin shrugs, and as he begins helping her remove her wet pants, I quickly turn towards the bed. I can still hear Martin questioning Briony as I take my dry clothes into the washroom, shuffle out of the ruined costume, setting it in the sink before quickly toweling off. Pulling on my white shorts and green knit polo, I fetch another towel and return to the lounge. Briony is already bundled in the blanket, so after wrapping her head in the towel, I step into the kitchenette to heat the kettle. After Martin finishes his examination, he exchanges the oxygen mask he put on her for a nose tube, and bandages her head. When he’s given final his instructions, we thank him as he steps out of the van where Alfie is anxiously waiting. “What’s the verdict?” Alfie asks, stepping back into the camper. I’ve shuffled Briony into a dry blanket, and as she’s now curled up on the sofa, I nod toward the bedroom. Alfie follows me inside. “Martin says she isn’t concussed, but she’ll have a nasty bruise for a few days. She may experience inflammation in her airways, but after a week of rest, keeping warm and staying hydrated, she should be fine. If there’s any shortness of breath or lingering headache, we should go to hospital to have her checked out. Otherwise, we can return the tank later. He also suggests she be monitored by a doctor, so, I’ll need you to have one meet us at the chalet.” Alfie nods as he pulls out his phone and begins dialing. Before I’ve pulled out a pair of joggers and a t-shirt from the under bed storage, he’s made the arrangements. “It’s a miracle you saw her when you did, Sir. I didn’t notice she was gone until I saw you dive off the pier. I’d hate to think…” Martin had said just as much when he examined Briony. Sickened by the thought, I pull out another towel and toss it on the bed beside the clothes. “Would you mind making a pot of tea for us, Alf?” I’m suddenly fatigued, and Alfie looks at me knowingly. “That was a pretty good scare, Sir. I’ll get that tea going right away. And, by the way, I spoke to James. He says that he’ll handle press and give you a call later. Andrew also says he’ll reach out later, and he hopes Briony makes a swift recovery. Is there anything else you need?” I stare unseeingly at the blue plaid wall paper. “After Briony showers and changes, if you wouldn’t mind driving her back, I’ll bring Doris back to the chalet.” “Sure thing,” Alfie nods, backing out of the room. Following him out to the lounge, I kneel next to Briony where she’s still laying on the sofa. “Do you think you can walk, love?” Briony’s brown eyes find mine as she opens her eyes. “I feel pretty weak, but I think I’ll make it.” Removing the oxygen tube, I offer her a hand up, but when she struggles to stand, I gather her in my arms, and carry her to the washroom. “Right, well, lets get you changed into some warm clothes.” Briony smiles wanly. “Why do I feel like I’ve worn more of your emergency clothes than you have?” “Because you’re clumsy, darling,” I quip. Briony’s laugh comes out in a fit of rusty coughs, the sound of it unwinding my nerves some. Once she’s settled in the washroom, I turn to pick up the pile of clothes and towels, settling them on the vanity. “Even if you aren’t able to shower, at least warm a towel with water and go over whatever you can reach. You can bathe back at the chalet, but you need to warm up as soon as possible. I’m just outside the door if you need help.” Briony coughs as she nods in thanks, and I close the door. I head into the lounge to wait, and as I sit at the table, my head begins to swim once again with ‘what ifs.’ I startle when Alfie places a steaming mug in front of me and takes a seat. “So, how are things going, Sir? Have you made any headway?” I sip my tea as I puzzle over his question. “Headway on what?” Alfie scowls at me. “I’ve still got two dates, April 4, or October 3. You try holding onto three different venues Easter weekend with just a deposit and see how easy it is. I’m going to need some definitive answers before we get back to New York.” I frown into my cup. “Alfie, do you think perhaps you should see a doctor now?” He grunts in response. “Are you telling me this isn’t something you want?” I shake my head at him in amazement. “What I want is irrelevant. Is this how you were married? Did you just tell Lily to show up at a specific date and time, then ambush her with a wedding?” I hear the shower cut off as Alfie responds, his dark eyes flashing. “Leave my Lily out of this. She was a wonderful woman, who didn’t require kidnapping. I knew after one date that she was meant to be my wife, and that was it. We were married within three months, and that was only because her parents insisted she finish nursing school.” This is the most Alfie has ever spoken about his wife, and my mouth drops open as my brows shoot up. “Three months you say?” Alfie’s gaze slips somewhere far away as he slowly nods. “She was the love of my life, and I miss her something awful.” I nod sadly. “I’m sorry, old chap. When did she pass away?” Alfie’s gaze sharpens on me. “Who said she died? She’s living it up in Ronkonkoma with her fourth husband. I don’t miss her, but I’ll shave my head bald before I give up my alimony checks.” My eyes widen in response, as I fall silent, not knowing how to respond. Alfie smirks as he catches my gaze, and suddenly I’m wondering whether any of it was true. “The point is, Nick, when you see a good thing, you jump on it. You don’t let it waste away. So, is it October or April?” I shake my head, trying to figure out what’s happening. “Neither. As you know, Evie’s due date is 31 March, so I’m afraid beginning three weeks prior to that date, there will be no traveling for her.” What am I saying? I frown. His delusions are obviously getting to me. Alfie pulls out his phone and scrolls as he says, “Hmm. It’ll be tight. We don’t get back from post production in L.A. until February 14. Oh! This could work…” A smile carves his face, his eyes widening. “I can move it to England on March 7. We’ll look at some places in the countryside, and I’ll have three options for you by this evening.” My brows slam down and before I can utter yet another protest, Briony steps into the lounge. “Options for what?” Leaping up to help her to the sofa, I respond as I slip the oxygen tube on her once again. “Alfie is working on his wedding project again, love. He seems eager to drag me into the details of his delusion,” I conclude, glaring at him. He laughs as Briony looks at him in surprise. “What details are you thinking about now?” Alfie gets up to pour her a cup of tea. “I’m thinking beginning of March, somewhere in the English countryside. I have a few places in mind, and since Nick is from there, I figured he’d have the inside scoop on which venues would be better.” Briony looks at me, her brows raised. “Oh, really? Can I see these places, too? I might be in London early, just to be sure I’m there for Evie. I’d love to be invited to this wedding…hey! Even if there isn’t a real wedding, maybe we should plan a party anyway! That would be so much fun!” Alfie looks at me with the largest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. “Well, Nick. What do you say? Should we plan this fancy party anyway?” I look back and forth between Briony’s expectant face and Alfie’s smug one, feeling as though I’ve joined Alice in her Wonderland. “Best idea ever, my love,” I say weakly. Briony unleashes one of her darling smiles as Alfie grins victoriously. “It still has to look like a wedding though. In fact, everyone can dress up like it’s the Kentucky Derby, and we’ll have all of our families come. We’ll make a week of it!” “Don’t you mean Ascot?” I frown as Briony claps her hands. “That’s brilliant! I’ll look into getting the plane tickets for that week, and surprise everyone with the news tonight!” She then gently tosses her head back with a groan. “I have to get a new phone first. My phone was in my pocket.” Alfie nods. “Don’t worry about the invitations and tickets. I’ll take care of everything, including lodging.” I’m blinking at Alfie in disbelief when Briony grabs my arm. “Isn’t this awesome, Nicky babe? It’ll be like one big family party! Oh! My parents can finally meet yours! They’ve always wanted to meet them since Mum and Dad are like my second parents.” She grins with so much affection, I can’t help but cave. I genuinely smile. “That will most certainly be something, my life.” I stand. “Now, after you have your tea, Alfie will drive you back to the chalet to get you in bed. A doctor is already on the way there. In the meantime, I’ll bring Doris back.” Leaning over, I drop a kiss on her forehead, and picking up my cap and jacket, I leave the camper in a daze. I have so much to think about, and at the forefront of that list, is how I’m going to convert a fake wedding into a real one. When I get back to the chalet, Briony is already in bed, fast asleep under a pile of blankets. The oxygen tank softly hisses beside the bed as a bag of saline hangs above her, dripping through an IV line. Alfie kept me informed regarding the doctor’s instructions, so I thank the doctor as she tips her grey head toward me before quietly leaving the room with a smile. After examining Briony, all that’s left to do is keep her hydrated and observe her through the night. I sit on the edge of Briony’s bed for a while just listening to her breathe. Unlike how still she was when Alfie pulled her from the water, she looks peaceful as she sleeps now, her gentle snores filling the room. She’s exhausted after her ordeal, and I should leave her to sleep, but I stretch out beside her, lightly running a finger across her brow. I can’t believe how close I came to losing her today. In the moment that she pulled in her first gasping breath, I knew that waiting until her contract was up before I begin pursuing her is off the table. Ready or not, now is the time to act. Yet, now that the time has come, I find it mildly terrifying. Am I rushing things? I’ve sensed her softening over the last few months, but what if she isn’t ready? What if it turns out, I’m not what she wants at all? As I pondered question after question on the way back to the chalet, I stopped at a mobile phone shop to replace her mobile. Yet, despite the cap I pulled low over my eyes, I was still recognized. So, in between dodging autographs and responding to frantic messages from Evie, who had seen the videos posted online, I managed to get out of the shop in under an hour. However, as I made my way down the street, I passed by a jewelers, and before I knew it, I had taken a detour. The visit didn’t take long, and as I left with my little bag, it dawned on me that if Evie had seen the news, perhaps Briony’s family had as well. They would no doubt be worried. Scrolling through my phone, I pulled up the emergency contact information I procured from Briony’s employee documents. Dialing the number for the first time, a sudden wave of nerves burst through me. “Hello?” A voice came over the line, at once, familiar and strange. “Hi, is this Wyn? Bronwyn?” I clarified. A sharp intake of breath, then, “Nick? Nicholas?” I smiled self-consciously. “Yes. I apologize for the late call. I wasn’t sure if you saw the news already, but I wanted to let y—” “Is Bri, ok? Can I talk to her?” Wyn interrupted, sounding just like Briony. “Yes, she’s alright. The medic staff has her resting for the remainder of the week. Her mobile phone died, and I’ve just gotten her a new one. I’m on my way back to her now, but as soon as she’s up to it, she’ll reach out.” “What happened?” Wyn exclaimed, relief bursting through every word. After explaining what took place, Wyn thanked me profusely. “Thank you for the call. I’ll let our parents know what’s happening, so please, let Bri rest up and tell her not to worry. Give me a call if anything changes, or if you need anything on our end.” “Of course, I will,” I replied. “Briony is family to me, I’d do anything for her.” There was a pregnant pause before Wyn pensively responded. “Based on what I saw in that video, I believe you would.” Sitting Briony’s new phone on her bedside table, I head into my suite for a hot shower. At the end of every production, she loves to make decorated theme cookies for the cast and crew which she gives away with the gifts I have made. For the last three days, Briony has been focused on her cookies as shooting winds down. Since tomorrow is the last day of shooting, there’s only tonight to get the decorated mountain cookies wrapped and boxed along with the little silver wing commander replica pins. Each pin is etched with the name of the series, Warmth Like the Sun, and Briony agreed they’d make fantastic mementos. With Briony on bed rest, I plan to get the boxes organized early. Thirty minutes later, after nuking my taste buds with toothpaste and mouthwash, I pull on a pair of shorts and a white cardigan before strolling out of my room, ready to get to work. To my surprise, every light is ablaze in the grey and cream great room, and an assembly line is already in progress. Briony is bundled in blankets on the sofa, still connected to her oxygen tank, hair bunched on top of her head in a mass of damp curls, while Alfie sits on the floor. He’s busy folding boxes and handing them to her, as she bags cookies and boxes them with the wing pins. “What are you doing out of bed?” I ask, crossing over to them. Alfie looks pointedly at Briony as she continues boxing. “I’m getting the boxes sorted for tomorrow.” I raise a brow. “And, how does this qualify as rest?” Briony raises a defiant chin as she looks down her nose at me. “What matters is that it gets done. I can rest afterward.” “Absolutely not,” I declare as I step between her and the table. Deftly scooping her in my arms, to her evident displeasure, I shift her closer to her oxygen tank and nearer to Alfie. “What are you doing, Nick?” She exclaims. I drop down beside her and pick up the box she was working on. “What does it look like? I’m boxing up the gifts.” Alfie’s eyes gleefully bounce between us as he continues making boxes. I casually glance over at Briony and smile when I see her open mouth. She briefly closes her eyes, and reopens them. “I thought you didn’t like making gift boxes.” I smile as I copy the pattern of the boxes she’s already made. “You’ve never asked, and I didn’t want to intrude since you get so much joy out of it. But, it’s about time some things changed. This seems as good a place to start as any.” Briony frowns. “What do you mean, ‘to start?’” Alfie stands as he puts together the last box. “I’ll just get dinner ready,” he announces before scuttling off to the kitchen. “Well?” Briony asks, tilting her head, her brows raised. “What do you mean?” I smile as I continue boxing. “Just what I said. Things are much different than they were before. For one thing, I can help with projects like this. I also know how to do dishes and wash pans. You can teach me how to cook, so it isn’t always on you.” Briony’s eyebrows have peaked near her hairline, and I start to wonder if it was too much to start with at first. Yet, when I look into her sparkling eyes, I know it’s long past the time to be straightforward. “Are you saying that you plan to do manual labor?” I scowl at her. “Har har, very funny. You know I’m perfectly capable of it.” Briony chuckles, delighted by this turn of events. “I know you’re able to do it. I’ve seen you do it at Mum and Dad’s on the occasional visit. What I mean is, do you plan to make a regular habit of this?” I roll my eyes as I continue stuffing boxes and closing them up. “Yes, I do.” “Why now? Suddenly realize you’d have to handle some things for yourself if something happened to me?” I turn to fully face her as I gaze at her intently. “My life, if something were to happen to you, do you think I could go on doing anything?” Briony regards me silently for a moment, then nods her head as she clears her throat. “This I have to see.” I smile smugly. “That sounds like a challenge, love.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe it is. I challenge you to learn at least one new recipe a week when you’re at home. And, when you come over for dinner, you help with the dishes.” Silently, I nod. “Done.” Briony sinks deeper into the cushions as she chuckles, curling her socked feet under my leg. “I could get used to this, Nick.” “You really should,” I say solemnly. “I’m hoping there will be a lot more moments like this.” She coughs a bit as she laughs. “What? Moments of convalescing after nearly killing myself?” I shake my head as I glance at her. “Moments where you get to relax and let me work for you, love.” When she doesn’t respond I turn to find her blinking back at me. I smile and wink as I return to my boxes. “Nick. All jokes aside, I work for you. I’m not sure it’s appro—” “This has nothing to do with that,” I quietly interject, turning to face her. “In a few weeks you won’t be working for me. What I’m hoping, is that you will take the time now to consider whether or not you’d like our friendship to become something more. Because I’m sure that I would, if you’ll have me.” My heart is drumming in my ears, but I don’t break eye contact, as I watch her process my statement. A lovely blush spreads across her cheeks as she gazes back at me, her large eyes wavering between surprise, a hint of fear, and maybe a bit of excitement. That could be my own delusion however, and when her long lashes sweep down over her cheeks as she looks down, I realize I’ve been holding my breath. “Why, sir, I do believe you’re flirting with me,” she quietly responds. I flash a smile. “I sure hope so, love. I’d hate to be unclear.” I’m a bit disappointed she’s reverted to humor, but I take courage in the fact it wasn’t an outright no. After a moment, I change direction. “Alfie is going to cook our meals for the rest of the week, so please don’t worry about anything besides recuperating.” Briony chuckles. “Always trying to keep a good woman down.” My eyes flash up to hers, but I don’t respond, even when her blush returns. She clears her throat. “I’d still like to come watch you shoot the final scene.” I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, love. It’s going to be windy and the last thing you need is to catch a chill.” Normally, Briony would scoff at me, and insist on going. So, I’m surprised when she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at me pleadingly. I groan as I pull my gaze away, focusing on my boxes. “Only if you promise to dress warmly, stay near the camper, and let the medic check on you throughout the day.” I can hear the smile in her voice when she responds. “Absolutely. Whatever you say, love.” A slow smile spreads across my face as I tease her. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me, Bri.” Her grin is devastating as she wriggles her toes beneath my leg. “I sure hope so, Nicky babe.” My breath catches in my throat as she giggles, my heart pounding away. I need to focus, and I won’t be able to if I continue gazing into her eyes. Ignoring the flutter low in my stomach, I rip my gaze away, releasing a frustrated breath as I run a hand through my hair. After quietly wrecking me, Briony doesn’t say another word, as she continues to watch me box gifts, a soft smile playing at her lips. 50 down, 50 to go… Feeling as if I’m going to explode, I take another deep breath, slowly letting it out. I’m a dead man.← Previous Chapter: Chapter 17 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 19Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 16 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 18Girl’s night comes and goes in a haze of spa treatments, delicious room service and Chinese dramas till 3am. Over breakfast the next morning, Evie finally tells me that she and Gene are expecting again. I’m so excited, I squeal as I jump up to hug her in the middle of that fancy hotel dining room. When she tells me her due date is March 31, I assure her I’ll be in London two weeks before so that I don’t miss the birth. I was there for both Braxton and Parker, and no matter what happens in the future, I’m going to be there for the next little one. At that point, we disappear into the shops and galleries, picking up a few gifts for the guys, and a couple of things for ourselves. No Rolexes were harmed in the course of the day, although, I did stand beside Evie, drooling over the rainbow watch when we saw it. Before we know it, we’re all checked out, and Philippe is whisking us back to the chalet. All is quiet when we walk inside, and Evie decides to go upstairs to nap since she’s tired. I’ll have to find the boys soon to make sure they keep it down. After dropping the bags in my room, I kick off my sandals and pad out to the back deck. Coming through the door, I immediately see Nick peacefully dozing on a deep chair in the shade of a large black and white striped umbrella. His feet are up on a little wooden table, a hand still holding his book open to the page he left off reading, while the other hand, wrapped around the bottom of his red t-shirt, rests on the exposed portion of his tanned stomach. At that moment, I’m moved with a certainty that there’s not a day in my life I won’t want him to be in it. Maybe, that’s all the certainty I need in order to move forward. Whatever that looks like for us, I’m going to accept it—accept him, just the way he comes. Feeling like a weight has lifted from my mind, I walk up behind him, and wrapping my arms around his neck, I drop a kiss on top of his head. Wow, does he smell good. His hands immediately come up to hold me in place, so I bring my head down to rest against his stubbled cheek. It’s why his next words come in so clearly, since they’re pretty much spoken in my ear. “Hmm. When did you get back, my life?” he says sleepily. My breath hitches as realization dawns. ‘My life,’ sounds like a term of endearment. Does he mean that I’m his life? I immediately dismiss the thought. I don’t know what it means, but that can’t be it. I mean..he’s been saying it for…months. “Just a few minutes ago. We got you something,” I whisper with a smile He gently rubs my arms, but doesn’t let go. “Do you mean to say you got me something besides this hug? Because, this hug is pretty amazing. I can’t imagine how you could possibly top this, love.” I smile, as I give him a squeeze then slowly rise before I do something ridiculous. Like kiss the man. “Nicky babe, ‘you mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling,’” I quote from one of our favorite movies in my knockoff English accent. Nick chuckles as he drops a kiss in the palm of my hand, his narrow blue gaze taking me in as he leans back in the chair, looking up at me with a lazy smile. “Cute words for someone who doesn’t know that I’m conquering galaxies in my dreams, just to attain something real, right here,” he murmurs Annnd, she’s dead folks! She’s no longer with us. Before I can catch my breath, Nick tugs on my hand until I’m standing beside him, but he still doesn’t let go. Instead, his blue eyes burn into mine as he rubs the back of my hand with his thumb. “How many layers of sleep must I fight through to get to the one where I wake up like this every day?” He whispers. My mouth goes dry as I realize I wasn’t dead before, because I just died. I’m now dead. Pity since I really need my words. I take a breath to tell him we can figure it out together, when a shout from the water, draws my attention. Braxton, Parker and Gene are all wildly waving at me from the water before the boys scramble to get out of the lake. Laughing, I wave back, and as the boys come running over, I look down at Nick who is still trying to incinerate me on the spot. Is there an award for smoldering? I’m pretty sure if he hasn’t won it before, he certainly could now. Licking my lips, I offer a shy smile, and give his hand a squeeze. “I don’t know, Nick…but I’ll wait until you surface.” “Cut!” When the cast finally breaks for lunch, everyone sighs in relief. It’s been two weeks since Evie, Gene and the boys left, so everyone involved with the production is eager to get through the last week of shooting. Tomorrow is the last day of filming, so the obligatory wrap party afterward will offer everyone a good chance to blow off steam. On Friday, while Alfie, Nick and I fly back to London for three weeks of post-production, Doris is off to New York. I don’t know how the motorcycle will be received in Nick’s quiet, mansion neighborhood, but that’s a worry for another day. When we arrive home during the second week of September, that will officially conclude my duties as private chef..but that’s also something I can think about tomorrow. Today, there’s only space for one worry, and it’s serious. Since I first began running lines with Nick, it’s the very thing that’s had my stomach twisted in knots—and not the good kind. That’s because today, they’re filming the one and only kiss scene in the whole show. A six hour miniseries, and there’s only one kiss? Depending on how satisfying the story is, it might work. Normally, an epic kiss could erase all the ill will such a production decision would generate. However, it is for the British public first, and, considering who is doing the kissing…I am now of the opinion, one kiss scene is one too many. That’s right. I said it. I feel a sudden kinship with the wives of actors, and, all I have are two words and a certain look in a man’s eyes. I can’t imagine the ogre I’d become when a ring and vows are involved. Whoa. Jumping the gun, much? I give myself a few gentle pats on the face as I head back to the van to get lunch plated. I need to pull myself together. After lunch, I’ll clean up, then hightail it out of here. They’re filming in one of the towns at the base of the mountain today. The lime plastered buildings have an aged, prewar feel, and sit next to Lake Geneva. I’m sure the director, Andrew, was happy with the location, because that scene takes place at the end of a land pier that extends into the lake. Between the mountains stretching around the lake, and the gorgeous clouds in the background, it will be delightfully scenic..perfectly picturesque. I think I’m going to be sick. A quick online search on how many takes to shoot a kiss scene doesn’t give me much hope for a one and done, and, by the time Nick and Alfie arrive, I can’t bring myself to eat. I’m guessing Alfie’s here for some kind of moral support, and not for help in pulling Amelia off of Nick later on, but one could hope. It doesn’t make sense that I’m feeling so…jealous isn’t the right word…territorial? That’s the word! Over the years, I’ve run lines with Nick for scenes that were not for the faint of heart. As long as I didn’t make eye contact, I was fine, and once you’ve been on a film set, the magic is gone. 15 to 20 sound, lighting and camera crew members standing around, watching a couple pretend to make out in 10 second snippets is about as sexy as watching a bird regurgitate food for its young. I’ve become friends with some of Nick’s female co-stars, and a few of them even get cherry coconut macaroons from me every year. This..is not that. Amelia has spent the entire production aggressively trying to attract Nick’s attention. While I give her credit for recognizing quality, her manner of pursuit borders on stalking and harassment. Despite multiple warnings from the AD, as we get closer to wrapping the production, she’s only become more desperate for the attention. Is it too late to pick up sling-shooting? “Briony?” I blink at Alfie, and look around for Nick. Has he gone already? When I hear Nick brushing his teeth in the little bathroom, bile actually rises in my throat. Ohh, I don’t think I can do this. “Briony, you, ok?” Alfie asks, his dark eyes full of concern. I smile wanly. “Yes. Yep. Of course. How are you?” Alfie smiles knowingly. “Never been better.” I close one eye as I tilt my head to look at him. “You know how to shoot a slingshot?” “A what?” He exclaims, his Brooklyn accent stronger than ever. I glance toward the bedroom and bathroom area where apparently someone is undergoing dental surgery for his next close up. I should have used more garlic. I roll my eyes, and catch Alfie looking at me with concern. Waving a dismissive hand, I stand up. “I’m going to head back to the chalet. I think I need to lay down.” Alfie frowns. “I don’t think you’re ok to ride Doris like this. Maybe you should nap here before heading back.” I raise my brows. “I’m not taking a nap on Nick’s bed.” “Why ever not? It’s devilishly comfortable,” Nick smirks from the doorway. As Nick approaches the table, dressed like a Swiss sheep farmer, Alfie narrows his eyes on my face. “She looks a bit off, Sir. I suggested she nap here instead of taking off on Doris.” Nick rests his cool hand on my forehead. “You aren’t warm. Have you been sleeping?” I pull his hand away. “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep much the past couple of nights.” Nick frowns. “I don’t think it’s a good idea you take Doris up the mountain like this. Why don’t you rest here? If you still seem off by the time I’m done, I’ll let Alfie take you back, and I’ll bring Doris home.” It sounds reasonable, but I’m just one big bundle of emotions today. To my own embarrassment, I begin tearing up. “I’m fine. Why can’t you just believe me, Nick? I knew how to make decisions before I met you, you know!” Alfie coughs and excuses himself out of the van. Seconds later, when the call goes out for cast, I’m still standing there staring Nick down. Nick claps his hands, and points at the door. As soon as I turn to look, he’s taken one of my hands in his and pulled me into hug. With the other hand, he rubs my back, skating his fingers up my neck into my hair at the base of my scalp. How can it be so calming, and yet so..electric? “Briony, my love. Please stay a while. Even if you don’t take a nap, please wait for me. Alright?” His eyes are gentle, and coupled with the concern I see there, I sorely want to make his day easier. “Ok, Nick. For you,” I sigh. He gives my cheek a squeeze. “That’s my girl. I’ll be back in no time.” And in a blink, he’s removed his warmth and bounded out of the van. “You’d think he can’t wait to get back to work,” I grumble aloud. After cleaning up from lunch, I wander into the small bedroom and try to lay down. Yet, despite the bed being perfectly comfortable, I’m restless and can’t seem to settle down. After a few minutes, I give up and decide to step outside for some air. Since it’s warmer here in town than up the mountain, I leave my bike jacket behind. Despite the breeze blowing off of the lake, my chef’s jacket should be more than warm enough. Inexplicably, when I step out of the camper that Alfie has parked beneath a stand of trees, I feel like turning around. We’re on a narrow street with the lake on one side, and old grey, pink, and yellow buildings on the other. This morning, the cast was shooting scenes in and around the buildings across the street. All that’s left to film today is the kissing scene on the pier which stretches into the lake in front of me. In the show, this is the point where Rafe has risked his life to go to town, hoping to find someone to help Annika work the farm. He’s planning to leave, but he hasn’t told her yet, so she doesn’t understand his insistence on getting more help, and follows him. When Annika realizes what he’s done, she’s furious he’s risking capture for her. They argue, and she storms to the end of the pier trying to calm down. He follows her, and ends up confessing his feelings to her. They kiss, and when he proposes to her, she accepts, and they turn to go home. However, his eye catches on the gaping hole in the mountain above them, where his crew died in the mission months before. He looks at Annika, in pain, knowing that he must leave her, then back at the mountain. That moment is supposed to capture his sadness and determination to go back to England. Then boom, end scene. There’s still a number of onlookers hanging around, but thankfully, there’s a little wooden dock that runs between the pier and street. I’m guessing there are usually small boats moored there, but the production team likely had it cleared out for filming. A few people have come and gone from here as filming proceeded, so it must be out of the camera’s sight line for most of the shots. Looking at the last minute bustle as the lighting crew moves around some equipment, and other crew members fuss with Nick and Amelia’s hair and makeup, I’m suddenly overpowered by the urge to see how the scene plays out. I should go back to the van and ignore it all, but as I look down the stone steps toward the wooden dock, I realize its empty. Before I can decide, the crew clears out, and filming resumes. As I watch Nick chase Amelia across the little street and down the tree lined pier, I’m once again struck by how easily he transforms himself. From the way he holds his head, to the placement of his hands, and the way he walks, he has completely become the Wing Commander. I have to see this. I jog down the short stone steps and step onto the wooden dock, only realizing it’s floating when it moves under me. Undeterred, I sit down cross legged to enjoy Nick’s performance. Which is pretty easy from my vantage point, as Amelia’s face is angled away from me, but I can see Nick’s face clearly. They do several takes leading up to the kiss, but when the drones go up and the camera angles are changed to shoot the actual kiss, Nick says something, and Amelia throws her head back in laughter. I narrow my eyes as she playfully smacks him in the arm, but just then, he looks directly at me…and winks! The nerve! I smirk as I shake my head. “Action!” Andrew calls, and suddenly, Rafe Edwards is back, pulling Annika into his arms and— Yeah…this water is so blue! It’s surprisingly clear, too. The mountains surrounding the lake are just gorgeous. —Now Rafe and Annika walk towards the street, his arm around her as he stares up at the mountain with pain in his eyes. It’s a look that’s meant to fill the audience with a sense of foreboding, and it hits the mark. They nail it in three takes, and when Andrew yells ‘cut’ the final time, Nick visibly sighs in relief. Andrew says something to which Amelia draws her hands up to her cheeks as she responds. Nick shakes his head, and after saying something that leaves Amelia looking after him, eyes widened in disbelief, he then starts toward the crowd before he’s stopped by Andrew. Somewhere between the second and third takes, a few clouds rolled in from the mountains behind us, bringing a fine mist with them. Even though it wasn’t enough to stop filming, my hair is starting to absorb the water. If I don’t want to deal with detangling later, I’d better go. I start to stand, but before I can get my foot solidly beneath me, it slips on a slick spot on the dock, and I stumble sideways. The dock pitches at that moment, rising up to meet my forward momentum, and a sharp pain shoots through my head and shoulder. I hear a shout as I fall into the lake. I’m too stunned to do anything at first, as I slide through the cold water. Then, I remember the swim lessons Nick forced on me this summer. Stay calm, look towards the light, and kick. I can see the light at the surface above me, and I’m trying to kick while flapping my arms, but, something isn’t right. My body isn’t fully responding to the commands I’m sending it, and my heavy boots drag me down further. As I fight to kick my legs and push away water as Nick taught me, my chest starts to burn, and my head throbs. A shadow passes above me as my limbs slow and things begin to go dark. Nick! I blink once, twice…then, darkness rises up to meet me…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 16 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 18Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 15 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 17“And would you believe there’s a medieval castle not far from here, that Byron allegedly visited? It’s said he carved his initials into a pillar in the dungeon,” I smirk, playfully rolling my eyes. “Oh, really?” Nick replies drolly. “Yep. If you want, we can visit when I get back. In fact, it’s the castle that inspired that poem about the prisoner. Um..” “Prisoner of Chillon,” Nick provides without looking up from his tablet. “Yes! That’s the one.” Normally news like this would thrill Nick. So, when he hums, and continues scrolling, my brows rise in suspicion. Looking at him askance, I continue to vent the eight personal chicken pot pies I have lined up on a sheet pan. Since his call time was much earlier than usual this morning, he got back around 2pm. After showering, he’s been perched at the kitchen island, while I’ve been prepping as many meals between dinner today and lunch tomorrow as possible. Well, that and trying not to get lost in the piercing blue eyes that are striking against the navy hoodie that he’s thrown on over a pair of shorts. Of course, he’s pushed the sleeves up over his forearms, and of course, his wavy hair is air drying. For the past three hours, I’ve been dying to ask him to go be beautiful somewhere else. Unfortunately, I lose the willpower every time I look up and find his intense gaze fastened on me. Which is why it’s so strange that all of a sudden, they seem to be glued to his tablet. “Don’t you want to quote your favorite lines? I won’t even make fun of him this time,” I tease. Nick’s eyes flick up to mine before dropping back to his tablet. “Georgie boy and I are on the outs. We have parted in ‘silence and tears,’ I’m afraid.” My eyes widen as I take in his slightly wrinkled brow and pursed lips. Putting the pies in the oven and setting a timer, I walk around the island, and hop onto the stool beside him. “What’s wrong, Nicky babe?” Nick spins to face me, determination glinting in his eyes. It’s as if he came out of a chrysalis under the stars last week, and he’s intent on showing me his new colors. “I’ve just come to a realization that Byron isn’t someone I want to spend time with anymore. I have other poetry, if you’re interested,” he grins, with a tug on one of my curls. “Would you like to hear the poem about silence in the grassy wood? Or perhaps some Neruda?” The mischief in his eyes gives me pause. I take the opportunity to compose myself as I take a sip from his glass of water. “Maybe when Evie and I get back from Lausanne.” “It will be worth the wait,” he winks, returning to his tablet. “What will be worth the wait?” Evie asks, bouncing down the stairs in a knee length emerald sundress, her overnight bag in tow. Nick looks up and frowns. “Evie, it’s just one night. Why does your bag look so heavy?” I raise a brow as I take in her medium sized bag. It’s definitely smaller than the purple tote I have sitting by the door. Then again, my bag is mostly full of snacks. Evie snorts. “It’s not heavy at all, darling. Just a pair of pajamas, my toiletry kit, a pair of heels and one teeny tiny dress for the club.” I laugh as Nick sits up, eyeing me and Evie. “What club?” “Péché Club,” I deadpan. “I’m not leaving Lausanne until I do something I’ve never done before!” “You’re going to a club named Sin?” Nick’s tablet falls from his hands, clattering on the island as he stares at me aghast. Evie reaches over and closes his mouth. “Don’t hurt him, darling,” she smiles at me as she pats Nick on the leg. “It’s girl’s night! Who knows what we’ll get up to,” I smirk. Nick scowls at me. “Please tell me that means staying up late and raiding the mini-bar…” As I start cleaning the kitchen, Evie giggles as she hops onto a bar stool beside him. “Nicky, you have no right to question what goes on during girl’s night. You were already pushing it by getting a car service.” Evie and I had no problem with taking Doris for the ride. After all, Lausanne is just under an hour away. Yet, Nick insisted showing up to the five star chateau in a private car would make for a far more relaxing trip. Even Gene agreed. So, when Evie swung those Bancroft baby blue eyes to me, I shrugged and told Nick to make sure the champagne would be included. That way Evie and I could get the party started early. A big joke since everyone knows I fall asleep after half a glass of wine. While I mix a salad and finish off the vegetable barley soup, I chuckle as Nick defends himself to Evie over his interference. When Evie suggests that he’s trying to take over again, he scoffs, reminding her that as the older brother, he’s merely ensuring our safety. They, then get into a hilarious show of one-upmanship, as they both try to prove who is more invested in my safety. I’ve just pulled the beautiful pot pies out of the oven when Evie goes for a TKO. “Well, Nick, you can believe that if you want. Maybe it will keep you warm tonight as you listen to some of the horror stories that Gene has waiting for you. I made sure to tell him to make them extra juicy.” Even I have to laugh at the look of abject horror in Nick’s eyes as his face pales, and his mouth works to produce a sound. Still, I can’t see Nick so miserable when he’ll have to fend for himself tonight as it is. “Nuh-uh, Evie. Don’t do that. If anything, you need to tell Gene to put his mortuary humor aside tonight. With us in Lausanne, if the boys have nightmares, who’s going to help them get back to sleep?” Evie purses her lips as she nods. “Touché. Fine, I’ll call off Gene…but that’s a big ask.” Nick’s eyes plead for mercy. “Name your price?” Evie’s laugh sounds evil, even to me. She holds out her open hand. “Black card.” Nick snorts, “Fine. But, only if Briony is the keeper of the card.” My brows shoot up as I shake my head. These two will never change. “Don’t drag me into this.” They both ignore me as Evie shakes her head, hands resting at her hips. “Are you kidding me? She can’t be the keeper. It’ll come back in the same condition in which it left! That defeats the whole purpose!” Nick is already pulling the card out of his wallet as he curls a finger at me. I’m shaking my head as I approach him. “No! Why am I being punished when I tried to save you? You know Evie’s going to harass me for every little thing. This trip is supposed to be fun, Nick!” He smiles indulgently as I trudge around the island. “Hold out your hand, love.” I hold out my hand, still protesting but fighting my own laughter. “Come on! You know what happened last time. We spent three hours in that Hermès store in Paris at a complete impasse, which you refused to tiebreak. If you ruin girl’s night because of this, you’re going to eat porridge for a week. Stop laughing, it’s not funny, Nick!” Nick tries to control his laughter as he drops the heavy card in my hand. “There’s no limit. Don’t worry about anything. Just have fun.” Evie whoops with joy as I stare up at Nick in shock. “What do you mean no limit? You’re going to let her get whatever she wants?” Nick closes my hand over the card with a grin. “I’m going to let you get whatever you want. And, if you happen to want to get whatever she wants, that’s your choice.” “Ha!” I scoff, folding my arms. “See if I care. If you don’t care, why should I? Don’t blame me when you have a million dollar credit card bill.” Evie cackles. “Perfect! Gene wouldn’t let me get it, but there’s this really pretty rainbow Rolex—” My head whips around to Evie, eyes narrowed on her face. “Don’t even start with me, Evie,” I growl. She and Nick burst into laughter as I throw up my hands. “Why am I always in the middle of things?” I grumble, fighting a smile through their guffaws. The sound of the van pulling up to the front of the chalet, has me unsnapping my chef’s jacket. “That’s probably Alfie and the boys. I’m officially off the clock, so I’m going to get ready. When I get back, I want to know what her budget is, and I don’t want to hear this unlimited nonsense.” After showering, I’m stepping back into the great room a bit later dressed in a simple black, v-neck jumpsuit with lacy cap sleeves. It’s been a few months since my last hair cut, so I make do by slicking back the sides and tossing the rest of my shoulder length curls over one shoulder. It’s an outfit I’ve worn before, so I don’t expect the reaction I’m greeted with. Parker runs up, wrapping his chubby arms around my legs as he grins at me. Gene starts clapping like the nerd he is, exclaiming, “There she is!” A bit over the top since my light makeup is nowhere near glam, but I thank them anyway. “You’re quite fit, Aunty Bri!” Braxton calls out. I laugh, wondering if a seven year old actually knows what that means, as he’s instantly hushed by Evie as she explains he should use terms like ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful.’ Alfie turns around and shoots me a thumbs up. “The car just got here. You two have a good time. Call me if youse need anything.” “Ok, thanks,” I respond, but, my eyes haven’t left Nick’s face as he takes his time, scanning me from head to toe. These silent appraisals have been going on for a few weeks now, but today— yeah. I don’t have time to deal with the flutter in my stomach. After dumping my chargers in my tote, I step into my strappy black stilettos and straighten up, nearly crashing into Nick when I do. He had approached so silently, I didn’t hear him. As he steadies me with a hand at my elbow, I chuckle as I thank him. “I don’t know when you became so light on your feet, but if you keep this up, I’ll have to get you a bell.” When he doesn’t let go, I glance at him to find his dilated gaze fixed on my face. When I gently try to extricate my arm from his frozen grasp, he mumbles, “You don’t smell like peaches today.” “I’m sorry?” I ask, raising a brow before it dawns on me that I used a different soap. “Oh!” I smile. “I finally got a chance to use that Désan gift set you gave me last year.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, running a hand haphazardly through his hair. “Ah, yes. It really does suit you.” My smile broadens as Evie comes over clapping her hands. “Ok, enough you two. There’s 364 other days in a year for this. Tonight is girl’s night! If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss our 6:30 spa appointment. And, neither of you will want to know me if I don’t get my massage!” “Momma needs her massage!” I chuckle. The vaguest sense of deja vu strikes me, and when I look at Nick, he’s gazing at me intently. Yet, when I raise my brows in response, he gives a little shake of his head, then stoops to pick up my tote. Opening the door, he places a hand at the small of my back and guides me outside to the waiting chauffeur. The tall, dark eyed driver gives me a once over, and I feel Nick draw closer as we approach. When the driver introduces himself in rapid French, I only catch that his name is Philippe, and he’ll take care of our trip. But, Nick responds in equally rapid French as he hands my bag over to Philippe. I hear Evie giggle from behind me, but the speed of their conversation rapidly outpaces my high school level French. As Philippe disappears to put our bags in the trunk, I finally get a look at the car, and clap a hand to my forehead. “A Rolls, Nick? This isn’t necessary!” Nick smiles at me indulgently as he ushers me toward the car. “Sure it is. You would show up to a five star resort in a rust bucket otherwise. Now, are you certain Gene and I can’t at the very least, accompany you there?” “Now, now. You’ll be just fine. Pot pies with the boys while y’all game into the night? I’d be jealous if I weren’t about to slip into the plushiest bathrobe in the world and have someone massage me feet.” Nick frowns as he looks away, grumbling, “You could have a foot massage here, anytime you’d like.” I give him a gentle pat on the stomach, and his sharp intake of breath isn’t lost on me. “Behave,” I murmur, with a flick of my eyes toward Gene, who happens to be kissing Evie like he’d like to expand their family. My gaze skitters away as I continue. “Gene shouldn’t be telling you any tales from the crypt tonight, so you may be able to have some fun before you pass out at 8 o’clock.” “Ha! I’m not that old, and believe me. I’m doing my absolute best to behave, my love,” he responds with a wink. “Now, let me know when you’ve arrived, and don’t talk to strangers.” He opens the backward facing door, as I quip, “Yes, Papi.” His eyes darken in response, but he has the last laugh when he pulls me into a tight hug, and softly gripping my chin, he kisses me on the jaw. My brain short-circuits, as he whispers in my ear, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Briony.” Then, pulling back before I can react, he practically throws me into the car. When the door shuts behind me, I’m in too much of a daze to notice anything beyond the cognac and black leather interior and giant screen in front of me. As we pull off, I turn to look back at Nick, who stands stoically next to Gene. My gaze stays glued to his shrinking form all through Philippe’s instructions, and it barely registers when he falls silent and YaSanaa starts crooning about dancing the night away. “Hey, puppy,” Evie quietly calls. I turn around, flashing an embarrassed smile as she bursts into laughter. “You know I’ve been waiting seven years to be able to say that to you!” Her eyes crinkle as she covers her mouth. I’m shaking my head as I buckle my seat belt. “You would,” I grumble, gazing out at the large deep green trees sprinkled amongst the rolling meadows we pass as we descend the mountain. “You knew I was right, though. Every time you got around Gene in those early days, you would be like a puppy, wagging it’s tail in happiness.” “Well, it’s your turn now, darling!” Evie leans across the console, and putting her hand under my jaw, she gently turns my head. Suddenly hitting me with sad puppy eyes, she grimaces. “‘I’m doing my best to behave, my love.’” Then, dropping her hand, she proceeds to crack up laughing, as I shake my head with a smile. She’s wiping tears from her eyes as she grins back at me. “If I didn’t see it with my own two eyes, I’d never believe it.” I dip my chin, still trying to clear my head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore myself.” Evie leans close, lowering her voice as she pats my knee. “Surely by now you can see that he loves you.” I rest an arm on the console, barely missing the glasses of champagne I failed to notice earlier. “I know there’s something, Evie. I’m just not sure he’s willing to do something about it. I could force the issue, and ask him. But, call me old fashioned, I want him to be sure and approach me if it’s what he wants.” Evie nods thoughtfully as pulls on one of my curls. I smile, thinking how alike she and her brother can be. “I guess he hasn’t managed to convince you that you’re what he wants?” She inquires. Thinking back over the last couple of weeks, I can’t say that’s true either. We’re a long way from the lighthearted friendship of a few months ago. Yet, I’m not sure we’re any closer to anything else. Still…that hug a moment ago was something. As Evie pushes a button to open her leg rest, I lean back. “I don’t know, Evie,” I whisper. “At times he feels light years away, and at others…” I sigh. “Sometimes I just wish I figured out where my heart was heading before it got here. I could have gotten off this ride earlier and saved myself the heartburn.” Evie chuckles. “You know, Bri, I honestly don’t think either of you could have found love any other way. You were both too focused on other things. You know it was Mum and Dad’s idea to set you two up?” My brows shoot up as I stare at her, dumbfounded. “When was this? And, why?” She chuckles. “Yes, darling. It was during our second quarter at school. You know you practically lived at our house. My parents fell in love with you instantly. It was incredible.” Smiling, I nod as I recall the many evenings and weekends spent chatting, or playing board games between coursework. In fact, it was in my third quarter that I finally I accepted their offer to move in. “It’s true. School felt so cutthroat, and who knew working in restaurants would be the same way. I was so grateful for the warmth of your family. I fell in love with y’all instantly.” Evie playfully smiles. “Well, the feeling was quite mutual, darling. So, much so, that Mum and Dad suggested getting you and Nicky together to see what would happen. At first I thought it was impossible. The age gap aside, you seemed quite different from each other. Yet, Mum insisted that you two were made for each other, and when Dad chimed in that you and Nick would balance each other out, I realized they were on to something.” Opening a packet of cashews from the console, she pops one in her mouth while I sit in stunned silence. “If you and Nick were made for each other like Mum and Dad suggested, then I would gain a sister, and I’d get to see my brother happy. If you weren’t, then maybe it would jumpstart both of you in the world of dating. One outcome was more appealing than another, but it was still a win. Didn’t hurt that Nick had his eye on you, either.” “So, wait,” I frown. “From the first day I met Nick? The three of y’all set us up? Did Nick know?” Evie grins. “Nick had no idea, which is why he behaved like a nutter. I only just recently confirmed he was instantly taken with you.” I nearly swallow my tongue as I sit up while trying to keep my voice down. “No way! That’s impossible! Evie! You were there…he treated me like an alien invader that he was obligated to show hospitality to. For years, at every family event and vacation that he came home for, he’d diplomatically entertain me, while looking at me like I was a new species. It wasn’t until I started working for him that he started warming up…” Evie is nodding with a wide smile on her face, but I’m skeptical. That was eight years ago. If what she’s saying is true, it means Nick felt that way the entire time. I would have noticed…right? “How did we get here?” I ask in a daze. Evie is still munching on her cashews, but her nose wrinkles at my question. “I can tell you exactly how you got here. The daft nerd quietly grows on you.” I smile as she giggles. I certainly couldn’t say that wasn’t true. Brushing off her hands, she reaches for a bottle of water. “His face card meant he never had a shortage of interest. Even as a young girl, I was amazed at how often he’d be stopped, whether he was collecting me from school, or if we were at a restaurant or on holiday somewhere. I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t ever excited for all the phone numbers that were pushed in his hands. In my young mind, it was great all of these girls wanted to be his friend.” Evie’s strawberry blonde ponytail bobs as she shakes her head with a sigh. “Nick didn’t seem to take an interest until drama school. I get the feeling he only wanted to add a bit of authenticity to his skill set, but at the time, I thought, if that’s what dating was like, I wanted no part of it.” This is all news to me, but it seems to align with the Nick that I know. Why would he worry about his dates’ feelings when he was doing it for experience? I roll my eyes, which causes Evie to laugh. “Don’t get me wrong! I can’t remember more than three or four of his so called ‘dates,’ but, blimey! They were brutal. He’d come home after each one looking like he’d been put through the wringer. I’d listen in the hallway as Mum and Dad had him spill the details. Not one date went beyond the first. It was always the same problem. They said he was either too quiet, too boring, or too passive.” My eyes widen in confusion. “Nick? He’s one of the least boring people I know!” Evie nods solemnly. “You know that now. But, remember how much you complained at first, that getting him to chat was harder than getting reparations for slavery?” We share a laugh as I concede the point. “Ok, fine…but like you said…he grows on you.” Evie smiles. “Exactly. Unfortunately, as soon as his dates discovered he wasn’t nearly as exciting to be around as the characters he played, or he didn’t live up to the expectations they had when they clapped eyes on him, they all flocked in different directions. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind at all, otherwise the hurt might have crippled him.” I nod in agreement. Despite not being the type to frequently stop and smell the roses, Nick can be deeply in tune with his emotions when he chooses to be. He earns his living from words, so to say that words matter to him, is an understatement. Evie loops her arm through mine with a smile. “It’s also why it’s a good thing that you two had time to learn how to appreciate one another. Now, you’re learning how to love one another in a new way. Sure, there are growing pains, but that happens with every great endeavor, and every relationship worth keeping.” I sigh heavily in a moment of clarity. “Why does that have to make so much sense? I already decided he’s someone I want to keep in my life, even if I didn’t know what that would look like. I guess that’s why it’s been such a struggle.” Evie slowly nods. “I know you didn’t need Nick to invest in another truck. You would have been fine without it.” She sits up to grip my shoulders so that I turn and face her. “So, let me ask you a question. And, be honest. Why did you really stay another year?” My mouth falls open at the suddenness of the question, and the answer that hits like thunder. “I—I guess I wasn’t ready to leave him.” Evie’s blue eyes pierce mine. “Then, why did you decide to leave this year? And mind you, I don’t want to hear any of your world domination schemes. Just the pure and simple truth.” I blink at her as I search for the answer. Why, after all this time, was I willing to leave behind my perfectly good cottage, to start a business that I could have continued to run from the same place? Why was I running? My mouth goes dry, and I can barely get the words out at first. “What’s that?” Evie asks, cupping a hand to her emerald bejeweled ear. “Because I knew,” I mutter with a bit more volume. I close my eyes. “I knew I had feelings for him. I knew it was going nowhere, and I guess I needed to put some distance between us, so that I could regroup. I thought moving would help me…move on in a way, while keeping all the meaningful parts of us.” I close my eyes, as she wraps her arms around me. We say nothing as Evie’s playlist switches to another dance song. Philippe probably thinks we’re both nuts, but as I sink into Evie’s hug, I don’t care. I’m just grateful for my friend. As she rubs my back she whispers, “I don’t know what you’ll do with this information, but whatever happens between you two, I’ll love you forever. So, don’t you dare run away from me.” I laugh as tears spring to my eyes. “I’m grateful for you, girl.” She chuckles, as we both wipe at our tears with a smile. I finally sit back and take her hand. “Evie? I’m so glad you snuck out of Cambridge to go to Le Cordon Bleu.” Evie snorts as she laughs. “I just wish that I knew my parents would make me go back!” I smirk. “Thank goodness for that. It looks like you’re still putting that psychology degree to good use, Doctor.” “If you can’t beat them…” Evie quips with a giggle. “Become a chef…then psychoanalyze them to death!” I retort, before we collapse in laughter. Wiping tears from my eyes, I straighten up. “Now, enough of all this boy talk. This is girl’s night! Let’s enjoy it!” I pick up the still fizzy glass of champagne nearest me, and taking a sip, I immediately grimace. “Ack! It’s sparkling apple cider!” I cry in disbelief. Evie sniffs hers and takes a sip. “I think someone’s overprotective brother pulled a fast one on us!” I narrow my eyes, suddenly filled with devilish glee. “What was it that you said you wanted, dear sister of mine? A Rolex…?” We burst into peals of laughter as we cruise down the highway dancing to Evie’s playlist, thoughts of Nick slipping to the back of my mind with each pulsing beat.← Previous Chapter: Chapter 15 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 17Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 14 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 16I groan as pleasure slides through me at Briony’s touch. I don’t know what magic she learned as a masseuse, but I soak it in as I try not to drool on my forearms. I would ask her to teach Alfie how to do this, but I’d rather wait on her eternally if that meant one more massage at her hands. Filming has proceeded on schedule, so we have a week off before we resume filming in August. I barely manage to convince Briony that we should take Doris down to Italy, and spend a few peaceful days at a lush villa on Lake Como. When we arrive and I tell her the chefs on site would cook for us, she looks at me skeptically and asks why she’s there. She laughs when I teasingly say there was no point in leaving the eye candy behind when she wouldn’t have anything else to do. Ever since the day on the deck, something has been easier between us. It’s as if Briony stopped resisting whatever we’re becoming. I’m thrilled, but I’m still taking it slowly for fear of scaring her off. We have an easy time down on the lake, taking a few boat and food tours. She even lets me hold her hand as we stroll around the colorful buildings in the little village of Varenna, and a couple of times, she’s the one to initiate it. Despite a few tabloid articles, it’s been relatively quiet. I know we need to have a conversation about it, and it likely has to be sooner rather than later, but with Briony being skittish, I decide to simply enjoy the moment. While I’m busy sticking to my diet, I watch Briony eat her fill of Italian food for the both of us. I would be jealous, but, I get to savor every flavor by watching her eat. Of course, eating out means having to sign quite a number of autographs, but, all in all, it’s quite the enjoyable time. We shed tears when it’s time to go back, but the stunning landscape, as we travel through the Alps to Switzerland, more than make up for any feelings of disappointment. Back in our chalet, it feels like Lake Como is another world away. I have no idea where Alfie has gotten off to. He only hinted he’d be back soon when I messaged him. He made quite a large amount of food for the three of us, so Briony suggested we give each other massages and do face masks after dinner. While I’m not a fan of face masks, as long as it meant getting one of her massages, I’d wear any mask she wants. She’s just finishing my massage when she tells me to flip onto my back so she can apply the face mask. When I roll over, I flush as her eyes travel over me, but she works at opening the packet she’d gotten from the makeup department. “You know, if you want to skip masks, we can play scrabble,” I suggest as she pulls the mask from the packet, dripping with serum. “Nuh-uh. We’re doing this. You’re going to have glowy cheeks since you’re going to be out in the wind tomorrow. You can’t be chapped when you go back to work on Monday.” Her words are barely registering as the excess serum drips on my bare chest when she slaps the mask on my face. After she aligns the holes, I peek out in time to see her squeezing the extra serum from the packet to smear it over my chest. “Um, Briony? What are you—” “Shhh,” she smiles. “No talking with a mask on. For the next twenty minutes, you’re going to stay still, and I’m going to finish what I started on your back.” What does she mean by—her warm hands sink into my chest, and I stiffen in shock. She’s going to give me a deep tissue massage…now? I have a true love/hate relationship with every pectoral deep massage I’ve ever received. Despite it leaving me looser, and feeling better overall, it usually hurts like the blazes. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, waiting for the torture to begin. But I’m surprised when I feel Briony’s hands gently rubbing the excess serum over my chest, neck, shoulder and over my biceps. “Relax, Nicky babe. It’ll be over soon.” I release the breath I’m holding which causes her to smile, but then starting with my neck, she begins working. Focusing on increasing the pressure and direction of the massage into the muscle, she works down into the shoulders and pecs. She’s a miracle worker. Finding a tender spot, she works until it begins to hurt, then she’ll roll my arm and work from a different angle. The entire time, I watch her. The way she purses her rosy lips when she finds something that needs work. The proud little smile that breaks out when she releases something, or does something that elicits a groan from me. I don’t know why I find myself drawn to it, until it hits me as she finishes with a scalp massage. Briony’s enjoying this. Like everything else she does, she takes pleasure in it. I close my eyes and groan as she works behind my ears. I already know if I look at her, she’ll be wearing that little smile, and I won’t be able to keep myself from snatching this mask off and kissing her. I exhale, willing the feeling to pass as her fingers continue trying to coax every last bit of pleasure from me. I’m going insane. That’s it. I’m banning myself. No more massages until we’ve had the conversation, and agree that this is only ending in marriage. I’m not strong enough for this. I open my mouth to tell her so, when a cool breeze blows across my chest. “So, this is what you get up to on a Thursday evening!” My head jerks up as I try to focus on the small group of people clustered near the front door. “Evie!” Briony squeals. Jumping up, she drops my glasses on my chest as she bounds over to my sister and her family. Sitting up, I snatch off the mask and put my glasses on. Just in time to see the knowing look on Evie’s face, before she’s wrapped up in one of Briony’s hugs. Despite having Briony beat by several inches, Evie nearly falls backward from the force of the hug. The shouts of “Aunty Bri! Aunty Bri!” from my nephews, quickly turn into shouts of “Uncle Nick! Uncle Nick!” when I stand up. The next thing I know, two bundles of energy are hurtling toward me as Braxton and Parker slam into me. “How are you, my darlings?” I affectionately ask, picking them up as they squeal in laughter. “Sir, I already prepped the rooms upstairs,” Alfie smirks on his way past me with a load of luggage. I nod as I focus on the two monkeys sliding down my arms, to chase after Uncle Alfie. I’ll have to chat with Alfie later. If he ruins another moment, he’s fired. Evie comes over, and starts to hug me, but abruptly steps back with a grimace. “I would hug you, but I don’t want whatever you have all over you to end up on me.” I teasingly reach for her and she shrieks as she backs away. “Don’t even dream it, Nicky!” “What?” I step closer, innocently declaring, “It’s just serum from a face mask.” Evie laughs, holding up a hand as she continues to back away. “Ah! I can see that now. Thanks for clearing that up!” My brother in-law, Eugene steps forward then, to grip my hand. A short, square man, he’s the only person I know who continues to wear a waistcoat in the summer. At least it’s worn over a short sleeved shirt this time. “Gene,” I greet him, as he says, “Nick.” “How are things at the mortuary?” I ask, as usual. “A little quiet, but fine otherwise. And, how’s show business?” He duly inquires on cue. I smile thinly, knowing what comes next. “It continues to live up to its name, I suppose,” I quip, beating him to his own joke. Gene smiles broadly as he uses a handkerchief to mop at the sweat beading on his balding head. “Well, as long as you keep them dying laughing, I’ll always have a job!” He then laughs loudly at his own joke as Evie looks at me with a smile. She knows how little I care for that joke since I’m decidedly not a comedian, but she stares me down until I smile wanly. “Funny, Gene. It never gets old,” I reply dryly, as I look around for my t-shirt. Briony hands it to me, and pulling it over my head, I offer a smile as we all take a seat on the sofas. Gene loudly brays, “Excellent! That’s how you know a joke will never die!” Even Briony joins in laughing at that one. “Good one, Gene. You must have been studying that joke book I sent you.” I look over at Briony in surprise as she offers drinks. Gene automatically accepts the offer of a glass of wine, while Evie accepts a soft drink. Briony brings me a cup of tea, and as the smell of ginger wafts up, I smile gratefully as she settles into the seat beside me. Gene isn’t really a bad sort. He just enjoys speaking about nauseating things. As he transitions from talking about their trip down to see us to the week he had in great detail, I sip at my tea and hope it will be enough to fight off the queasiness. Evie ignores my attempt to catch her eye as she lovingly gazes at her husband. So, when Gene goes into a particularly gruesome explanation about flushing a corpse’s bowels, I roll my neck to look at the clock on the wall. Another five minutes and I’m going to disappear into my room. Briony catches my eye, and we have a whole silent conversation. Be nice! She says with a purse of her lips and widening of eyes. What? I’m always nice! I respond, drawing my brows together with a shrug of my shoulders. Act like you care, she insists, swinging her neck in my direction and giving me a blinking side eye. I do care, I just don’t get the man. Ask other questions. Like what? He thoroughly covered embalming fluid several years ago. I’m afraid I couldn’t stomach another round of it. Har har. “Just ask him about his hobbies. He loves pickleball,” she finally whispers under her breath. My head snaps back in surprise. “Really?” She’s tuned back in on some discussion about toes, but nods imperceptibly in response. “Speaking of toes,” I interject, barely swallowing back the bile that rises at the thought. “I hear so much of the game of pickleball depends on the balance that a player can maintain on their toes. Is that true?” Gene blinks at me for a moment, and I think he’s about to ignore me, when he smiles, his big square teeth glinting in the light of the chandelier overhead. “It’s funny that you should mention that, Nick. I’ve just picked up the sport after a few of my colleagues suggested I join them over our lunch break a couple of months ago. Smashing good sport! You’ll be happy to know that if you’re able to balance on your toes for long periods of time…” As he happily goes on about the sport, Briony nudges me, and I nudge her back with a smile. Where would I be without her? I blink against the sun as I sleepily lean up on my beach towel. I’ve dozed long enough that the shade of the tree has moved, and without a cloud in the sky, the gentle breeze whispering over the lake is doing nothing to cool me down. “Welcome back, geezer,” Evie’s voice teases from behind me. I turn to see her relaxing in the chair Briony had set up behind me before I dozed off. Quickly scanning the small beach, I spot her two piece blue and white gingham bathing costume from several meters away on an outcropping of rock. Putting my glasses on, I see the boys’ sandy blond heads excitedly bobbing beside her as she stoops to examine something. I frown, not taking my eyes off of Briony. “If she slips and falls into the water, then—” “She’s fine, Nick,” Evie interjects. “My back began hurting, so Briony offered to watch the boys a while. They know not to go into the water without their floaties.” “Where’s your hus— where’s Gene?” I ask. I promised Briony I would really try to treat him like family. He’s a few years younger than me, but one look at his short, stooped frame, and blonde fringe of hair encircling his bald pate, and anyone would think he was older. Yet, despite our lack of common ground, he’s a good man, and I’ve never doubted the care with which he treats Evie and the boys. Evie hums. “He had a bit of a headache, so Alfie took him back to the chalet for a quick lie down. That was a half hour ago, so they should be back soon.” I nod, leaning back on my elbows to watch Briony throw her head back in laughter at the boys’ antics. They’re also laughing as they jump around her. I can’t hear their conversation, but their laughter makes me smile. “So, what are you doing out here, Nick?” I clear my throat. “What does it look like, Evie? I’m working.” “Right. As for the other thing?” “You’ll have to use your words, Evie dear…” My eyes follow Briony as she holds something up for the boys to see. When she skims it across the lake getting several skips out of it, I’m so proud, I put my fingers to my lips and whistle. When she looks over at me I pump a fist in the air and she does a little celebration dance, before bending to help Braxton and Parker try to skip their stones. I chuckle. “You two are ridiculous. Just get married already!” Evie sighs, shifting in her seat behind me. I groan. “Just what do you think I’m trying to do here, Evie? Our girl is a tough nut to crack. Why do you think that is?” Evie pauses. “I think it’s fear.” My brows shoot up. “What would she have to be afraid of?” Evie sighs. “Herself? She’s so afraid of mishandling this, she’s forced herself in a bit of limbo. If she goes with her heart, she’s worried she’ll lose us. If she does nothing, she’s still worried she’ll lose us. A ‘catch-22’ I believe is the way she put it.” I silently take in this information as I watch Briony and the boys continue to skip stones. “This one’s on me, isn’t it…” I finally say. “In what way?” Evie counters. My jaw works as I try to control the sudden rush of pain and disappointment. “For asking for more than she can give…for wanting something beyond my reach. There’s a reason I’ve been single this long isn’t it? Perhaps I should focus on remaining that way.” Evie doesn’t respond, and I don’t look back until I feel her hand on my shoulder. “There isn’t anything wrong with you wanting more out of life, or something different. Even if you were 60 or 80, and you decided you wanted something different, it isn’t too late to change. Nor is it wrong to desire it.” I swallow thickly around the emotion welling in my throat. “If anything, Nicky,” Evie continues, “you should be happy that you discovered someone you’re willing to change things up for. And, miracle of miracles, she wants you as much as you want her. You both just have to figure out how to make it happen.” I breathe through the prick of tears at the back of my eyes. It is a miracle. “Waiting and watching apparently isn’t the right communication style for you two,” Evie goes on. “If it were, neither of you would have allowed five years to go by.” Surprised, I twist to look at her over my shoulder. “Do you think it’s been that long?” Evie smiles gently. “If not longer for you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you loved her from the moment you met her.” “A likely story,” I scoff, with a disapproving chuckle. Yet, as I turn back around, my eyes searching for Briony, I watch as she celebrates with the boys when Parker finally skips a stone. It’s typical Briony. She’s always been so open, loving and bright. Blimey..could Evie be right? “It was raining that day,” Evie begins, without introduction. “You were antsy and ready to leave, because you hate meeting new people. Briony’s class had ended late, and she’d been delayed on the Tube. I remember being quite cross with you, because she was traveling half way over London in the rain, just because you were in town for the day.” “It was the end of March, and it was raining cats and dogs,” I smile. “That’s right. When the clock struck six, you clapped your hands on your thighs, said, ‘Right, best be getting on.’ And despite, Mum, Dad and I protesting, you marched down the stairs. I’d chased you up, because I couldn’t believe you would embarrass me in front of my friend, although I really should have known better.” I chuckle, as I remember the fire in Evie’s eyes. “To be fair she was over two hours late. Besides, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why the three of you were so adamant that I meet your friend. It made no sense to me.” Evie chuckles behind me. “You made it down the stairs, had your coat on, brolly in hand, and when you threw open the door, there stood Briony, soaked to the bone. Yet, you stood there like a dolt, just staring at her!” Shaking my head, I smile at the memory. I’d been working for twelve years at that point, had been recognizable for eight of them, and an actual, ‘can’t ride the Tube anymore’ celebrity for six years. I’d seen and worked with more than my fair share of beautiful women in that time. I’d also turned down more offers of companionship than any man had a right to. Yet, when I’d seen 21 year old Briony standing on the doorstep, as rivulets of water ran from her curly top knot into her face, I was shaken. And, when she blinked those large brown eyes at me, a smile slowly spreading across her rosy lips…I’d been completely mesmerized. Despite standing in the pouring rain, Briony had stuck out her hand with the warmest smile I’d ever seen, and said, “I’m so sorry I’m late. It’s so nice to meet you, Nick!” I’d frowned at hearing Nick, but my gaze was stuck on her tiny hand, which was still extended to me, dripping wet. I was wondering how someone’s hand could be so perfectly little, when Evie erupted behind me. “Don’t just stand there! Invite her in!” I took Briony’s hand then, and tugged her inside. “I was merely surprised to see someone at the door. My apologies, you must be Briony. Please, call me Nicholas.” Startled by the buzz that went through my hand as I touched hers, I promptly dropped it and wiped my hand on my trousers. It didn’t kill the buzz, but when I caught Briony looking at me, with amusement in her eyes, I’d pursed my lips in embarrassment. As Evie slaps me in the shoulder, I’m brought back to the present. In the distance, Parker and Briony are cheering Braxton after he skipped a stone. “Hey, careful. That’s a bajillion dollar shoulder,” I scold. Evie scoffs, “Why? Because your precious Briony gave you one of her world class massages a couple of nights ago?” I run a hand over my chest as the memory assaults me. “Never mind that. What’s your point in bringing up something from eight years ago?” “You already know, Nicky. Even if she felt you couldn’t stand her because of how rude you were, I know what I saw that day.” I turn the full way round to face Evie, as I’m flooded with shock. “I was flustered! Why would she think I didn’t like her?” Evie smirked. “You scowled at her hand, then immediately wiped your hand on your trousers after touching her.” My mouth drops open. She can’t be serious. “I was admiring her hand, and I wasn’t wiping my hand, there was just this weird zap when I touched her, like static electricity… at any rate, I didn’t dislike her when we met.” Evie’s red ponytail bounces as she nods in agreement. “Oh, I know it, because not only did you turn back round and stay the rest of the evening, you stared at her anytime you thought you wouldn’t get caught.” My ears warm over as I recall the furtive glances I had cast Briony’s way while she chatted away throughout the evening. I remember being impressed that the subjects were neither shallow or boring. She’d not been afraid to disagree with me, nor to enthusiastically support me when she felt I was being ‘ganged up on’ by my family. I sigh, letting go of any last reservations I have about sharing my feelings with my little sister. “Briony fascinated me. She was just so real, Evie. She still is,” I remark, smiling as I watch Briony kiss Parker’s finger. He immediately stops crying as she says something and gives him a hug. I imagine she’ll be the same with our children. I’m surprised the thought doesn’t surprise me as I continue. “She doesn’t put on airs, or pretend she’s something she isn’t. She treats everyone with the same grace and kindness, whether it’s a busboy or a celebrity.” I shake my head as I look back at Evie. “I’ve been in this business most of my life at this point, and I can tell you, people like Briony are rare. So, yes, I might have been a bit gobsmacked when I met her. I immediately understood how you became such fast friends, although you’d only known her for several months at that point.” Evie nods, tugging the band off her ponytail, letting her copper hair spill over her shoulders. “To know her is to love her.” I’m nodding in agreement when I catch the mischievous look on her face, and realization dawns like a swift kick in the chest. “No! You can’t be serious, Evie. Was that meant to be—” “A blind date?” Evie snickers as I scowl. “No. It was a triple blind date! Neither of you realized you were being set up.” I take one look at my beautiful little sister, and begin laughing hysterically. “Well, maybe you’ll let the people involved know next time!” Evie rolls her eyes, picking lint off of her black and white swim costume. “Why should I? I think it’s been a bit of a long road, but you two have been traveling it together, until recently.” I clear my throat as I glance back at her. “If I had known—” “You would have sabotaged it,” she interjects with a smirk. When I frown, she holds up a hand to silence me. “You’re my big brother, and I love you to bits, but you’ve got your head on the wrong way round when it comes to romance. Do you know how many broken hearted women I’ve seen trailing behind you over the years? Perfectly fine women, who limped after you waiting to be noticed, despite doing everything short of setting off a fireworks display to get your attention.” I shrug abashedly. “So, maybe I’m a bit oblivious sometimes…” “Sometimes?” Evie exclaims, blinking at me disbelievingly. “I think you’d have forgotten the names of your female teachers if their names weren’t written on the blackboards! And, you think I was going to feed my best friend to you, like more chum in the water? Absolutely not! Thankfully, both of you are equally oblivious people. You think there weren’t men in our classes who didn’t try to stealthily approach Briony? Offer to teach her how to ‘use her knives?’” I scowl in response, instantly reminded of her former boss, but I say nothing as Evie shakes her head with a smirk. “Every single time, she’d turn them down, then complain she had no one to go with to yet another food fair, and drag me with her.” She sits forward, a look of pure disgust on her face as she dramatically whispers, “I’ve tasted things I’ve had no desire to be acquainted with, because Briony didn’t get that there were men willing to explore with her, grow with her, and wait for her, as long as it took her to conquer the world.” My lips purse as I lift a brow in commiseration. I’ve certainly eaten a thing or two over the years that I’ve no desire to revisit. Evie chuckles as she looks down at me. “Now, look at you two. Mr. And Mrs. Oblivious. With very little effort, you two have bonded to one another for life. Existing side by side, feeding each other snack sized bites of love, taking what you can get, because you’re both too inexperienced, and afraid to ask for more. If Alfie and I left you to your own devices, it would be a hundred years until you both realized you could have banqueted the whole time.” I stare at my little sister with new eyes. “You’re an evil genius.” Evie smirks in return. “You think so?” When she waves me closer, I scoot over to her as she leans down and whispers, “Either the wedding happens before mid-March, or you’ll be having a destination wedding in England. I haven’t told Gene, yet, and I’m only telling you because I won’t be able to travel after that.” Sitting back in shock, I blink as I take in her flat belly and look back at her. “Are you—you’re pregnant?” “Shhh!” She waves at me as she smiles, looking around furtively. “A month, or there about.” “Congratulations, Evie!” I smile. “Still trying to get another girl in the family I see.” Evie shoves me with her foot. “At the rate you’re going, I’ll probably get one in before you do! So, now that you know, that gives you a deadline. If you want this, don’t hold back. You just have to convince Briony your love is worth the leap of faith, because it’s for a lifetime.” “Yes, but how do I do that?” I earnestly ask. “Every step I take seems to carry us two steps back.” Evie smiles. “Maybe start showing up for her in more permanent ways? I know you plan to invest in her business, but how have you personally invested your time and interest in it? Think practically. You’ve known Briony eight years, but not once have I heard that you visited with her family.” My mind races as I realize Evie’s right. How did I not realize it could be a problem for someone as family oriented as Briony? Evie gently continues. “How’s a woman going to believe that you’re serious about her, if you don’t show an invested interest in the things and people she cares about? Have you ever given her any reason to believe that you view her differently than every other woman she’s seen you dismiss?” I frown as I look at the ground. “Did she mention this to you?” Evie snorts. “Briony is too busy worrying about her food truck, and breaking up with you before you’ve even begun. She may not know why, but I’m sure she feels it. If you think like Briony, you may be able to allay her fears, whether she can identify them, or not.” I run a hand through my hair as I wrap an arm around my knee. “Think like Briony? Impossible. I plan to spend the rest of my life figuring the woman out. She’s..” My voice trails off as I think of my wife. Dynamic? Intelligent? Deliciously attractive? Far superior to me in every way? I turn back to see Briony take the boys by their hands, and start back toward us. “I’m going to stop you right there,” Evie’s voice startles me out of my thoughts. “I didn’t say to think about Briony, but think like Briony. Her actual thinking process. After you figure that out, you may be able to figure out how to overcome her biggest hurdle.” “Which is?” I ask. Evie smirks. “I should think it would be obvious. It’s herself.” As the group draws near, the boys break away and start running towards us. But, I only have eyes for the lovely woman with the sunny smile, and mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’s about time anyway,” Evie murmurs. “What is?” I absentmindedly ask, standing to intercept the group. I only vaguely hear Evie’s response, as the boys run up to me. “That there’s a woman you have to work to keep around…” As I pad through the grass after dinner, listening to the sounds of laughter coming from the chalet, the strongest wave of loneliness washes over me. It’s been so long since I last felt it, that it’s nearly unrecognizable when it hits. I love family visits, but I always miss the alone time with Briony. How will I cope when she leaves? Will she be alright? Walking down to the shore of the lake, I sit against my favorite tree as I try to sort my thoughts. After spending nearly the whole afternoon pondering Briony’s way of thinking, the only thing I could figure out is that where I zoom out, she tends to zoom in. As a micro thinker, she very much lives in the moment. She’s fine when focusing on the tasks in front of her, but she gets disoriented taking in the bigger picture. It’s the reason why she can have a near spiritual experience with a bowl of ice cream, yet have an existential crisis because she misplaced three years of her life trying to accomplish all her tasks on the way to world domination. If it weren’t for Bronwyn’s help, I’m not sure she would get her food truck off the ground so quickly. Meanwhile, I’m a macro thinker. I not in the moment nearly enough, because I’m always so concerned with the big picture. It’s the reason why I have to learn how to sit and savor something I love, like mashed potatoes. It’s also the reason I struggle with taking the risk to do something I’d love…like taking a break from films to do theater, because it doesn’t fit in line with what I think I should be doing. I sit up, as my heart rapidly beats in my chest. Could it really be that simple? Does Briony think I live my life afraid to commit to things that are meaningful to me, no matter the cost? Am I asking her to take a leap of faith, when I refuse to budge from the ledge myself? I grip my hair, horrified by the thought as I stare out at the winking starlight reflecting on the dark lake. To Briony, am I someone that would rather let a fantastic opportunity go because it doesn’t fit in with my plans? Would I rather give up relationships, than make room because I don’t know how to demonstrate my affection? And if presented with the perfect opportunity, will I just, not choose, to avoid a decision? A breath freezes in my chest as I remember something Briony said when we visited Newstead Abbey. She had accused Byron of never truly coming to know love. And, how did she put it? I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to remember. ‘Just do me a favor, and don’t love me the way Byron loved. Constantly reaching for love, and never having the fortitude to close his hand when it’s within his grasp.’ Am I not the same man who declared I wanted to be real friends, and in the next breath said she was like my sister? I asked her to leap, but when did I ever offer her a secure and permanent place to land? I exhale a ragged breath as I realize how close Briony was to the truth. That’s exactly what I’ve done. For eight years, I’ve given only what I wanted to give, and taken only what I wanted to take. And, as soon as Briony said enough, I panicked. My hand closes over my mouth as a sudden well of emotion rises in my throat. I must have been a boy the last time I shed true tears. Likely, when Grandad died. And now, I’m sitting alone under the carpet of a thousand stars in the inky black sky fighting to hold back tears. I would give Briony anything, and yet, I’ve given her nothing. Not a reason, a declaration, or a hope. I don’t know who’s listening, but I vow then and there, that if I’m blessed to have Briony grace my life as my wife, then I will change, and do whatever needs doing to be worthy of her love. I don’t know how much time has gone by when I hear the first crunch of footsteps. It’s a cooler night than usual, and without the moon to guide them, I’m grateful not many of the holiday goers are walking about. I’m sure I don’t want to sign autographs. Yet, despite some hesitance, there’s a familiar cadence to the steps. And when the scent of sweet tea and peaches tickle my nose, I know she’s nearby. “I thought you’d never come,” my voice comes out husky from the tears I’d shed earlier. “Nick?” Briony’s voice comes from over my left shoulder. “I’m here,” I respond. Out of my periphery, I see Briony approaching in one of her long flowery button down summer dresses. Even without my glasses on, I can see she’s carrying a mug and… “Is that a blanket?” Briony’s curly hair swishes as she nods. “Yeah. I thought you might be cold out here by yourself. I also brought you some tea.” The blanket hits me in the lap. I hadn’t realized the chill in the air until I felt the warmth of the blanket over my cold hands. “Thanks, Bri.” Opening the blanket, I pull it around me, and, as the mug of tea hovers in front of my face, I realize Briony has no intention of staying. I accept the mug, and the fleeting warmth from the brush of her fingertips goes as quickly as it had come. Grass crunches underfoot as she turns to leave. “Briony,” I call out. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t move either. The moment feels significant, although I have no idea why. I just know in some elemental way, the words I choose now will have a bearing on our future. I take a deep breath. “When we first arrived, you said you wanted to go stargazing. I’m sorry that I’m late in asking, but I would love it if you stayed with me. Are you willing…to stay?” Several heartbeats pass before I feel Briony sink down into the grass beside me. Wrapped in the blanket, I extend an arm behind her. “I’m fine if you’d like to come closer, Bri. We can share.” There’s only a brief hesitation, before she scoots closer, and I lower my arm to draw her in close beneath the blanket. “Is this..alright, love?” I haltingly ask. “Yes, thanks,” comes the reply, but a shiver goes through her. Putting the mug of tea in her hands, I sense rather than see her surprise. “I brought this for you.” “I know,” I smile. “But it seems like you need it more, so I’m sharing it with you.” Briony hesitates, but as she begins sipping from it, I notice the moment she begins to melt against my side. “It’s breathtaking,” she whispers. I look down, barely able to make out her little face and the curve of her jaw in the darkness, but I know she’s smiling. “Indeed,” I say softly. “I’m so glad you recommended we do this. Thank you.” After a few minutes sitting bundled under the warmth of the blanket and new intentions, I exhale. “Briony, I have three questions for you. If you could vacation anywhere in the world, and money and time were no object, where would you go?” Briony doesn’t answer for a while. Then, “I’ll answer these with the understanding there are no follow up questions, and you owe me the answer to three questions in the future.” “Alright, I accept,” I nod solemnly. “Ok, hmm. If money and time were no object, I’d want to go home. I travel enough for work. Being at home is my luxury. Maybe one day I’ll feel differently, but today, that’s the answer.” I startle at the thought that she would go back to her little cottage, with unlimited resources, but it fits Briony’s character and how she thinks. What greater luxury could there be than being at home because you desire to be? I nod. “Alright, question two. If you were stranded on a desert island, and could bring only one person and one tool, who and what would it be?” After a moment’s hesitation, Briony rests her head against my shoulder. “That’s easy. I’d pick you, and a shovel.” My brows shoot up at how quickly she admitted that. “I’d pick you because Evie has children to raise, because my parents don’t deserve to lose both daughters at once, and…because I don’t know that I can go a full day without talking to you. And, I’d pick a shovel, because I know you’d choose a knife.” My heart thrills at that, but I don’t celebrate yet. “Alright, my Life. Question three. Would it be ok if we invited your parents and sister over for dinner when we get home?” Briony’s head swings over to face me. “I didn’t realize you wanted to—of course, that’s fine with me. I’ll even invite Alfie, Antonio and Francesca.” I shake my head. “Respectfully, I’d prefer if, at least for the first invite, that it be just your parents and Bronwyn. I’m ashamed that it took me this long..I don’t want to have my attention split between other guests the first time we meet, even if they’re also family.” Briony sharply inhales. “Why are you interested in meeting my family now?” “Hm. Because now that I know better, I’ll do better.” I can feel her looking at me before she settles back against my shoulder, and as we gaze at the endless carpet of stars, the chirp of crickets sounding in the night, I realize how insignificant we are. After a while, Briony asks, “Are you, Ok, Nick?” My breath catches, and not wanting to lie to her, I shake my head before resting it against the tree. “No, but, I think I’ll get there...” A few seconds pass as she absorbs my answer. When her warm hand falls over my knee, I do my best not to jump out of my skin. “What can I do to help?” The words I want to say, tumble around inside of me, an inelegant mess: Just don’t move, Bri. Stand right there, and know that I’m coming for you, with intention, and with purpose. Although I don’t yet have the right to say this to you, I want you to know that I desire you in my life forever. And, I’m working on making that happen in a meaningful and permanent way. Just don’t give up on me. I won’t be long. Instead, I lean down and drop a kiss on her head as I whisper, “You’re already doing it, my life.”← Previous Chapter: Chapter 14 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 16Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← 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

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 12 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 14My hair is still wet from my shower after my workout the next morning, so I run a comb through it, even if it will get styled on set by hair and makeup later. Surprising no one, I worked out alone this morning in the small room that was converted into a weight room. I’ve had enough conversations with Briony about healthy routines to know that voluntarily lifting a weight is not something she’s likely to take up. Still, it didn’t stop me from looking up at every small creak of wood, or change in the shadows. As I step out of my room, the smell of sausage hits me, along something distinctly mouthwatering. I smell potatoes. I try to casually stride into the great room, but as soon as I see the lights on over the kitchen island as Briony bustles around to big band music playing on a speaker, I’m across the room in three strides. Today’s the day! For every movie and television series that I’ve filmed since Briony has become my chef, she takes a day to dress up as a character from the show, to help me get my head in the game. It started as a casual joke, when I told her that sometimes it’s hard to stay focused after reading a script alone over 250 times. At some point the words just become silly and meaningless if I’m just running them over and over. Briony had innocently asked what would help, and I said the Queen of Gamma herself would have to show up to run lines with me. The next morning, that’s exactly who showed up in my kitchen, blue face and all. We had a good laugh, and she helped me run lines for the rest of the day. From then on, besides regularly running lines with me, Briony would also dress up at least once during every production. It became our thing. A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I realize this could be the last time we get to do this, if I don’t figure out how to claim her heart. And fast. Briony’s back is to me as she bounces to—I look down at her phone on the island—‘Paper Doll’ by the Mills Brothers. I smile, taking in her outfit. Once again, she’s outdone herself. Her dark hair has been straightened, and pinned away from her face, with the curled ends spilling over her shoulders. A fitted white cotton button down with rolled, short sleeves is tucked into a tan button down skirt that skims her hips, falling just past her knees. It’s cinched at her trim waist with a matching tan belt. She even found a pair of brown pumps that could have come straight out of catalogue in 1943. She must have befriended the wardrobe crew again. She looks fantastic, and I suddenly have an urge to see all of her flowery black chef jackets disappear. “War times aren’t conducive to extra expenses. Do I want to know what you did to be able to afford stockings this year?” I tease. Briony spins around with a smile on her face. “I sold a goat, and some old embroidery that was hanging on a wall.” I smile as I sit at the island appreciating her soft makeup. “Ah, so we’re just opposed to getting up early in the morning to work out? Your hair and make up must have taken hours, you’re gorgeous, darling.” “Do you really think so?” She asks, touching her hair self consciously. It’s adorable, and I don’t know where to look first as I drink her in. “Yes, love. Lucille Ball would be proud.” “Ha!” Briony scoffs, hurling a balled up dish towel at me. “Kidding!” I laugh, catching the towel with a hand. “I see you used Lauren Bacall as inspiration. This look really suits you, love.” When I’m rewarded with a shy smile, I swipe a hand down my charcoal trousers, and hold it out. “Dance with me,” I plead as a new song starts up. Briony’s slow blink draws a smile out of me. “I don’t know how to dance to this,” she declares, waving me off with both hands. I stand up and come around the island. “That’s alright, love. I’ll help you.” She turns off a flame and, looking at me dubiously, she slips her hand into mine. “Can you dance?” She asks suspiciously. “I can tap dance,” I say as I start spinning her and moving my feet in time to the music. Briony is concentrating on copying my moves. “Really?” I spin and swing her around as I tease her. “No, but we seem to be figuring this out just fine.” I check the name of the song as we pass by the phone. ‘I’ve Heard That Song Before’ by Harry James and His Orchestra. We laugh as we hop around the kitchen, doing our best imitation of 40s style swing dancing. We’re nearly out of breath by the time that song goes off and the next comes on. It’s a slower song, and a quick glance reveals the song is ‘Sunday, Monday, or Always’ by Bing Crosby. With my heart thudding, I pull Briony into my arms, and there’s no stiffness as we begin to sway to the music. Even with her heels, we’re still not quite cheek to cheek, but I greedily inhale her comforting sweet peach and coconut scent, grateful to be this close. A puff of warm air hits my neck as she wraps her arms around me, sighing against the collar of my blue button down shirt. As the lyrics echo the thoughts plaguing my heart, I close my eyes, not wanting this moment to end. “Somehow, I don’t think this is helping you find your character,” Briony whispers. I pull her closer as we continue to sway to what ever song comes on next. “I’ll have you know, Miss Briony, this is the closest I’ve ever been to Wing Commander Rafe Edwards, thank you.” Briony chuckles. “I’ll have you know, Commander, your breakfast is getting cold.” I smile against her temple as I spin us around the great room, intoxicated by the music and the feel of the woman in my arms. “You know I’m going off on another mission,” I say softly. “I may not make it back. This may be the last moment we have together.” Briony tilts her head back, a question in the liquid pools of her chocolate eyes. Time stops as my eyes drop to her rosy lips before I drag them back to hers. Gazing into her eyes, I know this is inevitable. Whether, it’s today, tomorrow, or a year from now, Briony is the only one for me. The only one there will ever be. “Don’t you want to give me something to remember you by, my love?” The question quietly slips out, aching, pleading. The music fades as Briony nods, almost imperceptibly. Then, there’s only the sound of my heart pounding in my ears as my eyes drop to her softly parted lips. Our breaths mingle as I dip my head, and our lips softly brush— CRASH! Briony and I leap apart as if we’re competing American Ninja Warrior and the floor is lava. “Oh, clover! Sorry, sir! I didn’t realize..I didn’t see—” Scowling at Alfie, who’s profusely apologizing as he bends to pick up the remnants of a breakfast tray from the bottom of the stairs, I glance at Briony. She’s managed to teleport over to the kitchen, and begun plating breakfast, as if nothing has happened. As if there aren’t a million stars dancing in my eyes, and I haven’t been left completely breathless. Running a hand over my hair, I heave a sigh and resume my seat at the island. Somehow, this feels worse than where I began this morning. “Bri, can I see you—” “Breakfast’s ready!” Briony interjects, sliding a plate in front of me, and staring over my shoulder. “Alfie leave that. We can pick it up later. Come have breakfast. There’s pork sausage and home fries this morning.” The tinkling sound of broken dishes comes to a halt while I blindly stare at my plate of three sausages and a couple of potato wedges and onions. “No, Briony,” Alfie protests. “I’ll just pick this up and leave you two—” He may as well have been speaking to the wind. “Absolutely not, Alfie! Don’t play with me. You’ll sit right there next to..er..Nicholas, and enjoy breakfast.” I glance at her sharply as she busies herself setting out biscuits and pouring coffee…all while avoiding eye contact. Nicholas? Are we strangers now? Briony has never called me Nicholas. It’s been Nick from the first meeting. Nicholas sounds cold and foreign coming from her lips. Those lips. I close my eyes, swallowing a groan of frustration as I remember how soft they were. When I open them, Briony, has her back to us as she slices fruit. I shoot a dirty look at Alfie, who smiles sheepishly with a shrug of his shoulders. I draw my thumb across my throat in a threatening manner, but when Alfie looks down pitifully at his plate, I sigh and begin eating. As Briony begins the dishes, Alfie leans over. “I’m truly sorry, sir,” he whispers sadly. “If I had noticed you earlier, I wouldn’t have come downstairs at all.” I shake my head as I swallow my tender potatoes which have turned to sawdust in my mouth. I can’t bring myself to say it’s fine, but I’ll get over it..eventually. I’ve only managed to cut up my sausage when a loud sigh echoes next to me. I glance over to see Alfie miserably chewing his food. “What’s wrong with you?” I quietly hiss. He swallows his food, looks down at his plate and back at me. “I’ve already eaten breakfast,” he whispers. “I was bringing my dishes back to wash them. This is what I get for trying to be early to call time,” he mutters, shoving another bite in his mouth. I chuckle despite myself. Even when she’s flustered, my Life is a force to be reckoned with. Despite many attempts to bring up the near kiss, Briony has made it her life’s mission to never acknowledge it. A heavy sense of déjà vu accompanies my attempts to have a conversation about it, only to be dismissed, or have her disappear on me. It’s that night all over again. That evening, I’m haunted in endless coconut peach dreams by what could have been, only to wake up exhausted and ill-tempered. During the day, shooting begins with the last scene of the series. After today, we’re going to be shooting the rest of the series in order. I was praised by the costume designer for being able to fit into my costume without trouble, although the director, Andrew, thinks I should have lost a few more pounds for a more pronounced look. Ah well. There’s no pleasing everyone. My character Rafe is supposedly on war rations for several years, so I was meant to show up lean, but as the story progresses, with Rafe first convalescing as he eats well and later works on Annika’s farm, caring for animals and growing potatoes, his body is supposed to fill out and become bulkier. My fitness trainer, Bert, refuses to allow my gains to be due to a lack of activity. Therefore, I’m not only changing the type of exercises and amount of weight I’m using, I also have to stick to a new diet of protein, greens, and, to my ever growing disappointment, good carbs. Bert insists all weight gain will be pure muscle, so I’m definitely more disagreeable lately than usual. Which is why I don’t blame Chanel the chamois when she head butts me during one of the first days of filming. To be fair, I think I stepped into her shot at the wrong time. At any rate, I was sent home early, and given two days’ rest. Which is how I managed to fall asleep, sprawled face down on the great room sofa. When Briony comes over that evening, and rubs a finger over my cheek to wake me, I’m ready to take on Chanel again. “I heard you were sent home from class. What happened, Nicky babe? Were you bullied?” I suppress the smile at hearing my nickname again after being largely ignored, and instead focus on accumulating Briony’s pity. “Yes. I was head butted in the back by Chanel the chamois. I would like to file a formal complaint. Chamois’ aren’t soft.” Briony squats beside me, running her fingers through my hair, and as she begins massaging my scalp, my eyes close and I shiver. “It could have been worse,” she quietly replies after a few blissful moments. As her words slide over me, my only focus is on the pleasure a scalp massage can give. However, Briony leans close to my ear and whispers, “It could have been Spike the chamois.” Groaning when she stands and walks away, leaving me bereft, I’m sulking over the loss of her fingers when I think of Spike. That’s when I realize, where Chanel’s horns curl back toward her head, Spike’s horns stand straight out and away from his head, like some kind of double horned unicorn. Laughter erupts as I envision that debacle. “Touché, my love.” Three days later, I’m back to work, and for the next two weeks, things limp along, as normal as could be expected. The tension in the air between Briony and I can be cut with a knife, yet, I’m forced to give up hope of having a conversation about that which shall remain nameless. At least, if I don’t want to see Briony hightailing it at the barest hint of it. Instead, I resolve to let things naturally take their course, however slowly that may be. So, we spend our weekends hiking a trail, or swimming in the cold, but crystal clear lake. I should say, I swim and Briony bathes in the shallows, since she can’t swim. Slowly, she ventures out a little deeper, learning something new every time. In between dips in the lake, and eating our picnic lunches, we sun ourselves on our towels while reading Hamlet, since she admitted to never reading it. Despite the fact that Briony hates tragedies, she enthusiastically embraces the reading, and throws herself into her parts. Our discussions are always lively, and we frequently draw the attention of holiday goers on the lake with our laughter. I know she only agreed to read Hamlet to convince me to try for the lead role. As much as I love the theater, it’s a different world to films and television series. It calls on a different set of skills, and endurance, but each performance leaves me more invigorated for the next. I’ve long dreamed of returning to the theater where I got my start, but my agent, James, constantly reminds me it’s not the right time. He isn’t thrilled that I’m considering it now, but when a legendary director like Peter Smithson calls and asks you to consider working with a world renowned Broadway producer, consider it you must. James’ reminders, that taking a break from film to do theater could mean a significant loss of time during the run of a show, as well as loss of market value, are warranted. It’s a serious consideration, as it could mean a loss of opportunities I may not be able to bounce back from. Yet, Briony’s constant encouragement to do the unexpected, being unafraid to fail, has me leaning toward taking the leap. “Why don’t you and I go fishing at the weekend?” I suggest to Briony one Friday. The sun is setting, casting its golden glow over Briony’s dark curls as she finishes scrubbing a pot. Her eyes shine in amusement as she dries her hands on a towel. “The last time we went fishing, you said that I was terrible at my job.” “I said what I said,” I smirk. “Your only job was to look for large rocks standing out of the lake, love. We hit every single one!” Briony laughs, as she wrings out the towel and lays it on the rack to dry. “So, you’re saying that you finally forgive me?” “Ha!” I scoff. “I’ll always remember towing a wrecked rowboat back to the rental shop, but I assure you, darling, I don’t hold it against you.” Briony comes around the island to stand in front in of me as she coyly bats her lashes. “So, you’re willing to play with me again?” She teases. My brows shoot up as I look into her playful brown eyes. “Always,” I say softly. “That never changes. The question is, are you ready to play fair?” She’s in the middle of undoing the top two buttons of her chef’s jacket, when I smile. Her nimble fingers stutter on the open flap, as my eyes follow the movement, and when I drag my eyes back to hers, she visibly swallows. “Come fishing with me, tomorrow,” I insist, my voice diving several octaves. Avoiding eye contact, she gurgles a vague response and skitters away. “I’ll take that as a yes, love,” I call out after her departing figure with a grin. I push off my bar stool at the island, slowly releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It may kill me, but if Briony requires a snail’s pace, then that’s how fast we’ll go. In the meantime, I think I need to go for a walk, and perhaps..take a plunge in the lake before dinner…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 12 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 14Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 11 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 13“So, let me get this straight. You booked a whole chalet for just you, me, and Alfie?” Briony drinks in the large wood and stone house from her perch on Doris. Against the back drop of the Alps, with its green rolling hills and crystal clear lake, it’s quite beautiful. With a nod in response, I sweep off my helmet, and turning toward Briony, I undo her chinstrap, removing hers as well. I can’t help smiling at the scowl lighting her face. Someone’s hungry, but I know better than to mention that now. “We’re not five minutes down the road from where the rest of the cast and crew are staying, Bri. It’s no different to other arrangements we’ve had over the years.” Briony is looking at me skeptically, with good reason. A large chalet for the three of us is quite unusual. I’m not a flashy man. Practical, useful, functional. That’s what I primarily care about. I don’t mind staying with the crew. I don’t mind having the smallest room in a lodge. What I do mind, is anything that disturbs my peace and safety, and those who work with me. Which means, if I’m going to be on set all day with the woman who was haranguing my Life the last time I saw her, that’s where my being accommodating comes to an end. I refuse to subject Briony to harassment, and I further refuse, on principle, to sleep under the same roof as that woman. The production staff understood of course, and they were more than happy for the surplus room in their budget. As an added bonus, they won’t continue to be harassed by Amelia about my ‘co-workers’ using rooms that could go to someone else. Win-Win-Win. Yet, Briony hasn’t gotten off the motorbike. I tug on a curl hanging from under the kerchief tied over her hair. “What’s the matter, my Life?” Briony frowns, her brown eyes searching mine. “Why do you keep asking me about your life? I don’t see anything at all wrong with your life at the moment.” I smile down at her. “Then, why is she still sitting on the motorbike? We still have half a day here, and I wonder if you’ll venture out to dinner with me at the little restaurant we saw halfway down the mountain.” Bemusement lines her face, but she nods. “Ok, but first let me shower and change into real clothes. And..let’s ride in something with a roof.” “Agreed,” I grin. Removing our sacks from the top box, we stow our helmets and gear as we walk up the few short stairs of the wood and stone chalet. “It’s still kind of big, for just the three of us, isn’t it?” Briony asks hesitantly. Inputting the code in the key pad, I nod in response. “There are five bedrooms, but it’s good to have other rooms to work out in, or convert to an office. The code is in our shared app.” “Ok, thanks,” Briony acknowledges as the heavy wood door swings open. One of the things I love about her is that she’s always full of a sense of wonder. Nothing ever becomes old hat, or unimpressive. I think it’s part of her secret for savoring life. Closing the door behind us, I lean against it as I absorb Briony’s reaction. I’ve always enjoyed seeing the huge smile on her face when she encounters something new. How her eyes bounce around as though she doesn’t know what to look at first. Yet, I wonder when I began deliberately doing things just to see that look of amazement bloom across her face? All we’ve done is step into the muted cream and grey great room, with its floor to ceiling windows providing views of green hills and white capped mountains reflected in the lake below. Yet, Briony is aglow. “This is gorgeous, Nick! Oh! Maybe we can go stargazing,” she bounces around the great room as she looks back me hopefully. I smile tiredly. “I should hope so. Alfie is even stocking a couple months supply of your favorite hot cocoa.” Briony’s smile grows wider as her dimples appear. “We can drink it in front of the massive fireplace. Just look at this sofa! It’s huge!” “Excellent idea, love.” Despite it being summer, the evenings will be cooler at this elevation. I’m nearly tempted to forgo dinner in favor of curling up on the sofa. I take in the wide planked, wood floors, the stone mantel of the fireplace, and the broad beams bracketed between the skylights in the lofted ceiling. “It’s brilliant,” I nod, satisfied. However, Briony is already gliding over to the kitchen, with its double ovens, eight burner stove and double stainless steel refrigerators. A breakfast nook on the other side of the kitchen provides another stunning view of a different mountain range, and she runs a hand over the fine woodwork of the table as she contentedly takes it in. “There’s so much space, we could cater from here. I love it!” Smiling as I push off the door, I walk towards the kitchen. “I’m glad it meets your approval, Princess.” She grins at me as she begins examining what’s inside every single charcoal painted cupboard. “Alfie should be on his way with the shopping soon,” I remind her as I pull out a couple bottles of water from the fridge. Uncapping one, I hand it to her, charmed by the shy smile she flashes me as she accepts it. I raise my brows, but the smile is gone just as quickly. Briony nods. “Oh, good. I see we’re light on the staples.” I walk over to a black marble countertop and knock on it. “Is this going to be ok for your breads?” Her eyes widen as she excitedly slaps a hand to her forehead. “That’s right! I forgot you can start adding more carbs to your diet again. I got an email from Bert, and he said you’re going to need to start bulking now. He’s changing up your exercises to accommodate the weight so that you’re building muscle in as a healthy way as possible. What day do you film the reunion scene this week?” I snort as I lean on the back of a bar stool. Leave it to my fitness trainer to take the joy out of gaining weight. “Tomorrow,” I respond. Briony nods, “Ok, good. So, I’ll do some stews as a lead in. Good news, that means a bit more potatoes! I mean sweet potatoes, but a win is a win.” I chuckle. It’s hard to believe that a few months ago, her teasing me about potatoes would be enough to stir up feelings. Now, look at me. One look and the woman herself has my stomach in knots. “Do you want to see the rest of the place, love?” I ask with a smile. “Oh, yeah. Let’s see what they did with the place!” Interestingly the master suite and a smaller bedroom are on the first level, with the remaining bedrooms on the upper level. Stepping into the master suite, there’s a fantastic view of the mountains with a deep balcony outside the windows, but the stone feature wall behind the king bed captures Briony’s attention. When she runs her hand on the white fur blanket on top of the pluffy down-blanket, I walk over to do the same. I raise my brows, “It’s so soft…” Her amazement is palpable as she looks up at me. “I know! I just want to rub my face in it.” My brows twitch as I swallow. I clear my throat, “If you want, you can have this room. I can take another.” Her brows slam down as she backs away. “What? No. This is the Master. This is your room.” I sigh as I walk toward the toilet. “The Master will always belong to my Life. If you want it, it’s yours.” Turning to the bank of switches, I turn on the lights to get a look at the bathroom. The large flagstone flooring, and stone countertops compliment the wood and stone throughout the cabin, but the look is softened by gold fixtures and a white polar rug. A small water closet houses the toilet, and a large standup shower with a stone feature wall faces views of the Alps. Does every room have a view? Yet, Briony doesn’t see any of it. “Why are there two bathtubs?” She stares at the two large tubs that run along a wall of windows facing a stand of trees. Hm. “Maybe it’s his and her bathtubs?” I deadpan. Her head whips all the way around. “What?” “You’re right darling, that’s silly. Who would pass up an opportunity to share a tub?” I smirk when she starts coughing. “Just kidding. No, I imagine one tub is for soaking, and the other is a jacuzzi. See the jets?” I point to the holes in one of the tubs. Briony has barely managed to regain her composure as she nods. “Ohhh, that makes sense. Wow. This bathroom is so well done. But, this shower stall is completely see through. Are you going to be ok with all of these open windows?” I quirk a brow, and when her cheeks redden I smile. “I think having the curtains will help. So, no peeking.” “What!” She cries, already backing toward the door. “I would never!” “Oh, that’s right! You and your American prudery,” I chuckle. Her face blanks as she puts her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?” She asks in mock outrage. I laugh, holding up a hand in defense. “Your words, not mine, my love.” I gaze at her, willing her to remember that night, but she looks at me incredulously. Then, she abruptly turns around, shaking her head. “Oook, whatever.” I turn off the lights as I follow her out of the toilet. “So, you’re taking this room, yes?” She looks at me like I’m having a go at her. “Are you serious?” I smile, “Yes, dearest. Truly. Allow me to locate the luggage, and I’ll bring it in for you.” “Absolutely not!” She squeaks, panic in her eyes as she runs from the room. Fascinating. I chuckle as I follow her into the room across the hall, and immediately notice it’s a lot smaller than the master, but it feels very cozy. Another King bed sits against a wall, adjacent to a large double picture window with a cushioned window seat. Briony is sitting on the bed running a hand over the grey fur blanket and fur lined pillows. I turn away before she starts rubbing her face against them. There’s only so much a man can take. I poke a head in the toilet, and despite there not being two baths and tall glass shower, there’s a water closet, a deep combination tub and shower, and sink with a stone countertop. “I’ll be fine in here,” Briony calls. “But, where’s the luggage?” “I’ll check,” I offer, stepping into the hallway to call Alfie. “Sir,” he answers. “We’ve arrived, and we’re looking for the luggage. Where did you place them?” “In the master suite, in the closet.” I nod, remembering walking past the walk in closet. “Alright, and where’s Briony’s luggage?” A pause. “In the master suite, in the closet. Sir.” I shake my head with a smile. “I see how what you did, Alfie. What’s your ETA?” “Four minutes.” “Good. We’re in the two bedrooms downstairs. We’re likely going out for dinner. Will you join us?” A brief pause, then, “No, sir. I have plans with Canva and a bottle of pinot. Do you know how hard it is to plan for three different wedding venues over the course of four different seasons?” I quirk a brow. “Alfie, we’re not—” “Ah, sorry, Sir. It’s nothing you need to worry about. Good job getting her to stay on the same floor.” “Ha! I wasn’t asking for praise—you know what…never mind. Cheers.” After retrieving her luggage, I knock on Briony’s door. When she responds, I poke my head in. “Are you decent, love?” “This time,” she responds drily from the bed, propping herself up on her elbows. I swallow, and open the door wider. “Here’s your luggage,” I mutter, sitting the large suitcase on the luggage stand and leaving the smaller carry on bag beside it. When I look up, Briony’s dark eyes are following me as a smile plays at her lips. I smile in response. “What is it?” Her dimples appear letting me know I’m about to get teased. “It’s nothing. I think I just realized that your muscles aren’t just for show.” I lick my suddenly dry lips, and gaze back at her, fighting that same unfamiliar feeling of nervous excitement that had zinged through me at the petrol station when she winked at me. Is she..really flirting with me? Clearing my throat, I smirk. “If you’re interested in learning how I got them, I’d be happy to let you join my workout regimen every morning.” Terror flashes through her eyes as she sits up abruptly. I probably should have flirted, but she’s so easy to tease. “Ha ha,” she awkwardly laughs as she hustles towards me. “I think it’s time to get the dirt of the road off me. We’re burning daylight and all of that.” Realizing that she may not have realized I was teasing, I panic, and blurt out, “I didn’t mean to say that you need to work out. You look great, now!” When she frowns at me, I realize my error and hurry to add, “Not that there was ever a time you didn’t look great. You’ve always been beautiful, and you don’t need to change a thing. It’s just nice to have company when doing things, and I always enjoy your company, so I thought we could workout together in the morning since you like my muscles or—that really didn’t—” “Nick!” Briony shouts, covering her eyes with a hand. The ensuing silence is awkward and quite loud. I’m such an idiot. Why did I think having acted in a few roles could prepare me for real life, when there are real feelings and real consequences on the line? How do people do it when it’s not scripted? I sigh. “I’m sorry, Bri. I only meant that..well you see, I—” “Nope!” She exclaims, lifting her hands from her eyes. It’s then I see the amusement shining there, and realize she isn’t upset with me. The wave of relief draws a smile out of me. “Nicky babe, if you’d like me to come and spot you, then you’ll have to work out when it’s not the crack, ok? 5:30am is already a feat of magnificent proportions on shooting days.” I chuckle as she continues, hands on her hips, her shoulders thrown back as she pretends to scowl up at me. “Seriously, if you want someone keeping you company at 4am, I’m going to need my fiefdom like, yesterday. Now,” she says, drawing close to reach around me and open the bedroom door. “Run along dear boy, and get ready for din dins, because I could eat a bear.” I smile as I take a backward step into the hallway. “But, just think how good your muscles would look if you join me,” I deadpan. With a roll of her eyes and a quirk of lips, the door slams in my face. I burst into laughter as I cross the hall to my room. Forget trouble. Trouble was several weeks ago. I’ve blown past that sign. Now, I’m fully and unapologetically in love with my Life. But, how do I tell her that?← Previous Chapter: Chapter 11 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 13Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 10 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 12After having lunch in Paris the next day and staying in Dijon overnight, we arrive in Switzerland early Sunday afternoon. By the time I pull into the quiet town at the base of the lush green mountains, the low hanging clouds that blanket the snow topped summit has already begun releasing a light drizzle of rain. Nick gently taps me on the leg, sending lightning straight to my stomach. I turn my head, although he comes in clearly through the comms. “Hey, love, is it alright if I take us up the mountain? It’s one of my favorite rides, and I haven’t done it in a while.” “Sure,” I say, looking around for a place to pull over. “I thought you’d never ask.” His deep chuckle reverberates through me, sending a shiver up my spine. “I was too busy enjoying the view. Oh, petrol station ahead to the right, love.” I smile as I pull in to the gas station and line up behind a truck at the pump. My body has been reacting to the silliest things lately, and, I know it’s because my imagination has run off with me. I dare anyone to try waking up next to the most charismatic and caring man they’ve ever met, and manage to not have their imagination run wild at the barest hint of interest. It was only once, but apparently, that’s all it takes. I was pretty stiff when we first set off, worried that the great internal battle over my emotions would be discovered as soon as I touched him. Yet, as the miles melted away with the beauty of green rolling hills and blue skies, I forgot to be nervous. I’m not sure my heart will ever beat the same after spending a few days with our arms wrapped around each other as we switched off riding through fields of wildflowers and gorgeous mountain passes that held crystal blue lakes. Still, I took the opportunity to enjoy it without feeling guilty about feeling up Evie’s brother. After all, when will this ever happen again? In fact, I may have gotten a bit too comfortable. Something I realized when I caught myself using his legs as arm rests and impromptu drum pads when a song I liked came on. Nick didn’t utter a single word of complaint, and in fact, he ended up returning the favor on his driving shifts. We have two different tastes in music, and that could have been a problem. However, we knew that before we started this trip, and we were able to find a compromise. Between Nick’s EDM and the wide range of R&B, Country, and Pop music that I like, we not only made it work, we found new people to listen to when we discovered crossover artists. Nick even convinced me to listen to one of his BBC Radio dramas, and while I can’t see myself listening to another one any time soon, it was an interesting way to pass the time. Time flew even more when we turned off the music and chatted about various interests. I think road trips on the back of a motorcycle might be my new favorite thing. That’s problematic since I can only see myself doing them with Nick. The same Nick who seems to be gearing up to date some woman that nobody knows about. I even messaged Evie about who the mystery woman could be, and was met with a shoulder shrug emoji and a purple heart emoji. What does that even mean? After pulling up to the pump, I get off the bike to stretch my legs as Nick pumps the gas, or petrol, as he likes to say. I take off my helmet a moment to readjust my satin bandana, and look up at Nick. Although I can’t see his face since his visor is still down, I can sense he’s watching me. I smile and give him a flirty wink before putting my helmet on and closing the visor, glad to cover up my reddening cheeks. I may regularly tease Nick, but actually flirting is a line I’ve never dreamed of crossing before. I can’t even blame this on Evie if it goes sideways. “Are you thirsty, love?” Nick’s warm voice comes over the comms, nearly causing me to collapse in a melted puddle on the pavement. “Wh-what?” I sputter, my heart beating a tattoo in my chest. There’s no way he’s flirting with me... Nick chuckles and taps Doris’ trunk with a gloved hand. “Would you like some water?” See. I knew it. I can calm down. “Oh!” I exhale. “I’m not thirsty, thanks.” His helmet tips to the side, and I can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “Are you sure? Seemed as though you could use a drink…” I grin despite myself, oh sweet pecan buds, this man is flirting with me. I try to keep my heart from beating out of my chest, but it’s no use. I can’t handle it, and immediately chicken out. Still, my voice is breathy when I respond. “You know, I could always use a drink, but we’re almost there. I can wait until I’m able to drink my fill.” Nick hums in response, and as he replaces the nozzle and screws in the cap, I open my mouth to mime a scream. When Nick gets back on the bike, I climb on behind him, loosely threading my hands together around his middle, not wanting to make it weird. But, as Nick pulls out onto the street, his deep voice comes over the comms. “Only about 15 minutes now, love. Don’t forget to hang on as we ascend the mountain. The hairpin turns here can get a bit tricky, and I didn’t come this far to lose you now.” I wrap my arms tighter around him in response. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting go.” Nick hums, “Glad to hear it love,” and reaches down to pat my knee. It’s a new move that has never failed to please the butterflies that now rule my stomach. What I don’t expect is the wave of sadness that washes over me at the realization our little road trip is pretty much over. This has been one of my favorite trips, and if it weren’t for the paychecks regularly hitting my account, it would have felt more like a mini vacation than part of a work trip. Especially when we got to relax at a hotel after a long day of riding. Last night, I not only received another fantastic foot massage, I busted out my own masseur expertise from years spent working at a spa, before attending Le Cordon Bleu. Laying two towels end to end on the green carpeted floor in the living room of our two bedroom suite, I gestured for Nick to lay down. As he removed his shirt, I busied myself with the little jar of coconut oil I carry for my hair. I didn’t look up until he was laying face down. Not that it helped. His broad back is just as beautiful. Good grief. Nick may have started off teasing me about hidden talents, but after massaging in the oil and attacking his trap muscles, I was the one who had the last laugh. He definitely shed a few tears of joy in the process. “It’s absolutely sinful that your hands feel this wonderful, love. If I had known all this time what I’d been missing, I would have fired Alfie from his massage duties years ago,” he groaned. I chuckled as I worked my way between his shoulder blades. “You couldn’t have afforded me then.” His breath had caught as he sighed. “Oh? Why is that, love?” “Because the price of this massage is friendship. We only just cleared that up a couple of months ago.” He hummed as I worked my way down to his lower back, pausing to work out a knot. When he gripped his forearms I smiled. “Relax, Nicky babe. Just breathe.” He grunted a response before clearing his throat. “Do you…have a lot of friends you do this for?” I laughed quietly. “With the schedule you keep? It’s a small wonder my family still speaks to me.” After a moment of silence he thoughtfully said, “If you need more than six weeks vacation…” I smacked him in the shoulder. “You know what I’m saying, Nick. I have exactly the amount of time I need to keep up with loved ones. Outside of my family, Evie, and you, who else do I need to keep in contact with? Besides. Starting a business isn’t child’s play. The permits alone are driving me crazy.” Nick lifted his head then, resting his chin on his hands. “If you ever need help, I’m always here. All you need to do is ask, love.” I frowned, suddenly bothered by his casual use of endearments. It never bothered me before, but for some reason, it was starting to annoy me. How can he expect any woman to date him if he goes around offering darlings and loves to anyone he meets? If I were the one Nick was dating, I wouldn’t want him dropping them on every bagel girl or makeup artist he met. “Maybe you should save all of…that for the woman you’re planning to start a life with.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” He grunted. “You know, all of that ‘love’ business. I know you’re English, but you don’t want to give other people the wrong idea.” When he chuckled in response, I resisted the urge to pinch him, applying more pressure to release the knot instead. “Ow. What did I do to deserve that?” “Just breathe through it, love,” I replied sarcastically. I could only see his profile at that angle, as his ears reddened. “Is it bothering you that much?” I grumbled, “Not me, darling. Just helping you win the love of your life. How would she feel hearing you call every Jennifer, Annie and Louise, love?” Seeing his cheeks rise, I suspected he was smiling. “Do you hear me call just any woman, ‘love’?” “You call pretty much everyone….” My voice trails off as I realize, while there may be an abundance of darlings, and a handful of dears, I rarely hear him use love. In fact…did he only pick up this habit on this trip? Butterflies start to flutter. “Ok, maybe not ‘love,’ but the others for sure.” “And, it bothers you to hear me use that term of endearment with you?” I sputtered in surprise. “What? Well, no…not me, per se. Just a general observation. About using them with other people.” Silence. Ugh, what’s wrong me? I sounded like an idiot. I cleared my throat. “I mean, your future Mrs. Nicholas Bancroft, may not understand your generous use of the term. You wouldn’t want to run her off if she doesn’t understand you don’t mean it when you use it with people other than her.” Nick chuckled, “Oh, I mean it, love. But, I take your point. I won’t use them on anyone else anymore. Do you mind if I continue using them with you? It’s a rather difficult habit to break at this point.” Yes, I do mind, because it’s not for me. Not really. Still, I couldn’t deny I would miss it if it disappeared altogether. I sighed in frustration. “No, I don’t mind, Nick. I guess I’ll even write the future Mrs. Bancroft a letter of endorsement of your character. That should clear up any confusion.” Nick sighed before haltingly asking, “I can only hope for it, but how can you be so sure she’ll end up being my future Mrs.?” I chuckled despite myself. “No fishing for compliments now, Mr. Wonderful. To know you is to love you. As long as she gives you a fingernail worth of attention, you’ll worm your way into her heart t—”I broke off in shock. Did I just nearly admit that I— Nick lifted his head. “What do you mean…by…that..feels amazing, darling,” he sighed, as I massaged his neck, pushing through his thick blonde hair to reach his scalp. The distraction worked, and as he groaned in appreciation, I blew out a soft breath. Before long, Nick was softly snoring. Quietly stepping into my beige and green bedroom, I went straight to the matching bathroom, and dropped down on the side of the tall bathtub. What is happening? After I forced myself to take a few deep breaths, I stood up to look at myself in the mirror. Ok, be honest with yourself now, girl. There’s no one else here. There’s no judgment. Are you in love with Nick? The curly headed, wide eyed woman that stared back at me had no more of a response than I did. Maybe because I refused to answer. After another minute staring at myself, I splashed some water on my face, and gently slapped my cheeks. I was being absurd. I couldn’t be in love with Nick because…because..I’m busy. I have things! So many permits! So many vendors to consider! Ok, I just need to find one more vendor for cooking oil disposal, but still! So, busy! It sounded weak to my own ears. I blew out a breath. He has a person he likes already. Even if I had the time, what am I supposed to do here? Wave a white flag in front of his face? Tell him, ‘yoo-hoo, sorry, I’m actually over here?’ Watch him laugh his face off at my expense? Pulling the hair tie out of my hair, I pushed my hands through my curls. I needed to calm down. This was obviously a mistake. Some part of my nervous system was just anxious about striking out on my own. The newness of the venture, and now the possibility of losing Nick in a way that I wasn’t prepared for. We’re just friends. Very good friends. The kind that gives a person endless butterflies, and heart stopping stares, and electric brushing of fingers. Nothing more, nothing less…right. On a whim, I pulled my phone out of my purple lounge shorts, and sent a message to Evie. ‘Am I in love with Nick?’ What was I doing?! Before I could undo the send, Evie read the message. Oh no! ‘Kindly disregard last message,’ I rapidly shot off, but it was too late. My phone was ringing, and no amount of debate could save me. If I ignored the call, Evie would just call back until I picked up. Heaving a sigh, I didn’t bother to say hello when I answered. “Please tell me this is just part of my existential crisis from a couple of months ago. I’m just latching on to the first male around me that’s showing a modicum of love and care, but I can’t be in love with Nick. Tell me it’s fake, Evie!” Silence. Then, “Aunty Bri?” I blinked. “Parker?” Parker giggled sweetly, “Hi, Aunty! Mummy says she needs to grab her smelly salt.” I chuckled. He’s too, cute. “Oh, her smelling salts? Are you taking good care of Mummy and Daddy?” “Yes, and Braxie too!” He said with the lisp of a four year old. “Good job, babes. I can’t wait to see you again. We didn’t finish our pillow fight.” I heard some mumbling in the background before Parker grumbled, “Mummy says I have to go to bed. I love you, Aunty Bri!” I smiled in response. “I love you too, Sparky.” “Then stop giving me heart attacks over here, Bri!” Evie half shrieks into the phone. I quietly laughed as I stepped out of the bathroom, and threw myself across my bed. “You can just disregard that message, Evie. It was a brief moment of madness. I’m fine.” Evie sighed. “You aren’t fine, Bri. You’ve been working pretty much nonstop since last year. Between flying here and there with Nicky, and trying to get the truck going, you haven’t taken a single break.” I rolled over to stare at the ceiling through the sheer bed canopy. “I guess you’re right. I must be tired to come up with such an outrageous idea.” Evie’s laugh made my blood run cold. “Oh, no, darling. You’re absolutely right about being in love with Nicky. That much has been obvious for years.” “What?” I exclaimed, clapping a hand over my mouth as I remembered I left Nick napping just outside of my bedroom. Whispering into the phone, I shook my head. “You couldn’t be more wrong. It was just a moment of weakness, Evie. You’re right. I’m tired, and these past couple of months with Nick have been…different. Maybe this new character affected him, I don’t know. But I can’t be in love with Nick. We’re friends!” Evie scoffed. “And since when has friendship been a bad foundation for love?” I sputtered in denial. “What- you can’t be-it’s..no. We can’t.” Laughter filled my ears as my head started to throb. “Why is that, and who is ‘we’?” I rubbed at my throbbing temple and tried to formulate a reasonable response. “‘We’ is irrelevant. The point is we—I can’t be in love with Nick, because we’ve been friends, and want to keep being friends. And he’s in love with someone already. You should hear him talk about her, with this dreamy look in his eyes. It would make you sick, let me tell you.” “Is that how you felt, hearing about the woman he’s in love with?” I paused, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. “What an odd question to ask right now. Did you find out who she is?” “Between yesterday and today? I have no new information for you. But I do have a suggestion.” Raising a brow, I warily proceeeded. “This feels like a mistake, but..I’ll bite. What is it?” Evie paused. “Why don’t you pretend that you’re already dating Nick? There’s only a couple of months left. You don’t have to let him know what you’re doing. Just treat him like you would a boyfriend, and see where it goes. Worst case scenario is what? He’ll look at you and think, she’s been super nice in her last few months. I’ll give her a fantastic send off bonus. But best case?” Evie cackled, “You end up being Mrs. Nicholas Bancroft.” As my mouth dried at the prospect, I gave my head a firm shake, chuckling mirthlessly. It’s impossible. He’d take one look at me and know. “Ok,” I grunted. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m clearly not the one who’s suffering a mental breakdown. Just put Gene on the phone. I’ll help him find a facility near the city for you.” “I’m perfectly serious, Bri,” she scoffed. “You laugh now, but if you think about it, you’ll see I’m right. It’s the right move.” I close my eyes. “Why, because you think I’m in love with him?” There wasn’t a hint of humor in Evie’s voice when she responded. “No, because you already know you’re in love with him. That’s why you reached out to me.” She’s right. I inhaled sharply as I opened my eyes. Oh, brother. “And, it also doesn’t hurt that he’s in love with you,” Evie added. I bolted upright as a wave of shock zinged through me. “Evangeline Bancroft Downley. You need to stop.” The ensuing silence swallowed me, filling my lungs with panic. “We would know if we loved each other, beyond…friendship!” Evie snorted. “You both can be a bit slow-witted when it comes to these things.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’ve been accused of being a lot of things, Evie, but…” She tutted. “I’m sick of you both. Equally in denial. If he isn’t in love with you, why employ you as a full-time live-in chef?” “Ha!” I scoff. “He’s allergic to cooking. He tried to help me once, and burnt a pot of boiling water.” “Be serious, Bri. All he needed was a personal chef to come up with a weekly menu and meal prep for him. Before he hired you, Alfie traveled with him, and prepared his meals when away. When Alfie couldn’t be there, they hired a chef to follow the meal prep on location.” I sat, open mouthed, listening to this new revelation wondering why I never knew any of this. Thankfully, Evie was more than forthcoming. “When Nicky agreed to hire you as his personal chef, I begged him to help you find a place to live near his home, since commuting from Brooklyn would have been a nightmare every day. At the time, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why he resisted so heavily at first. Yet, when you said you got to his house, and there was a cottage for you to move into, I just about collapsed.” My brows were reaching for the sky, but I silently listened as Evie unloaded. “Suddenly, you were his private chef, moved into a cottage that didn’t exist on his property before I asked him to hire you, and you would be traveling with him to provide all of his meals. Nicky is a lot of things, but sentimental is not one of them. Well, Mum and Dad and I have been waiting for years for the glad tidings, but neither of you seem to be able to clear the first hurdle. You even vacationed here in London at the same time. Do you still believe that’s a coincidence?” “It was Braxton’s graduation…of course we’d both be there..” “It was kindergarten!” Evie exclaimed. I opened my mouth to reply, before snapping it shut. No. It’s not a coincidence. “And what about you, Bri? If it isn’t a travel day, you’re cooking for him. Even on your nights off. You run lines with him, you dress in movie costumes to help him get in character. You not only eat together, the two of you go on excursions in your free time while on location. You have more memories and photos together than a couple who’s been married for the same length of time.” My brows rose as she plowed on. “And, don’t get me started in on the motorbike. Alfie already told me Nicky traded in his Suzuki for a Honda something or other, so that you would have a way around for the six months you’re here. That was before finding out you two have taken the motorbike touring to Switzerland.” I sat up with a start. “I had no idea he’d traded the Suzuki. I only found out just before we left that he owned the Honda, and I suggested driving the bike instead of shipping it to save money. Evie, I would never have your brother—” “I know, Bri, I know,” she soothed. “You’re my best friend. I know your character, darling. I’m merely pointing out that this isn’t fanciful thinking or some existential crisis. This is love.” I sighed wearily, flopping back into the pillows. “We’re just—” “Before you say, you’re friends again, just realize, you don’t treat any other man like this. I’ve seen you around other men, in school and out. It didn’t matter how gorgeous or successful they were, you had blinders on. Singularly focused on your plan to take over the food truck world. Yet, with Nicky, you aren’t just stopping and smelling the roses. You’re having sleepovers in a field of roses, drinking rose lemonade, all while wearing your rose colored glasses.” My brows shot up. If it weren’t so poetic, I’d be offended. “Friends? Ha!” she scoffed. “If you weren’t about to move on in a meaningful way, I’d be willing to bet Nicky would have never realized he’s in love with you. Now that he’s trying to figure out what to do with that knowledge, I bet you’re going to see a difference, if you haven’t already.” My heart began beating rapidly against my chest, and for the first time, a seed of hope was born. “Even if you’ve convinced me that my feelings run deeper than friendship, you haven’t convinced me that I’m the woman Nick was talking about.” Evie growled in frustration. “Fine. I was going to save this for my maid of honor speech, but here we are.” My phone pings as she says, “Have a look at this news article.” “What’s this?” I asked, brows furrowing. “What does it look like?” Evie ground out as I opened the message, my eyes widening as I took in the headline and skimmed the article. “The owner of the lucrative Savant Oblique skipped town, following allegations he owed millions of pounds to creditors. Antonov is ruined. He’ll never work in the culinary field again. And look who bought ownership in an auction. Oh, my. Is that the future Mr. Briony Sullivan?” All I could do was sit there with my mouth agape as I stared at a picture of Isaac Antonov, my former boss. The article was dated a month ago. Nearly a month after I told Nick about what happened at my former place of employment. I blinked in disbelief. “Why…?” “…would Nicky, a man who can’t boil water, run off a restaurateur and purchase said restaurateur’s former restaurant in Hyde Park? Oh, I don’t know. I wonder.” Evie’s normally throaty voice, is light as a feather. It’s broken my every argument. “It proves nothing and something at the same time. Let me ask you a question. You said Nicky offered to invest in your business if you stayed another year. Did he say how he would do so?” My brows slam down. “Well, yes, he said he’d fund my second food truck.” Evie pauses. “Did he say ‘food truck’ or something else.” I shake my head with a frown. “No, he said food…” I squinted as I thought back. “He said he’d fund…my second food venture.” Shaking my head, I bolted upright. “No. Evie. No! He wouldn’t do that. Why would he? He knows I’m starting a food truck empire!” “Only he knows the answer to that question. And maybe his future plans for the restaurant have nothing to do with your plans.” As much as I would love to agree I can’t. I know Nick. His sense of justice is a mile wide. I don’t doubt he was behind this. I closed my eyes. “Even if I’m willing to admit I have feelings for him, and that there’s a possibility that he has feeling for me, I work for him.” “Not for long!” Evie replied, voice full of glee. Warmth spread across my cheeks as I clapped a hand to my forehead. “And to think I gave him such a hard time over him calling me, love.” “What?” Evie exclaimed. “He called you what?” I grimace. “Love? I know y’all like your terms of endearments, b—” “Oh, my word!” She interjected. “It’s official! I have to have the boys fitted for their suits.” I frowned, but before I could say another another word, she excitedly began pelting me with words. “I once heard him tell Mum that he would never call a woman love, if she wasn’t his love. Nicky has always had a weird thing about words, because he knows the weight of them, and how they can move people. He only allows himself to use darling with strangers because it’s not something that can be easily mistaken for anything else. But ‘love’ is a different story.” My face is a mask of surprise as she gushes, “And you’re saying that he’s been calling you love? Babe, that’s it. He’s completely gone over you.” I smack my lips trying to work up enough saliva to respond. “Well, it certainly appears that way, Evie.” Evie cackles in delight. “And, just think. I got to hand pick my sister!” I chuckle uneasily. “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. There’s a lot to figure out. There’s a reason why tragedies exist in the world…” “Not this time! Now you just listen to me, Briony. There’s only one way to deal with my brother, and that’s blunt force trauma.” “What?” I laugh. Evie is crazy when she starts planning, but I love her dearly. “That’s right, we’ll have to hit him over the head until there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him as much as he loves you…”← Previous Chapter: Chapter 10 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 12Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 9 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 11“That’s everything, Nick.” I nod, at Alfie, watching his eyes bounce between me and Briony as she sits astride the motorbike across the car park. “Are you sure you want to do this, Sir? Here to Switzerland’s a long ride. Especially for someone who was sick a week ago. You can still ride with me.” Briony crosses her eyes at me as she yawns, and the words of that night come to mind, unbidden. ‘You’re not just my lover you’re my wife.’ I blow out a breath and shift my attention back to Alfie, narrowing my eyes on the older man. “We’re to be married, remember? The least I can do is ensure she makes it to the altar.” Alfie nods, ignoring the sarcasm, as if that statement doesn’t sound completely farfetched. I knew I shouldn’t have answered his question about the wedding colors. The fact that I think he may be on to something, is neither here nor there. I blame Evie. After the trip to Newstead Abbey, my mind had folded itself into an accordion of indecision. I called Evie merely to help me get the creases out. You could have bowled me over with a feather when she crowed, “It’s about time you sorted out your feelings for her, Nicky!” If it hadn’t been for the fact that Evie promised to host a sleepover for the boys that weekend, I would likely still be on the phone. As if the hour and a half she spent trying to convince me to ‘take a chance or remain alone’ hadn’t been alarming enough. Needless to say, there were more questions than answers that day. “Well, see you in a few days, sir. Unless you want me to hang back, in the event of an emergency?” Alfie asks hopefully, his thick brows rising over his dark sunglasses. I shake my head, stepping back from the van. “If we need help, we’ll contact the moto club. You know what to do if something happens.” He nods, and we part ways as I begin walking in Briony’s direction. It’s only been a week since we awakened together in my room. And, contrary to popular belief, sleeping in the same bed does not result in a tangle of arms and legs in the morning. More of a back to back huddle that, while embarrassing, is far less awkward than the alternative. What is awkward? Being sick, and having complete recall over every moment. The terrible moments, like threatening to spank your dear friend and employee, or wanting to run around naked, and dumping water over your overheated body. I’m still trying to find the original scientists responsible for the B12 shot. They deserve a piece of my mind. However, that means I also recall all of the wonderful moments…of which, there are many. I’ve spent the past week picking my favorites, replaying them repeatedly in my head. Being called Nicky boy was wonderful. Nicky love was beyond imagination, and my personal favorite..lover..that one still lives in my dreams. Then, there was Briony’s adorable rambling when she was so exhausted she couldn’t keep her eyes open, but she refused to go down without a fight. Priceless. The feeling of leaning close as she slurred her way through that poem, like a love addled Captain Jack? Well, I’ve yet to recover. And, to hear her laugh as she collapsed in a heap on my stomach, and promptly fell asleep while talking? I was done for. True, waking up the following morning was a jarring experience. Being huddled back to back for warmth was probably the most innocent, and least embarrassing part of the whole ordeal. The way she did the whole morning after scream of shock, while Alfie sat at the desk across from us, sipping his coffee? It’s something I’m sure we’re going to laugh at forever. At some point. Maybe when Briony finally lets us have a talk about it. Then, Alfie decided to do a rundown, while Briony was in the toilet. She overheard Alfie saying if I hadn’t insisted on purchasing the motorbike, I wouldn’t have to spend a ridiculous amount of money shipping it priority to Switzerland. I’d laughed that the fee was perfectly reasonable. However, Briony sprung out at that moment saying that she would just bring the bike herself. I became a bit distracted at how she’d drawn her hair up into a high bun. Yet, as her words sunk in, I sat straight up in the bed. “Do you mean to say you want to ride Doris all the way to Switzerland, love?” I calmly asked, despite the rising alarm. Briony squinted at me in confusion. “Who’s Doris?” My brows lifted off my forehead. “The motorbike love, don’t you remember?” One of Briony’s eyebrows rose in response. “Remember what?” I sputtered as I looked at her in disbelief. “Remember what? You insisted we name the motorbike Doris.” As my eyes widened, she frowned in confusion. “I did?” “Yes, during our conversation last night.” Briony’s confusion deepened as she raised her brows. “We never spoke about the motorcycle, Nick. I know you were probably too out of it to remember—” I looked over at Alfie in shock, as he shrugged his shoulders in bafflement. “—but, you weren’t very talkative last night. You were doing your best imitation of the Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” I rolled my eyes. “No, darling, after that. When you—” I glanced over at Alfie, and when he stared back at me, I cleared my throat, pausing until he excused himself from the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, I took one look at Briony’s bewildered expression, and took her hand. “Do you remember reciting a poem last night?” She scrunched her face, slowly saying, “That sounds…vaguely familiar. It was just before I fell asleep.” She then ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I tried to make it until Alfie arrived…” I waved a hand dismissively. “No worries, love. So, you don’t remember anything after that? Not naming the bike Doris, or giving me a new nickname? Or getting marrie—” As Briony looked blankly back at me, my mouth dropped open as cold realization dawned. Briony really doesn’t remember. I was flooded with such a mix of emotions, that I didn’t notice when Briony removed her hand from mine. It was only when I felt her smooth back my hair with her cool palm on my forehead, that I looked down at her. The concern reflected in her soft eyes rendered me mute. “You don’t have a fever anymore, but maybe you should spend the rest of the day in bed,” she suggested. Despite my displeasure at the thought, she insisted on it. And, since Alfie was able to care for all the details, she then headed for the door to get ready for the day. I sighed and stared out of the window through the trees. Maybe we needed to clear our minds before trying to discuss what happened the night before. I took small consolation in the fact that as she began to walk out of the door, she turned back and smiled. “Doris, huh? I like it. Sounds like a good old reliable woman. Or like the lady with the smoker’s voice from that cartoon movie about monsters.” Briony chuckled, closing the door behind her, while I scrubbed a hand down my face. She’d said the very same words the night before. I heaved a sigh, torn between the relief of not having yet to face what we’d said to each other the night before, and an overwhelming sense of disappointment. Does a confession count if one party doesn’t remember it? I rubbed a hand through my hair in frustration. Maybe it’s not the time. Maybe it should be enough to know how we feel, and just continue to love each other as the friends we obviously are. I’m sure, after a while, even I’ll forget those words. ‘Fine. I accept, Bri. You’re not just my lover you’re my wife.’ She laughed sleepily from her position curled against my chest. ‘Doesn’t that make me, your Life?’ Overwhelmed with the emotion of it, I pretended to sulk. “That may be accurate, but it hardly seems fair, love. You get to be my Life, and I get to be what? The Lusband?’ Her throaty laugh came out in warm puffs as she slurred, ‘No, babe. A husband and lover? That makes you my Hover.’ As I laughed with her, my heart had soared higher than ever. I’d never seen anyone laugh and snore until that moment. Yet, the way Briony managed to do both made me want to draw her closer and protect her—protect this with everything I have. I slapped a palm to my forehead. I’m an idiot. How can I go back to being friends after that? For one hour, I’d glimpsed the other side of this friendship. The answer is, I can’t. Staring out of the window beyond the grove of trees, to the green field just beyond, I felt so empty. The way forward is as unclear as trying to find a way back is ill advised. How do I know everything Briony said wasn’t just sleep talk? I don’t know. Yet, if what a person says subconsciously is anything to go on, then I have ample reason to try to bring us back to the other side. Permanently. That realization made it easy to decide that if Briony’s going to ride Doris across a continent, there’s no way she’ll do it alone. Between the wrap up of shooting in Nottinghamshire and planning, Briony and I outlined the route and planned stops along the way. Now we’re finally ready to get underway. The rest of the cast, and the crew who are left to break down the sets are staying another night and flying in to Switzerland tomorrow night. Briony and I won’t arrive until the day after, on Sunday. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week since the absolute best moment of my life occurred. I remember all of the lost words whispered in the dark...the words that Briony has forgotten. The words that transformed me from a man, unsure if he could love a woman the way she deserves, into a man who is determined to try. Doesn’t that make me, your Life? Even now, her words echo on the gentle May breeze, and renew my determination to see this through. As the bright morning sun takes the chill out of the air, I walk over to Briony, accepting the helmet she holds out to me. Putting it on, I tap her helmet and look her in the eyes. “Ready, my Life?” After a couple of stops to refuel and rest, we make it to Dover by late afternoon to load Doris on the ferry. The trip takes about an hour and a half to Calais in France, and as the white cliffs fall away behind us, I’m quite pleased it’s a sunny day and a smooth ride. When I worry about the significant amount of tourists on the ferry who may recognize me, Briony suggests wearing the helmet, which I do. She’s very triumphant when it appears to work, until some teenage fans spot me when I lift the visor for a drink of water. After a round of autographs, we manage to disappear into the premium lounge before having a bit of lunch. Then, carrying our mugs of tea, we find a quiet spot on an empty sofa to chat. “Do you ever get tired of not being able to just be, without the interruption of your daily life?” Briony asks, after settling in. She’s asked me this years ago, but this time she looks at me intently, the air from a nearby vent causing a few loose curls from her bob to gently wave around. I smile, brushing them behind her ear. “In general, I’m grateful for the fans that appreciate the art of what I do. Usually, I’m not so bothered when it’s about that. Or if a new actor is looking for encouragement to keep going, I’m happy to share tips.” Briony’s chuckle sends a wave of goosebumps over me. “Ok, that was the Nicholas Bancroft, GQ answer. Now give me your answer, Nicky babe.” I sigh as I look out over the water. She’s always been good at getting me to confess my true feelings. Still, it’s a sensitive subject. “Alright, I’ll tell you, and only you. Mum and Dad don’t know this. I’ve not even told Evie this.” Briony dimples are on full display as she laughingly nudges me with an elbow. “Ok, enough with the disclaimers. Spit it out!” I chuckle as I sit my cup of tea down. “So, impatient, my Life, but you’re right. That is the public answer. If I’m being honest, I’ve never been comfortable when the praise is about me. I may be a man who does well at his job, but I’m still just a man. The excessive praise is unwanted, and it’s the reason that I seek my privacy so thoroughly now. Especially since there’s nearly always someone out there waiting to snap a photo without my permission.” Briony wrinkles her nose. “I know it’s a job hazard, but you never seem to have a problem with paparazzi like some other celebrities do.” “They have to make a living, and I respect that,” I shrug. “When I’m out with friends or executives for a meal, it’s a given that my privacy is limited. But, when I’m coming and going from my own home, that’s another matter entirely. I’m still unsure how Alfie has managed to keep them away from our driveway so thoroughly, but I’m grateful.” Smiling wryly, I feel as vulnerable as I had that night. “I don’t enjoy being a spectacle. My characters are one thing, but I, as a boring man who only wants to perfect his craft, am another.” Briony nods, her dark eyes empathetic. “If you were half as fascinating, you’d still have people wanting to get to know you, Nick. It’s the excellence people want to touch, if they can. To know what it looks like, and that it really exists. It’s why people kept buying tickets to see Richard Burton in all 137 shows of Hamlet. If you had the option to time travel, I know with great certainty which matinee I would find you at, without question.” I offer a half smile and a shrug. “We all reflect God’s glory in some way. Not that we ourselves are gods, but I suppose people will always be drawn to that bit of God that can still be seen in us, as imperfect as we may be. At any rate, that’s the disappointing truth. I don’t tire of the interest in the craft, but the enthusiastic attention that’s paid to the mundane aspects of my personal life.” Briony pushes the same errant curl behind her ear as she clears her throat and looks at me askance. “Is it…how do you keep your dating life out of the tabloids? I gaze at Briony as she shuffles her feet nervously, and I can’t help the smile that’s fighting to break out. “Why? Interested in tips? Foresee a need to dodge the paparazzi in the future?” Briony clears her throat. “Well, I do live on your property. Maybe I’m just curious how you’ve managed to keep your relationships out of the tabloids.” I manage to reign in my laughter and pin her with a serious gaze as I deadpan. “So, you’ve finally gotten around to googling me, I see.” Briony laughs as she nudges my knee with her own. “Funny, funny. I’m just curious. You only took Evie to one award show several years ago. Otherwise you attend alone. You’re never pictured with anyone other than your fellow cast members, executives, the family, or me and Alfie. But, you’ve been in the industry for years. What’s your secret? A stack of 50s?” I chuckle, tempted to let her believe I bribe people to keep quiet, but something stops me. If Briony and I are to have a real chance, then this is something we have to communicate about. I take a sip of my tea, a lovely white pear blend that Briony brought with her. As the light, sweet aroma dances across my tongue, I smile. “Honestly, I haven’t been on a date since drama school. It’s not something I’ve even considered…until recently.” Briony had just taken a sip of her tea, and immediately splutters, sending tea flying everywhere. If I wasn’t concerned she’d dry drown herself, I might find it a bit funny. “Wha-what?” She coughs out, waving off my attempts to pat her on the back. “What do you mean, until recently?” I rub my jaw thoughtfully. “Evie’s recently brought it to my attention that I may be ignoring opportunities right under my nose, because I’ve been so blind to the possibility of finding my person.” Briony stares at me like a deer trapped in headlights, and it’s not comforting me in the slightest. “What do you..plan to do about it?” She asks hesitantly, eyeing me over her cup. “Well,” I say, sitting my cup of tea down on the table in front of us. I pin her with a meaningful gaze. “I intend to immediately change that situation. How do you feel about being in paparazzi photos, Miss Sullivan?” She’s barely breathing as she studies my face, but the way the pulse is beating at her throat, I can tell she’s very much alive. “Why—” she squeaks, before clearing her throat. “Why do you ask?” I smile gently. “Well, you do live on my property. I imagine dating will bring a flood of attention. After all, it will be my first, and hopefully only time dating before marriage. I should like to do things on a date that can’t be done over dinner.” When her eyes widen, my smile grows as I add, “Things, like going to the theater. Perhaps going to a few museums to actually see something, and not be seen for once. Maybe strolling through Central Park, and picnicking on the Great Lawn. Or taking a sunset cruise—” “And you expect me to cook for your dates?” Briony interrupts, her words dripping with disbelief. I smile. “You’ll likely be busy getting the food truck going. However, if you’d like to cook, I’ll always be at the table.” Briony scoffs. “And, if I refuse?” “That’s alright with me as well, darling. I don’t mind take out.” Briony looks up at me earnestly at that point, although her voice is nonchalant as she says, “And, this woman you plan to date. You must already have someone in mind. Is she anyone I know?” I smile at her attempt to fish information out of me. I’d gladly tell her, but I want her to have every certainty of my affection before I ask her out. I think as soon as we get back to New York, I’ll invite her to dinner and we’ll talk about it then. For now… “Ah, yes. She’s had several brushes with fame. She’s from New York, you know. Not quite as well known, but she’s been around enough celebrities to not run off screaming.” Briony looks a bit dispirited now, and I feel guilty for not being forthright. Maybe getting back on topic will help. “What do you think? If it were you, would it be hard to get used to this level of celebrity?” “Me?” She squeaks, pointing at herself. She drains her mug and pushes it onto the table. “I’m not famous, and I have no level of celebrity. Unless you count the number of job offers I’ve gotten over the years from other celebrities.” She rocks her head from side to side. “Ok, maybe I’m a bit known in your circles.” My brows immediately rise in surprise. “Well, I’m not surprised someone, or several someones tried to poach you. You are brilliant, love.” She shivers then, and as she shoves an arm into her moto jacket, I help her put it on. “Yes, well. I’ve had years to acclimate to would-be poachers and paparazzi. I’m fine with the distance you maintain with the media. Your future…interest, may not share the same affection you have for peace and quiet. What if she loves to attract attention to herself?” I chuckle. “She wouldn’t. That type of person doesn’t interest me in the slightest.” Briony raises a challenging brow. “You can’t know that until you get to know her.” I raise my own brow, chuckling internally at how cute she is. Briony may be able to withstand people looking at her, but I know for a fact she doesn’t enjoy making a spectacle of herself. “I may not have been dating, but it didn’t make me blind, Bri. I’ve kept an eye on her over the years. No tabloid scandals of her own in the time that I’ve known her. I doubt that will change just because we begin dating.” If she’ll have me, I sigh inwardly. Briony sniffs. “Still, you have no way of truly knowing. What if she’s huge on public displays of affection? What would you do then?” I put an arm behind her on the sofa and lean in. “Are you asking me, how I would feel if my future girlfriend/fiancée/wife wants to engage in PDA with me?” Briony looks up at me, eyes flashing dangerously, seemingly unaffected by our proximity. “That’s right! Are you telling me that you would be OK with that?” I slowly shake my head as I look down at her rosy lips, and back up into her chocolate eyes. The temptation is strong, but I can wait until she’s sure this is what she wants, too. “You’re asking me, if I’ll have a problem with the future Mrs. Nicholas Bancroft showing me affection in public?” Briony inhales sharply then, her eyes roving over my face, skating down to my mouth and back up to my eyes. “Um. Maybe, that was a dumb question.” She sits up to pull her moto jacket off. “They have really got to get control of the AC in here.” I chuckle as I help her. “I’ll be sure to write a strongly worded letter, love. And for the record,” I lean in to whisper. “The future Mrs. Nicholas Bancroft will always be in charge of answering that question. So, it’s not that you’ve asked the wrong question, darling, but more so, that you’ve asked the wrong person.” I pull back as I remove the jacket from behind her, and drape it over mine, next to my helmet. When I turn back, Briony is fanning herself and looking everywhere besides my face. I push her curls behind her shoulder, and gather her hair off of her neck. “That should help with the airflow,” I smile. “W-well, I. Yes. It helps, thank you,” Briony grumbles as she turns a becoming shade of pink. I can’t keep from teasing her. Making sure my face is completely blank, I ask, “What more can I do? Shall I fan you?” “NO!” Briony fairly yells, drawing several looks. She gathers her hair from my hand and pulls it over her far shoulder. “No, thank you,” she says much gentler as she looks down at her hands. Where her face was pink before, it’s now a bright shade of red. I chuckle. She’s never looked more lovely. “I mean, you were worried about me dealing with PDA. I thought you’d see the humor of me sitting here fanning you. You could snap the photo and sell it. Surely, paparazzi couldn’t resist a photo of that caliber. It could only be beaten by a photo of me gently blowing on your face.” She looks at me, and rolls her eyes, but she starts chuckling as she thinks about it. “That is pretty funny.” I smile devilishly. “Isn’t it? On our dates, you can take photos like Peter Parker did for Spiderman. I’ll even let you take closeups.” When Briony slaps me in the arm, but starts laughing, I know she’s over the worst of it, and I start to relax. “You wish, Nick. What am I even supposed to get a closeup of? The most dating you’ve done is that one movie where you had to repeat the day several times. And that was scripted!” I clutch my chest. “Ouch! Just go for the jugular, darling.” Briony smiles coyly. “Oh, nooo. If I were going for the jugular, I’d say dating must look awfully different since your last real date. Are you sure you’re equipped to woo a woman in this century, darling?” I laugh so hard, I know I’m drawing several stares, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Woo!” I manage to get out through my peals of laughter. “Woo!” Briony joins in laughing, as I reach over and pinch her cheeks. She tries valiantly to fight me off, but loses. “From which century is your vocabulary, love?” She’s laughing so hard as she tries to fend me off, that she doesn’t answer for several seconds. Then, throwing karate hands up, she says, “Listen, whatever you do, when you woo, how you woo, the way you do…” I’m falling about in laughter before I know it, and as I turn to cover my face in the crook of my elbow, Briony turns her head and continues talking in my ear. “Like, I said! When you’re wooing your mystery woman try to stick to this century. Send text messages, don’t phone.” Wiping away tears, I ask, “What if she enjoys speaking on the phone.” Briony snorts, “Trust me, she won’t.” “Even to me?” I ask with a grin. Briony eyes me a moment. “Well, maybe. Depends on what you’d have to say.” “Ah,” I nod to myself. Briony looks at me dubiously causing my brows to snap together. “What is it?” “That’s what I want to ask,” she looks at me askance. “What would you possibly have to say that can’t be said in a text message?” I lean closer. “I could tell her how beautiful her heart is. How it’s the first thing I noticed—” “Ack!” Briony exclaims, covering her ears with a scowl. “I don’t want to hear about her heart. Save it for her! What else?” I chuckle. “I could recite poetry to her.” Briony swallows. “Would that be a video call?” “Should it be?” I raise a brow. She sniffs. “She’ll no doubt enjoy that. What else you got?” “What else do I need? I mean, I travel for work. So, I’d have to keep in touch somehow. If things work out, of course I’ll take on less work that would keep me from home for months on end. But even for just a few weeks, texting just isn’t going to fill a long term need for either of us.” She nods. “The man makes a good point.” I shrug. “I try to make a habit of carrying a handful of good points around for just such an occasion.” When Briony looks up at me sharply, I freeze, wondering if she’s remembering the lost conversation. But when she nods and looks out the window at the approaching French coastline, my shoulders sag in disappointment. Upon disembarking in Calais, we’re able to find our little bed and breakfast without a problem. After dinner, Briony watches a celebrity chef competition while I finish the latest Callum Black thriller. He’s one of my favorite authors, and I’m looking forward to playing the detective in his series, Ian Faulk, in an upcoming movie. If I can only get the rhythm of his Scottish accent down. When Briony’s show goes off, we talk about how her food truck is coming along. As she shows me the build process, it sounds like she feels good about where she and her sister are in the process. I couldn’t be more proud of her, and I tell her so. When she blushes, I fight the urge to lean across the little table and take her hand. Instead, I bring up the subject of her continuing to live in the cottage, but she flatly rejects the idea. I can’t see a reason why she wouldn’t. After all, I built it for her. I’ll have no further need for it if she moves. “Well, think about it, Bri. I plan to hire a personal chef to just meal prep for me. It won’t be a live-in position, so the cottage will still be available. Even if you decide to move eventually, you don’t have to do everything as soon we get home.” Briony nods her head from side to side. “OK, I’ll think about that. Thank you.” “It’s the least I can do, my Life,” I breathe. She frowns, “What about your life?” I grin. “I found a poem I think you might like. Care to hear it?” Her eyes immediately brighten in excitement, and I try to ignore the warmth it brings to my chest. “Let me put on the kettle for us first,” she calls as she jumps up. I rub a calming hand over my chest. Patience. Good things come to those who wait. I’ve already waited 40 years for Briony. Surely, I can wait a bit more…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 9 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 11Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 8 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 10Bang! I slam the empty kettle back on the stove, moving the refreshed teapot to the tray. Shaking out a fistful of oyster crackers into a small bowl, I squeeze it on the tray next to the bowl of chicken noodle soup. I’m running down the list of items on the tray when my phone starts buzzing for the 30th time this morning. Answering from my earbuds, I pick up the tray and hustle out of the kitchen. “If you’re calling me again about the thickness or color of your snot, I’m going to come up there, drag it out of your face, wrap it around your throat and choke you with it,” I growl, nodding at the wide eyed cook, Jaime, as I pass him in the small kitchen. A heavy silence on the line, then the last voice I was expecting to hear. “I never thought you’d be into choking, Bri. Congratulations. Whose the intended recipient of such unbridled passion?” I blow out a breath with a frustrated laugh as I pause at the bottom of the back stairs. “The only man in our lives who pays to drive me crazy.” Evie chuckles. “Oh? What’s he done now?” I close my eyes against the headache raging in my temple. “This time it’s what he hasn’t done. I knew he was coming down with something last week. I begged him Evie..begged him to take his echinacea and vitamin C. He refused the vitamins, refused to hydrate, and decided he wasn’t hungry in the middle of the week. Did I mention, he refused to call in sick?” I’m practically shouting, and as a couple of crew members walk past looking at me with raised brows, I take a calming breath and furiously whisper instead. Evie chuckles, but I’m not through. “I actually had to call Alfie on him when he still insisted on going for flight training yesterday.” “You didn’t!” She exclaims, “Ohh, Nick must have been so cross with you!” I raise a brow. “Oh, he tried it. Then, after threatening to put me over his knee, he cried in gratitude when Alfie called to tell him he’d cancelled his flight training yesterday.” A pause. “I’m sorry…what?” I shake my head in annoyance as I stare at the pistachio green wall paper that ascends the back stairway. “That’s right. Cried in gratitude, after threatening me. The one who made sure he wouldn’t end up in the papers due to a very early forced retirement from the land of the living! Did I get a word of thanks? Not one. And you know I wasn’t looking for it. I just want my advice to be heeded. Is that too, much to ask?” Evie clears her throat delicately. “Could we just back up to the ‘threatening to put you over his knee’ bit? Because that seems like a pertinent—” “Do you know he’s made me change his sheets three times between 11pm last night, and 5am this morning? I told him the staff here could do that, and he said, ‘but you’re my person, love. Let’s not wake the staff.’ Like I’m chopped liver! And now, he’s eating bowls and bowls of soup like he’s dying. I’m at the bottom of my second stock pot in 12 hours, Evie. 12. Hours. When Dr. Napier arrived twenty minutes ago, I ran downstairs to check my third pot, and refresh his tray. He may only get sick twice a year, but boy is it a doozy. Alfie can keep his job. I’m unsubscribing.” I swipe the sleeve of my chef jacket across my sweaty forehead with a grimace. “It’s Mum,” Evie says sympathetically. “She spoiled him terribly whenever he was ill. I told her it was going to ruin him for marriage. Looks like that prophecy paid off.” I quirk a brow. “Yeah, except, we aren’t married. All the dirty work, and none of the authority…go figure.” I’m more than a little offended at the deep laughter that comes over the phone. “Not married! Riiight. Sure!” I wrinkle my nose. “Was there paperwork I signed at some point that I wasn’t aware of?” “Oh, come on, Bri. You’ve been work spouses for years now.” I open my mouth to protest when my phone starts beeping for an incoming call. I don’t bother checking. “The Crown Prince is calling. Listen Evie, do me a favor. If he doesn’t make it through the night, I need you to cover for me with Mum and Dad while I escape to the Northern Territories.” Evie snorts. “You’ve been caught up in Chinese dramas again?” I scowl. “What else is there to do between waiting to change bed sheets, and making vats of soup? I can’t even make bread since he won’t eat it.” Evie chortles, “Alright, love. Well take care of you. Don’t let him run you ragged.” I sigh, “Alright. Oh, and Evie? About Braxton and Parker?” “Yeah?” “The world doesn’t need any more man-children. Do better. ” Her roar of laughter is the last thing I hear before hanging up. Quickly climbing the stairs, I make my way to Nick’s room, and tap on the door three times before putting in the key and unlocking the door. “Nick,” I call out, noticing it’s dark in the room. It’s 11am, so the sunlight should be streaming in. When I don’t get an answer, I push into the room as the smell of sweat hangs in the air. Oy vey, did he pass out somewhere? “Nick?” No answer. I shuffle to the desk to set the tray down, turning on my phone’s flashlight. He’s not in either of the arm chairs. The bathroom door is wide open. I spin, flashing the light across the bed, and nearly leap out of my skin when I see him sitting ram rod straight on the settee at the foot of his bed, his only covering being a bed sheet bunched around his hips. “Nick didn’t you hear me calling you? Why are all the curtains drawn? Did Dr. Napier do that before he left?” When I get no response, I walk over to stand in front of him. His eyes are closed, and I can feel the heat rolling off of him before my hand lands on his forehead. “Oh gosh, you’re burning up. Nicky babe? What did Dr. Napier say?” He slowly lifts his phone to me, his unfocused eyes staring straight ahead. I take his phone as I grumble, “You’d better not be playing with me, Nick. This isn’t funny. I’m not falling for this like the time you disappeared for three days and showed up with a fake amputated leg. Or the time you pretended you contracted double pneumonia to get out of that fraudulent fundraiser for Sea Barnacles.” “Water,” his voice comes out crackly as if it’s disused, which I know isn’t the case, because he was wailing less than 24 hours ago. “Sure,” I walk over to the tray, pour him a glass, and return to hand it to him. He then proceeds to take the glass and dump the contents over his head. As water rivulets run from the blond hair now plastered to his head, I stand there in shock, the moment only broken by him extending the glass again. “More.” A tremor of fear races up my spine as I stare into the dark pools of his eyes. They’re nearly completely dilated. “Oh, absolutely not!” I cry out, picking up his phone and holding it up to his face. “I don’t know what quack doctor the production company sent over, but if he broke you, I’m going to find him, and rip his ankle hairs out with tweezers—why is this..not…it’s not unlocking? Really?” I turn the phone around to make sure it’s on the unlock screen, and when it unlocks, I blink at it. I’d forgotten Nick added me a long time ago, and I certainly didn’t expect to see a picture of me sticking out my tongue as his background picture, but when it flips to a picture of a bird, I realize it’s his photo album. “Water,” Nick rasps. “Hold your horses, buddy. Before you and the rest of your alien cohort take over the world, I’m gonna need you to take a five.” I impatiently scroll through his email, but I don’t see anything in his inbox. “Nick? What am I looking for sweetheart? I don’t see anything from Dr. Napier in your emails. There’s no text messages. What is it, babe?” Nick, starts breathing heavier, and I back up to the table to pick up the spoon from the tray as I speed dial Alfie. He picks up on the first ring. “Sir.” “Alfie, it’s me. Listen—” “How bad is it?” His Brooklyn accent automatically soothes me, but then his question sinks in. I open my mouth in shock as I keep an eye on Nick. “How bad is what, Alfie? What do you know? Cause I’ve only got a spoon in here, and I can try pressure points first, but if he gets too violent, I might have to do a bit of damage.” “How bad is the cold?” I stare at the phone in disbelief as Nick whispers, “Water.” I pour another glass of water, “There’s no way this is a cold, Alfie. The doctor disappeared without leaving any instructions or notes. I have no idea what’s going on. I came upstairs after getting Nick some more soup and tea, to find him sitting in the dark wrapped in nothing but a bed sheet, staring into space and whispering for water.” Alfie, lord love him, starts howling in laughter. I try to put the glass up to Nick’s lips so that he can take a sip, but he has other ideas. His hand is hot when he grabs my wrist, forcing my hand up. “No, Nick. Stop!” I cry out, but he doesn’t stop, and I’m helpless to do anything until he’s poured the full glass over his head. He’s shivering now, but he just pulls the wet sheet tighter around him, and whispers, “More.” “Alfie!” I shout into the phone. “This man is doing a really unimpressive Flash Dance reenactment. You’d better get a hold of yourself and start talking now! What in the name of Krispy Kreme have they done to my—to Nick?” Alfie clears his throat. “I’m sorry, kid. It’s just, maybe now you can cut me some slack when I slip him fruit juice sometimes. He’s only got a cold, but the production companies always send the same doctors that tell him to up his vitamin C, before they give him a B12 shot.” I quirk a brow as Nick releases another dry request for water. “He’s not allergic to B12. It’s not listed in any of his information.” Alfie groans. “No, he isn’t allergic, per se. He just reacts very poorly to getting shots. Especially in the er—backside. He goes into a type of shock. Oh, and another side effect is that he runs a fever for a few hours, and likes to pour water on himself.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I was missing some pertinent, need to know information here. We’ll discuss this later, Alfie. What do I need to do for him right now?” “Just keep him hydrated with soup, and tea. Force feed him if you have to. Oh, and keep him away from the water for the next 4-6 hours. If he’s constantly wetting his head, it’s not helping his cold.” My brows shoot up. “And how would you suggest I do that? Pig wrestle him?” I exclaim in exasperation. Alfie clears his throat. “I’ll be there in 10 hours. Just hold down the fort.” I’m silently staring at Nick, who’s still doing his best impression of a pod person, when Alfie’s voice lowers. “Listen, kid. Between me and you, that man will do anything you ask him to do. Just call him Nicky babe, real nice like, and he’ll be eating out of your hand. If you tell him I told you that, I’ll simultaneously disown and disavow you.” I put a hand to my chest. The betrayal runs deep. “Et tu, Brutus?” Brutus laughs his black heart out as he hangs up the phone. I sigh deeply as I turn towards Nick and begin unbuttoning my chef jacket. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get this over with.” An hour later, I’ve managed to wrestle Nick into the clean sheets I’d changed, for the fourth time, via several cleverly placed, Nicky babes, sweethearts, honeys, and darling pleases. I’m not a fan of coercion, but by now, I’ve got a point system in place. ‘Darling please’ is a one. It barely moves the needle, but Nick will make eye contact. ‘Honey’ is just a half step above, because he’ll actually nod or shake his head depending on the question. Sweetheart hovers at a three or four, especially if used in combination with the previous two. Here we start getting a bit of movement, standing positions, shuffling of feet. ‘Nicky babes’ are the mack daddies at a five. Compliance is the swiftest at this level, even for activities that are clearly not favored. When combined with praise, ie ‘You’re doing so well, Nicky babe. Take another sip of tea for me,’ the level up is ridiculous, and there are miracle level results when he cooperates and thanks me. By hour two, he’s eaten, and gone to sleep. But, at hour three, there’s a bit of a problem when he’s determined to take a shower while using the toilet. When I remind him that he still has three hours to go before he can take a shower, or at least, until I plan to stop monitoring his water situation, he turns on the shower. I’m at wit’s end, when several repeated uses of Nicky babe combined with praise does nothing. I am barely able to keep my eyes open, but have to do something. Am I going to have to go nuclear on him? I put my hand on the door and close my eyes, my voice hoarse as I desperately plead, “Hey Nicky babe? Lover? Don’t do this to me, ok? Please open the door.” The door opens so fast, I tumble into the steamy room and hit the floor. Nick stands there looking down at me with wide eyes, clutching the sheet around his hips. The man looks like he was cut from Greek marble, and my eyes take him in as if he’s a newly installed sculpture at the MET. From the time I started working for him, I haven’t watched a single movie scene that involved him removing his shirt. For my own sanity, mind you. I even steer clear of the gym when I know he’s in it, and thankfully, he’s not one of those men who walks around shirtless for reasons only they know. So, now that I’m looking up at all the hard work that he’s been putting in for five years, it takes a Herculean effort to look away. I grimace, as I put a hand down to push myself off the floor. Except one hand is on a towel and…are those his box…no no no! I whip my head back to Nick, who still has that glassy eyed look like he’s in a dream state. I take a deep breath. “Thanks for opening the door, Nicky babe. Now please tell me you have on…” I frown..what does he call his underwear again..ugh. “Pants!” “I’m hot, Bri,” he grumbles quietly. “I know you’re hot, sweetheart—ahhh—” I promptly interrupt myself as words I never imagined coming out of my mouth hang in the air. I purse my lips as I take a deep breath. “You are…but honey..darling? How about this. If you put on your pants, then I will sit on the bed with you and help you eat soup.” “I’m not hungry,” he sighs, resting his head on the wall. I lick my lips as I try to think. “I made a whole new pot of soup for you though. Don’t you want to try some? For me, Nicky babe?” He sighs again like an exasperated three year old, promptly turning towards his room. At least he’s got coverage while he continues to trail miles of bed sheet behind him. It’s a small comfort though, considering his back is also a work of art. Seriously, what has he been doing in that gym? “Um, you left your pants,” I call out behind him. “Don’t need them,” he sits on the settee again, which has dried to some degree, but he will, for sure, be paying damages later. I’m past exhausted at this point, but Nick needs me. At least until Alfie gets here in about—I check my watch—6.5 more hours. Even if I called Nick’s parents in London, they would probably get here about the same time as Alfie, and have nowhere to stay. I groan as I step out of the bathroom. Walking to the dresser, I open a drawer and pull out the first set of boxers I find. “Nicky, love,” I start as I cross to him. “You can’t sit around with no underwear on. Not with me here. So, I’ll just put these here, and hide in the bathroom so you can change into them. Then, we’ll have a bit of soup.” Nicky looks up at me from his perch, but he doesn’t move to pick up his underwear. His golden waves are limply plastered to his head as sweat runs down his face. He looks absolutely miserable, and I’m sure he’s hating every minute of this. I nod, exhausted after being up all night and running around all day. “Ok.” I put a hand on his forehead, pushing his damp hair off of his forehead. Although he’s still warm, he’s no longer burning up. “Ok, lover. If you don’t want to put on your pants, then I won’t make you. I’ll come back in an hour. If you go into the bath—” His hand wraps around mine as he looks at me, whispering, “Please, don’t go, Bri.” Then, taking the boxers, he goes back into the bathroom. I listen for the sound of the shower, but it never comes as he splashes in the sink. Sorry, Alfie, I tried. A minute later, he’s back out, his sheet firmly tucked around him. He obediently sits on the bed and looks up at me. “Alright, baby, that’s progress. Thank you so much,” I offer as I pour soup from a thermos into his bowl. If only I can corral these emotions the way I’m learning to corral him… By the fourth hour, we’ve fallen into a rhythm. Who knew there was a mack daddy of all mack daddies, and its name is ‘lover’? It’s boss level, neither requiring praise, nor other combinations. One gently spoken request coupled with ‘lover’ opens all the doors of the kingdom apparently. I’m the mayor, I’m the King. And because I’m benevolent, there are cooling washcloths, and scalp massages for everyone! I should probably feel guilty, manipulating Nick with all of these terms of endearment, but for one thing, it’s for his own benefit. And for another…I smirk as I stare at his sleeping form on the bed. He should have known that I would get him back for that Byron prank a couple of weeks ago. It doesn’t matter if my eyes still cross when I remember the way his eyes darkened as he stroked my cheek and spoke into my soul the inane words that have haunted my every waking moment since. Ok, I may agree that those words didn’t sound silly at all dripping from his lips, but never out loud, and certainly not within earshot of him. So, am I taking a twisted pleasure in calling Nick, lover, to get him to behave? Absolutely. He should be glad I’m not calling him lover boy after the stunt he pulled. I mean! A girl has a right to not be love bombed in broad daylight. After a while, Nick’s going to the bathroom without starting the shower at all. There’s no more struggles with his underwear, and in fact, he’s put on some sweatpants. He also blushed when I thanked him for being such a good boy. So the closer we get to hour five, the more I’m backing off the nicknames and the praise. Trying at least. It might be easier said than done at this point. It might also have something to do with the fact that I’m catching myself taking 10 second micro naps without my permission. At least Nick’s finally laying on the bed, but he’s just been staring into space. I’ve told stories until my throat is sore. I’m moving slowly, and my speech is slurred, but I’m still on my feet. Crossing over to him, I touch his head as he looks up at me. “Hmm, you’re cooler. That’s good. Are you hungry? Do you want more tea?” He shakes his head, lifting a hand to take mine. “I’m actually cold now. Could I please have a shirt?” My brows rise in surprise. “Sure, let me just grab that for you.” Crossing over to his dresser, I pull out an undershirt and a Henley in case he gets any colder. “How cold are you?” I ask. Silence. I turn around, and he’s under the blankets, looking a bit blue. “Babe, are you, ok?” I ask, without a single thought. Nick looks up at me in surprise, but shakes his head. “C-cold.” As I draw nearer I notice a rattling noise coming from him. “Your teeth are chattering! Here, let me help you put on the undershirt and the henley.” He doesn’t stop me from helping him slip the shirts over his head and tucking his arms in, though as my fingers skim his ticklish side, he stops me from pulling them down, and does it himself. After making sure he’s settled under the blankets, I whip up another batch of my special herbal blend of tea for colds, mixed with a bit of apple cider vinegar, honey, half a lemon, hot water and a peach and rose oolong tea bag. When I pour a cup and bring it over to Nick he takes a sip and grimaces. “Ugh. It’s revolting.” My aching eyes are crossing as I struggle to keep them open, and I’m swaying on my feet. I lift a shoulder as I plop down at the foot of the bed. “Everything tastes bad when you have a cold, but, it grows on you, sweetheart.” Nick shakes his head, trying to hand the saucer back to me. “I don’t want this. May I please have a different flavor?” I shake my head to clear it, resting a hand on his leg over the blanket. “Listen, Nicky babe,” I rest my chin in my hand. “I’ve been up for about 34 hours straight. Momma really needs a nap. Bad enough to crawl in this bed next to you, curl up and go to sleep. Then, what are you gonna do if Momma gets sick because of you? Who’s gonna take care of me? Now—” I shake myself and blink, not realizing my eyes had closed. I force myself to look up into Nick’s widened eyes, hoping he realizes the sacrifice someone has made in his behalf, and gives me the day off tomorrow. “—if you drink your tea, like a good boy, Momma will do something extra special for you. I’ll recite a poem, because I know how much you love poems. OK, lover? Can you do that for me?” I am out of my mind for lack of sleep, but my eyes have drifted shut, so I just listen for the response. “Alright.” I deliriously nod my head after it my chin slips off my hand. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just keep drinking your tea, until it’s gone.” “Briony.” “Yep!” My eyes pop open, to see Nick has sat his cup down on the table next to him, and he’s peering down at me. “I asked where Alfie is?” I blink up at him, my eyes burning. “Alfie? He’s on a plane. Do you need soup? Do you need some crackers? Or more tea?” I yawn. Nick straightens and shakes his head. “I just finished my tea.” “Ok,” I nod, my eyes drifting closed. “Let me just…” I toe off my shoes and climb over him to the empty side of the bed and pull myself up against the head board. Putting my hand on his head, I start to massage his scalp. His little groans must mean he’s still awake. “I don’t know what poem to recite—” I don’t even have the energy to open my eyes. My voice feels like it’s being run through a machine at slow motion, but I promised him this poem. “Ok, Nicky lover,” I not so gently pat myself on the face a couple of times, but it does nothing to get my eyes open. That’s unfortunate…but, we can do this with eyes shut. “You there, lover?” A pause, then, “Yeah.” It sounds gritty, like he’s grinding rocks in his throat. Maybe he’s almost asleep. Good. I’ll recite this poem, and then go to my room for a one hour nap. “Lover?” “Mmhm.” He’s voice is faint as a whisper..he’s for sure half asleep. “Ok, here goes your poem.” I clear my throat in an attempt to banish this slow motion fog I’m in. “Wait, do you know, The Night Has A Thousand Eyes? By Bourdillon?” No point in feeding you what you’ve already eaten, lover. “I’ve eaten—I know it. But I don’t mind hearing it again.” “No!” I throw up a finger in the air, and decide to keep it up there, to remember I’m reciting a poem. Oh, I’m supposed to be massaging his scalp. I manage to find his head again, and start massaging his scalp.“Right, ok. I don’t think I could do Pablo Neruda justice at the moment..” Nick makes a strangled sound as he haltingly asks, “Um, aren’t..aren’t you too young for Neruda?” That makes me double over in delirious laughter. “If I’m too young to recite Neruda, then you’re too old to hear it. Now! Do you know, Lang Leav?” A pause, then, “Hmmm. I don’t think I’ve heard of him.” “Of course you haven’t. Because she’s brilliant, and you’ve been stuck with that stale man, Byron, who is basically Hamlet in a different kind of pants—” “What’s the name of the poem? By Lang Leav?” His voice sounds strained. Maybe I should double the honey in the next dose of tea. He definitely needs that gorgeous voice for work. We just have to get him better until Alfie gets here. “Oh, she has a book.” “Who?” I lurch awake with vast effort, although my eyes are glued shut. I sink back further against the pillows, scooching closer to Nick’s side. That should keep him warm. “Lang Leav,” Nick’s voice cuts through the cocoon that’s enveloping me. I frown as I run a hand through my hair. “That’s right. The poem is called, A Stranger. I love it so much. It reminds me of you. In the good ways. Ok, lover? Herrre we go.” I recite the poem, and then realize, that poem was quite cheeky.There’s a cough. I start giggling despite myself, and when the snorts start, I can’t hold back from laughing. I hear a deep rumble from somewhere under my cheek. “Yes, it’s warm, lover,” I smile, floating on a cloud. “You’re finally warm. Let’s keep you that way…” It’s so quiet. It’s a deep, dark kind of stillness that only comes with the dead of night. I still can’t open my eyes, but I know it’s cold. I feel for the blanket, and realize I fell asleep on top of it. My legs shake with the effort to lift my hips and scoot under the blanket. Cradling my pillow, I turn over, marveling that it’s much plusher than before. The maids must have changed it. Nick! My eyes strain with the effort to open them, but they burn so much, and it’s pitch black. They slam shut. It’s so cold. I draw my knees up to my chest. Oh no, I’m still in my clothes! I must have crawled into bed and passed out without changing. It’s dark. Alfie will come. Alfie will take care of Nick. “Shhhh…” comes a gentle whisper. “Go back to sleep, my love.” I smile as a furnace begins to warm my back. I begin sinking back into a world of dreams, and I’m so warm. It’s finally warm.…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 8 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 10Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 7 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 9Instead of answering, I frown at the pond, all the while noting the heart palpitations her question has given me. Maybe I should be concerned. Perhaps what I’ve been experiencing aren’t butterflies, but signs of heart failure. That makes more sense than romantic ideations at the age of 40, and with Briony of all people…even if there is only an 11 year gap in our age. I’ll schedule an appointment for a full medical work up when we return to London. Yet, as we continue down the path in comfortable silence, listening to the sound of wrens and blackbirds trading their songs from the nearby trees, I’m reminded of another time. I knew nothing about birds until four years ago, when filming outside of Berlin. That was when I caught Briony standing outside of our guest house at dawn, listening to bird calls. When she asked if I knew which bird was singing, I admitted I didn’t know. But, when she smiled and said she wanted to bottle it up to play it at home when she was feeling down, I knew I had to find out the name. There’s no point in discussing how many bird calls I’ve memorized since then. It’s just one of the many ways that Briony has made her mark on me. After this trip, I know I’ll miss the opportunities to explore new things and places with her while filming on location, so I’d better enjoy the time alone now. “Hey,” I say softly as we walk along. “Do you remember running into that nonna in Tuscany, and with your smattering of Italian, you tried to learn where to find the freshest basil and tomatoes in Lucca?” Briony chuckles as a cool breeze gently blows her curls around. “Oh, I remember all right. It was only a couple months after I started working for you. You let me struggle for like 20 minutes as we followed her around that market! Then, what did you do?” “I asked her—” “In perfectly fluent Italian..” she quips. “—if she wanted to make our year by telling us the secret of Tuscany’s tomatoes and produce, since it may be our last time in Italy together.” I grin as I remember how Briony’s face went from confusion, to indignation, much as it’s doing now. Albeit, now it’s softened with a smile of fond remembrance. “Exactly,” she smirks. “Except she thought we were a couple who were parting under unfavorable circumstances, so she made us promise to stay together in exchange for the story.” I immediately start chuckling. “She refused to believe me when I said we weren’t together, so then you just made the promise—” “Only for her to take us to her backyard to pick some produce from her garden!” We burst into laughter, as I grin at her. “At least you were happy when you saw they were heirloom tomatoes!” She nods, her eyes still lit with amusement. “It was only my second time seeing that basket tomato. And, once we got back to the guesthouse and made the sauce with it, between that and the fresh basil, it was truly the—” “—best sauce I’ve ever had,” we finish the sentence simultaneously with a smile. I give her a wink as we round another bend in the path. I don’t know when I went from keeping Briony at arms length to talking to her every day. One minute I was busy running lines, listening to radio dramas, or reading in my room every night, and the next minute, I’m flying through the streets of Bali looking for curry. One day, I woke up, and she was just..there; tightly woven into the very fabric of my existence. I wouldn’t know how to begin untangling her from my life, and what’s more…I don’t think I want to… The sudden pinch in my chest stirs concern, but not for my health. Because that’s when I know, it’s not my physical heart that’s in trouble. It’s also how I know it’s not just fear of losing this close connection with another person, but losing Briony herself that I’m having trouble with. The deep ache that rises in me at knowing this will be our last trip together, leaves me in a desperate, melancholy mood. When we come to my favorite part of the gardens, I stop in a secluded spot bracketed with tall shade trees and a beautiful water feature in a shallow pond. At the moment, I can’t appreciate the sound of water trickling over the stones of the small waterfall as I usually do. Still the sound creates a buffer between here and the rest of the gardens, making the sunny knoll feel more private than it actually is. Anyone walking through the gardens would have to take this path to pass through. However, I can imagine a bygone era, when we might have been the only two people to stumble upon this area for hours at a time. How many have spread a blanket on the same grassy bank near the pond with a good book, or curled up next to their lover? Stepping off the path and crossing to my favorite large shady tree, I unzip my jacket, crawling under the low hanging boughs to lean against the trunk. The sounds are muted here, and when Briony bends down at the waist to peer under the low tree limbs, I beckon her to come. Shaking her head, she also unzips her jacket to stoop down, shuffling forward until she reaches me. “You truly are the most dramatic man I know,” she smiles. When she settles beside me against the tree, I silently point up through the branches. Blue sky peeks through the dark green needles at random intervals, making it feel as though we’re in our own tree house. Briony looks up, and as I watch her soak in the wonder of it, the same peaceful feeling I felt while looking at her in the restaurant returns. Is this what it would be like to share a life with someone? Experiencing the world through their eyes, through the flavors that sing on their tongue, through the sounds that melt their hearts? Is it possible to create two core memories in one day? Or, is today one big core memory I’ll savor for the rest of my life? The notion is shocking, and I’m barely breathing as the idea takes root. Is this what people are seeking when they go on date after date with the wrong person? I take in the sparkle in Briony’s eyes, the curve of her lips as she starts to smile, the excitement that she seems to hum with, even when she’s silent. And, suddenly the story where the princess kisses a hundred frogs just to find her prince makes all the sense in the world. Because the prince..or in this case, princess, is worth it.Briony quietly chuckles, as she lowers her warm gaze to mine. “I can imagine you here as a little boy with Evie, hiding from your parents.” I smile faintly, my mind still whirling from the effects of my epiphany. “Maybe not such a young boy. I was 12 when Evie was born, so I was mostly hiding from her. She really loved talking, even as a toddler. It’s so funny that she complains how much Braxton talks, when she was the same way at the age of four.” Briony looks up at me curiosity in her eyes. “Did you change her diapers?” “Of course.” “Feed her?” “Yes, why wouldn’t I?” I frown, wondering what she’s getting at. Briony squints at me. “And did you defeat her bullies?” I scoff. “Every single one of them. Especially the boys.” “Hm.” Briony nods, as she rests her head against the tree. When she falls silent I tilt my head towards her. “Why do you ask?” In the shade of the boughs, Briony’s brown eyes find mine. “I was just thinking how much time has changed things for you both.” My brow wrinkles as she continues. “You’re still her brother, but your relationship had to change as time went on. She no longer needs you to fight her battles, or physically care for her needs. Now, she’s grown, with her own husband and children.” I fall silent as I contemplate that idea. It’s true, Evie isn’t the little girl I’d done all of those things for. She’s still my sister, and I love her, but she isn’t dependent on me for the same things she did as a little girl. I frown as I stare up through the green boughs. By that reasoning, why do I subject Briony to treatment that I’ve long put away for Evie? Was I playing the overprotective brother card as a shield, to keep me from seeing the truth of the matter? That I’ve felt something for Briony, perhaps for…well, a long time if I’m honest. But, treating her as my sister made it feel ok to..what…be close to her? I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the water trickling over stones as I give this serious thought. I’ve spent the last eight years talking to her, nearly six as her employer. Never once did she feel unrelatable, or make me feel our life experiences were too dissimilar. All excuses aside, I’ve just been ignoring this growing attraction. Why? Because it was safe? What am I really afraid of? Losing her friendship? If I remove the idea of losing her in my life, just what keeps me from dating Briony? When I open my eyes, Briony has turned to look at me, and lifting a hand, she wipes something from my hair and returns her hand to her lap. She turns back towards the water, softly humming a tune, as I look up. Staring at the boughs above, I think about the day that’s brought me here, to this moment, and the answer is abundantly clear. Nothing. There’s nothing stopping me from seeing if her feelings run in the same direction as mine..and perhaps pursuing something more. Something I’ve never imagined for myself. Briony’s warm, quiet voice surprises me when she hums, “It’s beautiful here. It would be nice to be married somewhere like this. In a quiet garden, just family and close friends.” Were it anyone else, the subject jump would have alarmed me. But it’s Briony, so I nod slowly in agreement as we watch the ducks lazily swim by. “Do you think about your wedding day often,” I ask, curiously. “Not…usually.” She clears her throat and goes quiet. I can feel there’s something being left unsaid, and curiosity gets the best of me. “What colors would you choose?” Briony shrugs. “I don’t know. Doesn’t that depend on the season? Although…if I’m being honest, I’m partial to the idea of navy blue and magenta.” She pauses, thoughtfully chewing on her lower lip. “Maybe I’d have to go with wine instead of magenta though. I think that would work better with Evie’s hair.” My stomach swoops with the knowledge that this woman is willing to change her own wedding colors so Evie would fit in. Somehow it’s right. It’s just what Briony would do. It takes everything in me to keep my voice neutral. “Interesting color choices. Those colors work with my coloring, too for the record,” I tease. Briony rolls her eyes. “Who says my future husband is going to allow you to be in the wedding? You might be relegated to honorable guest.” My immediate scowl is met with laughter. “You should be so fortunate to have me in your wedding party, you ingrate.” Yet, her laugh is always contagious and before I know it, I’ve joined in. “Would you serve fish or beef?” I ask when the laughter subsides. She chuckles, “Well, since you’re conducting a survey, what do you think?” My face scrunches in thought. “Hmm. Knowing you..both.” She nods. “You’re so right. And a red velvet cake with cream cheese buttercream.” She laughs when I groan. She knows it’s my favorite. “What, no Victoria cake? What ever will Mum and Dad think?” I tease. “They can argue the merits with my Mom and Dad over coffee,” she chuckles. As we laugh, Briony throws her head back, the setting sun casting its golden beams through the boughs of the tree, lighting up the red tones in her curls. Her dark eyes brighten in the rays with flashes of gold that mesmerize me with their mischief. She’s absolutely stunning, and as I hold my breath, I wish I could freeze this moment forever. Pulling out my phone, I flip the camera around and snap the picture of us. “What are you doing?” She exclaims, throwing up a hand. “Taking a picture for posterity,” I say, snapping another. “Whose posterity? I have helmet hair!” She exclaims with a laugh. “Do not!” I laugh, snapping a burst of shots with her trying to cover her face with her hair. She eventually ends up sticking her tongue out, before we collapse against each other laughing. Eventually falling quiet, the call of the birds who like to wake up for dusky evenings begin to sound. It reminds me of a poem, and I can’t help reciting it in the silence. “There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, there is a rapture on the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more.’” Briony blinks at me, her lips parted in wonderment. “Even I can admit it’s a lovely piece.” I chuckle as I stretch out to lay in her lap. “Tell me you don’t like Byron without telling me you don’t like Byron.” She chuckles as she shoves at my shoulder. “You know I can’t help it. Georgie Boy just seems like a man who never truly came to know love. He never lived it because he was too in love with himself.” We’ve been down this road before, so I just shake my head as she continues. “Think about it, Nick…” “Right,” I scoff. “The man who said, ‘And then there are such things as love divine, bright and immaculate, unmixed and pure, such as the angels think so very fine, and matrons, who would be no less secure, platonic, perfect, just such love as mine’? He never knew love?” She shrugs with a quick laugh. “Sounds purely observational to me. ‘Like the measles,’” she recites in a slow, stuffy English accent. “‘Love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.’” I chuckle as she concludes, “Does that sound like someone who has an intimate knowledge of the subject, Nick?” “And what…you do?” I quirk a brow, taking pleasure in the agitation that dances across her face. Briony swats my shoulder again. “I didn’t pretend to be the greatest poet of my era. Just do me a favor, and don’t love me the way Byron loved. Constantly reaching for love, and never having the fortitude to close his hand when it’s within his grasp. I submit that Byron is a poser!” My mouth falls open in wide eyed shock. I know we’re talking about Byron, but I have never felt more called out. “You take that back!” I sit up, but before I can grab her, she shuffles out of reach. “I absolutely will not!” She laughs, ducking from beneath the tree. I chase after her, and though she’s light on her feet, she isn’t quick enough. She shrieks when I finally wrap a hand around her waist, and we both tumble onto the grass in a fit of giggles when someone nearby says, ‘Did you hear that?” When I realize she’s laying on my arm, I lean up to slide it from beneath her. But, when we make eye contact, that now familiar electricity zips through me, accompanied by an ache of longing. Reaching down, I skim a finger under a curl that’s laying on her cheek and sweep it aside. Looking into Briony’s chocolate and gold eyes, I’m suddenly moved to recite more poetry. “‘She walks in beauty, like the night,’” I whisper over the nearby trickle of water. “‘Of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect…and her eyes.’” I gently sweep a finger over one of her brows as her lips part. “‘Thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress,’” I murmur, running my fingers through the curls I never knew were so soft. “‘Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure…how dear their dwelling place.’” I pause one beat, two beats, before sliding my finger over a dimple. “‘And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent.’” I pause to lean closer, inhaling her peach and sweet tea scent, and nearly get caught in my own performance when I see the desire in her eyes, and realize I want to kiss her. My mouth goes dry and I sit up with a loud laugh, badly shaken by the realization. “You should see your face,” I laugh, using every skill I have to cover my raw nerves. “Byron. A poser!” I collapse in a heap of laughter, grateful for my acting skills, but still unable to bear continuing to watch her expression travel from desire to confusion, to disbelief. I actually guffaw while pointing at her. “Take that you Byron hater!” Briony recovers magnificently, and I’m relieved when she laughingly swats at my shoulder. I roll over and leap out of the way, as she playfully pouts up at me, before jumping up. “It wasn’t the words! It was the delivery! Any decent actor worth their salt could recite a McDonald’s menu and still steal the breath away of an unsuspecting audience!” I genuinely laugh this time, accepting the high praise despite the wrapping it came in. “Ah, so it wasn’t Byron who stole your breath away, but me?” I tease. When she tries to shove me, I laughingly pull her in for a side hug as we begin walking towards the motorbike. During the ride back to the guesthouse, I’m only half paying attention as Briony chatters nonstop. One recurring thought continues to distract me. Do I want to convince Briony to give us a chance? Can I? I have no clue what I’m doing. A handful of dates nearly twenty years ago just doesn’t equip a person for something so high stakes. Am I really considering it? If I were 6 or 7 years younger, would I still ask that question? So, why is it a question now? I silently begin ticking off my reasons for holding back as we round the corners on the rapidly darkening road back to the hotel. One, she’s my little sister’s best friend. Which is actually irrelevant according to said little sister. I choke back frustration. Two, I’m still her employer. Not for long. Three, I literally put a roof over her head. Seems like you’re already half way there, old chap. Right, but what if…the problem is me? What if I’m not able to be what Briony needs in her life? I groan, forgetting I’m on the comms, and Briony immediately stops chattering. “Are you, ok, Nicky babe?” She asks running a hand over my chest, causing my eyes to cross. “Just peachy, love,” I grit out through the surge of electricity in my belly. Just…great…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 7 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 9Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 6 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 8When the door to Briony’s room opens, despite my anger, I brace myself for the ever present kaleidoscope of butterflies. They don’t fail to impress upon seeing her fully kitted up. “Keys?” I ask with my hand out. She huffs as she unzips a pocket on her moto jacket, and drops the motorbike keys in my hand. “Thanks,” I say, nodding toward the stairway. Without another word, we swiftly descend the stairs, passing through a side door to step out into the sunshine and her waiting Honda Gold Wing. It’s a large bike for Briony, but with the amount of lorries passing through these country roads, I need her to stand a chance of being seen. It’s bad enough she still hasn’t told her family that she rides motorbikes. I have every confidence she can handle it, but there’s no way anything can happen to her on my watch. Pulling our matching black and blue helmets from the top box, or trunk space as Briony calls it, I hand hers over without a word. After getting our gear on, I slide on my gloves and take a seat, waiting for her to climb on behind me as I start up the bike. “Can you hear me?” I ask after linking the comms. “Clearly,” Briony responds dryly. It’s the same joke every time, but it still makes me smile. Annoying since she knows I’m upset. As I back out of the parking stall and pull into the street, I’m unprepared for Briony’s hands to settle at my waist. Correction, the butterflies were unprepared, and now they’re rioting. This is far from my first time riding with her. During a film shoot for an action movie about three years ago, I was required to do some minor stunts on a motorbike. I’ve been riding since I was 18, but wanted to make it look as natural as possible, so I bought a bike to get a ride in every day. During the first month of the four month shoot, Briony questioned me endlessly about riding, until one night after dinner I offered to take her out on it. I thought she’d be like Evie and decide after one ride it was too scary, and give up. I should have known better. All it took was one ride and my little daredevil was in love. After a couple of weeks of her tagging along on my nightly rides, she begged me to teach her how to ride. It was the most harrowing three days of my life. Thankfully, she got the hang of it quickly. Now, I daresay, she rides better than I do. Still, if her hands had felt like this wrapped around me when I took her out for those first rides, she may have never learned to ride. As it is, I’m wondering if it’s a mistake to bring her along. Instead of thinking about it, I focus on steadying my breathing as I open up the throttle on the empty country road. “Where are we going?” Briony’s warm voice comes over the comms a few minutes later as we pass the film set at the airfield. “Just need to clear my head.” My voice sounds strained to my own ears, and I can only hope she chalks it up to what happened back at the hotel. She falls silent, but her hands tighten around my waist, which makes me want to simultaneously pull her closer and jump off the bike. Eventually the quiet hum of the motor and her soothing presence calm my mind enough to enjoy it. We’ve been cruising through the green English countryside, passing through small towns with the crisp air flowing around us for some time before I realize we should get dinner. After another 20 minutes, I pull into the car park at a pub. “Where are we?” Briony asks, using my leg to keep her balance as she climbs down. “Nottingham,” I respond crisply as she pulls off her helmet and fluffs her curly bob before stretching. “Why?” She frowns, looking around at the little houses on either side of the street in front of the short white building that houses the pub. I look away as I pull off my own helmet. “Because I fancy some chips, and I don’t need the judgment the crew would likely have if they saw me eating them.” Her brows rise incredulously. “I’ve never known you to break your diet, and besides that, you don’t care about other people’s judgment or criticisms. So, what gives?” “Well, there is one person’s judgment and criticism I fear a great deal,” I sigh. “Let’s get inside first.” After removing the rest of my protective gear, I lock it away with Briony’s in the top box. Holding open the pub door, we enter the dated establishment with its wood tables, grey cushioned chairs, and colorful carpeting. The abundance of windows allows the warm afternoon sunlight to splash around the semi full dining room, and as I direct Briony to a table, pulling out the chair for her, I can feel the eyes of the other diners on us. “I’ll just see the barman,” I mention, dropping my jacket on the back of my chair. After speaking to the landlord and signing a couple of autographs, I return to the table with the menus. I barely hear the buzz of other diners as I notice Briony’s removed her fitted jacket to reveal a soft red sweater beneath. It matches her lipstick. I blink. Was she wearing that before? Come on gang…the least you can do is flock together, I think, glancing away as I try to breathe through the flutter in my chest. Handing her a menu, I sit across from her, staring blankly at my own. We’re just having a bite to eat, like we do nearly every other night of the week. We’ve eaten out before. Plenty of times. So, why does this feel…different? “So,” Briony leans forward on an elbow with a raised brow and cheeky smile. “Explain yourself, sir. How long have you been cheating on me?” A couple of heads nearby spin round at that, and I smile, knowing she’s trying to get a laugh out of me. “I thought you cared about my reputation, love. Do you plan to smash it to smithereens after so painstakingly building it up?” She laughs, her dimples winking at me gaily as she shrugs her shoulders. “Cheaters never prosper.” I chuckle and lean forward. “Fair enough, but you should know, as my chef, I would never cheat on you, Briony. Cheating on a diet is fair game though. And I’ve been completely responsible.” Briony’s cheeks grow pink, but she chuckles. “Define how you’ve been responsibly cheating on your diet?” Uneasily running my hand along my jaw, I consider the question. “Well, no late night calls to room service, and it’s usually only once or twice a year I’ll crave a burger and chips. Usually when you’re on vacation, and I get…peckish,” I finish abashedly. As she sighs, shaking her head, Briony quickly fluffs her curls the way she does when she’s annoyed. “How many years?” I frown, thinking back. “I’d say about…three years now.” She’s considering me thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing in concentration. “So, around the time I went on that family cruise, and you decided to go to Monte Carlo and got sick?” I sit up, clearing my throat. “It was a stressful trip. And, I got sick eating some chicken yogurt dish with raisins in the rice.” “I remember,” she says dryly. “But, the point is, that’s when you started cheating?” I lower my head, like a chastened pet. “I’m sorry, Bri. If it makes you feel better, I never enjoyed it, and always felt guilty after.” She ducks behind the menu, covering her face. “Yeah..so guilty you kept doing it for three years, and hid it from me.” “I won’t do it again,” I smile. Her head snaps up, the laughter evident in her face. “What? Cheat on your diet?” “No, I have needs,” I smirk. “But, I’ll always tell you from now on.” “The cheek of this one!” Briony playfully cries out. We both throw our heads back in laughter, and this…this is it. I’ve been missing this easiness between us. When the server shows up with a pot of tea and two cups, ready to take our order, Briony looks at me curiously. After we place our orders, I begin pouring our tea. “While retrieving the menus from the landlord, I ordered it,” I answer her unasked question. “The Lavender Vanilla sounded quite nice, and I could really use something calming right now.” After accepting her cup, Briony waits a beat before putting a hand on mine. Seeing our two hands together sends something diving in my stomach, but, I can’t focus on that at the moment. So, forcing my eyes to Briony’s face, I focus on her velvety brown eyes instead. “I’m really sorry we had that disagreement earlier,” she dips her chin sorrowfully. “I heard what you said, and I think there’s something you should know.” Gazing at her intently, when she hesitates, I gently rub the back of her hand with my thumb. “Go on, love. I’m listening.” Briony sighs. “I agree with you. I don’t enjoy being spoken to that way, but I endure it. I’ve endured a lot because I don’t want any seeming lack of professionalism on my part to cast a bad light on you. I would feel terrible if my inability to keep my mouth shut meant you lost out on meaningful opportunities.” Everything stills in me at once. She’s been taking abuse so that I’m not negatively affected? But, why? I frown, but remain silent as she continues. “I now understand that isn’t what you expect of me, or want. And, while I’ll do my best to maintain my professionalism, just know if you hear any wild stories about me and my mouth in the future, it’s all your fault.” That same mouth quirks up in a beautiful smile, but I can’t bring myself to return it. I’m properly horrified. “Bri..I had no idea you thought you had to sell your dignity, so that I could keep my reputation in tact. I’m glad you’ve told me, but I wish you told me sooner. Then, I would have told you that you’re never to sell your dignity—for anyone.” Nauseated by thought, I shake my head in disbelief that she would do such a thing. “There’s no job opportunity on Earth that’s worth being mistreated over. Neither yours, nor mine. If someone can’t see past the end of their nose, and would rather hold us over a barrel to make themselves feel good, I suspect we wouldn’t want to be associated with them in any meaningful way to begin with.” Briony’s eyes widen as she gazes me, looking awestruck as the impact of my words wash over her. She dips her chin in acknowledgement, and we go back to sipping our tea. I think the subject’s dropped until she quietly says, “Thank you, Nick. For always dignifying me.” I grimace as I shake my head. “No, love. Your dignity belongs entirely to you. God gives you dignity, it’s not something I bestowed on you. I’m merely upholding it.” The tender look she then gives me brands me to my core. I’ll never forget it, even if I don’t fully understand what it means. When she returns to sipping her tea, I do the same, while continuing to ponder that look. For the first time in weeks, I realize the butterfly gang is no longer a scattered buzz, but they’ve become a flock of starlings. Synchronized. Sure. It’s an interesting development. Does it mean this phase almost over? Will we be able to return to normal? There’s plenty of time to ponder it until our food arrives. Unlike being in London or anywhere in America, not many seem to recognize me in this quiet corner of the world, or if they do, they don’t let on. So, I settle back and soak in the enjoyment of a quiet dinner with Briony. As she stares out at the garden, a delicate smile plays at the corners of her month as she sips her tea. From my own taste of the tea, I know it isn’t a superior blend, so that isn’t what has her smiling like she has a secret. Just outside of the window, as the sun hovers over the horizon, two brave hawfinches swoop down from their perches high in the surrounding trees, to sip at the small stone water fountain in the garden. The garden is already in bloom with its blue, red, pink and yellow flowers, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the woman sitting in front of me. It’s a peaceful moment, and as I quietly sip my tea, drinking in Briony, I realize I want this. I blink. I mean..I want to keep this. When I look up again, Briony’s gazing at me as if she can savor me, too. I’m filled with a certain rightness of the moment, and if it weren’t for the arrival of our food, I’m sure I could have sat there the whole of the evening wondering if forever were possible. After a lovely dinner where I fought off the Chip Pirate Briony, we head out to capture what’s left of the day. I thoroughly enjoyed my cheeseburger and chips, as well as the scoop of Beef in Guinness Briony was forced to concede as reparations. She had the last laugh though, as I was forced to watch her groan over how good her caramel and apple pie was, while I nursed a second cup of tea. We laughed so hard when I tried to steal her last bite, and she hurried to dodge, shoving it in her mouth. I had to be satisfied with the tiny drop of caramel I was able to swipe from the plate. Briony then forced me to allow her to pay for dinner, stating it’s a mark of true friendship. When she insisted that my paying wouldn’t be anything different from what we always do, I finally agreed that it’s only acceptable when done in commemoration of our friendship, but not as a habit. She just winked over her shoulder as she stepped into the spring sunshine. As her arms slip around me once again, I nose the bike onto the road, knowing exactly where to go next. It’s not another 20 minutes before we pull onto the Abbey road, and into a parking space. “Where are we?” Briony asks. I smile behind the shield of my helmet as she once again uses my leg to dismount. “This is Newstead Park.” Taking off my helmet and packing my gear away, I point to the stone building rising near a stand of trees. “That’s Newstead Abbey. Lord Byron inherited this place as a lad, but he spent most of his life elsewhere,” I hasten to add. Briony fluffs her curls after pulling off her helmet, but stops mid fluff with a frown, her gaze swinging to mine. “Wait, the Lord Byron?” I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Yes. Old ‘Georgie Boy’ himself, as you like to call him.” Of the countless hours we’ve spent discussing poems and their famous composers, I most enjoy the times when we disagree. And, there’s always contention when discussing Lord Byron. “I said what I said,” she sniffs. A bark of laughter erupts from me, drawing disapproving looks from several visitors. I just laugh harder. “Come on, let me show you around,” I chuckle, offering my arm. I don’t know why I do, nor do I know why she accepts, or why it feels right. Rather than question it, I just allow myself to enjoy the peaceful stroll through the substantial gardens. While dodging the peacocks in the quiet, green estate, I point out various features of the property. Usually when we’re in England I’m filming in London, with very little time for venturing outside of the busy capital. It’s been a pleasant change to visit the countryside again after many years. As we leisurely stroll through the different gardens, some parts manicured, others overgrown, I tell Briony about the many times Evie and I have been here with our parents. Briony laughs at tales of our escapades, occasionally asking questions. “Is it typical to travel around visiting places like this on summer vacation?” Settling my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket, I fondly smile at the memories of my childhood. “Hmm. I don’t know about typical, but when your Mum is a renowned scriptwriter for period dramas, and your Dad’s a professor of literature at a prestigious university, I think it’s to be expected.” She looks up at me, a twinkle in her eye. “It definitely explains this inexplicable love for Byron.” I chuckle as we amble into another section of the gardens. “Dad passed on a love for most of the romantic poets, including Byron. I may not respect some of Byron’s life choices, but I can respect his passion. I’m glad Dad tried to pass it on to me.” Briony nods with a straight face. “Ah, so then I suppose you’ll bring your children to Disney World, and Universal Studios…” We chuckle, but I shake my head. “No. I ended up in movies and TV series, but my first love is theater. If anything, my children would end up being dragged to plays on and off Broadway, to the West End…wherever good drama is to be found really.” Briony smiles serenely. “They’ll definitely share your enthusiasm for it.” As we stroll along, I then fall silent, pondering where I would be getting the children I’ve never given a single thought to before this moment. When Briony’s eyes light up at a duck in a nearby pond, the desire to wrap an arm around her washes over me, but forcefully shoving it down, I stop with her as she gazes at it thoughtfully. “I remember you saying how much you love theater. When was the last time you were in a play?” she glances at me. “What, haven’t googled me, yet?” I tease, my brows raised. “I thought that’s what you Gen Z-ers do first.” “Ha!” She scoffs with a smack to my arm, “First of all, I did google you, but it said prehistoric files haven’t been converted to digital at this time.”I pinch her cheek and laugh when she playfully rubs her cheek disgustedly. “Second of all, my poor elderly friend, I’m actually a Millennial. I was born in ’96.” My brows shoot up as my mouth forms an ‘o.’ “Well, that certainly changes things.” Briony eyes me sharply. “Does it?” Why would it? I pause…should it? ← Previous Chapter: Chapter 6 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 8Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 5 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 7Nick is going to hate this. The country house turned hotel and restaurant that we’re being housed in by the production team is very quaint. Yet, as the late afternoon sunlight spills onto the thin, pale pink and cream striped walls of the dining room through several windows along one wall, even the cheerful interior can’t distract me from the irritation rising in my chest. I shift on the balls of my feet as I glance around the small, crowded area. As I suspected, all eyes are on me and Amelia, for what feels like the umpteenth time this week.This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Over the past two weeks, Amelia has found various ways to put herself in Nick’s line of sight. Unfortunately, more often than not, it’s put me in the crosshairs as well. I don’t know if she believes the way to a man’s heart is through an enemies to lovers trope, but she’s failing abysmally at the ‘to lovers’ part. As she shows up everywhere, with overeager eyes and sultry innuendos, all she’s managed to do is get Nick to vow to never work without a trailer again. To keep calm, I focus on the newly bloomed pink and white flowers in the garden outside, as Amelia continues to passive aggressively tell me why I should make her dinner. She’s not even assigned to this hotel. Why is she here? Strike that. Why am I still here? Lifting the dinner tray I set down on a nearby mahogany tabletop when she intercepted me to ‘ask a question,’ I take a deep breath. She works with Nick. Be cool. You’re a professional… “It just doesn’t make sense that you’re here to cook for just the one person. You’re taking up space in the hotel that could have gone to another paying guest,” she pouts in her gratingly arrogant tone. Ah. There’s the rub, as Nick would say. This isn’t her first time bringing up that fact. She’d better be glad Nick is at flight training today. If he’d heard that, he’d be livid. Lifting the tray, I quirk an eyebrow in irritation at the willowy blond dressed in yet another miniskirt and cropped green sweater. “As I said before, Miss Raglan,” I calmly respond. “I’m a privately engaged chef. Where I stay isn’t up for discussion. Now if you’ll excuse me.” As I try to go around her she blocks me once again. Smiling imperiously, she tosses her corn silk mane and looks down at me from the couple of extra inches she has on me. “Now, Brandy, there’s no need to be rude. I’m merely suggesting, since you’re taking up the space that could have gone to an actual guest, you could be of better service to the rest of us. If it’s a matter of money, I’m sure I can afford to pay you for your time.” The smile fades from my face. This tray is getting heavy, and if she doesn’t move, she’s gonna find herself nursing some bruised shins. “My name is Briony. Now, Amelia darling. Kindly step aside.” She shrinks back, a hand to her chest in horror. The way the tears spring to her eyes, you’d think I assaulted her. “How dare you speak to me this way? Honestly, Nicholas, your staff is being quite inappropriate.” My back stiffens when I notice the shift in the room, as all eyes swing behind me. There’s a distinct charge in the air, and ignoring the electricity that zings through me, I focus on taking a breath and remaining calm. The deliberate clip of Nick’s boots on the hardwood floor stops just behind me. I don’t bother to look up when I feel his warmth at my back. I can sense the annoyance coming off of him. Oh, brother. Heaving a sigh, I return the tray to the nearby table as I wonder how much he’s heard. Chancing a peek up at him, I nearly swallow my tongue. From the hard set of his jaw, to his windswept blond hair, and the hard blue orbs glinting down at Amelia, I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe again. Until I look at Amelia, who’s looking up at him just as dumbstruck, like this is part of a movie. She’d better wake up… “Briony, Miss Raglan. What seems to be the issue?” The irritation in Nick’s deep voice isn’t lost on me, but Amelia doesn’t appear to notice. As she points at me, like I’m a defendant in the Salem Witch trials, she cries out, “Your staff is behaving quite indecently! I merely asked her to also make me a bit of dinner, but she behaved as though it were perfectly beneath her.” Nick exhales quietly. “Why would you ask my chef to cook for you when there’s a perfectly good restaurant here for your use?” Amelia arches a blond brow. “I hadn’t realized there was anything wrong with directly asking the staff to do their job, Nicholas. Perhaps, I should have rung a bell first. Would that have been more to your liking?” My head whips around at that. Who is this chick, anyway? And, just what is she implying exactly? Nick runs a knuckle along my spine, and all of the spark goes right out of me. Yes. Wait, what? Since when do we do that? It must have had the intended affect, because when I forcefully exhale, he just as quickly drops his hand and continues to calmly address Amelia. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with making requests, and, when you’re addressing the staff, I doubt I’d have anything to say. Briony, however, is not staff. So, you have no need to address her at all.” Ah, just great. Nick heard quite a bit I guess. I grimace. If he gives me another lecture about not letting people walk over me, I’m suing her. I roll my eyes when Amelia scoffs, “Well, if she’s already cooking—” “Let me be clearer, Miss Raglan,” Nick interjects, his voice low enough that only the three of us can hear him. He steps closer to me, so that he’s brushing against my back, and I make like a statue. “Briony doesn’t work for you, nor does she work for the production company. She belongs to me, not anyone else.” A strangled sound gurgles in my throat as I mutter, “Well, not belongs-belongs. I mean slavery’s been over for like 160 years…in case anyone was wondering…” At Nick’s sharp intake of breath, I glance up at him. His gaze is completely focused on Amelia, and despite a small twitch of his lip, he doesn’t otherwise indicate he’s heard me. My gaze swings back to Amelia, and I immediately want to wipe that haughty look off of her face. It doesn’t seem to faze Nick, however, as he continues. “Briony is one of my closest co-workers. We work as a team, and she’s quite highly esteemed in my eyes. To disrespect her, or any member of my team, is to disrespect me. I think you should apologize, Ms. Raglan.” Her eyebrows and my own rise, though for different reasons I imagine. “For what?” Amelia loudly asks, taken aback. “How was I to know that you aren’t interested in sharing your staff-er, coworker’s labor? You paid for her to come all the way here. Did you expect everyone to know it was so that she could purely be in your service?” I suck in a deep breath and take a step towards her. How dare she insult Nick’s character that way? I’m opening my mouth when Nick’s hand grips my shoulder. I look up at him sharply, ready to go through him if need be to readjust her way of thinking. Yet, when I see his face has gone from unpleasantly annoyed to stone cold, I sigh. He’s livid, and I’m not even sure my teasing can fix it. Nick chuckles softly, and quietly says, “I am quite certain I didn’t ask your opinion, darling. So, just the apology, if you please.” Amelia shrugs, her nose in the air. “Well, whatever. I just figured if I wanted an American dish, who better to make it than an American. I’m sure I can find other staff to help me.” Nick nods sharply, his eyes never leaving her face. “You’ve survived this long without it. Now, please apologize.” Amelia looks around at the crew for support. They’re practically falling out of their chairs trying to catch the whole conversation, but a quick survey of the disgusted looks on their faces proves she’s on her own. She flings a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever. I apologize, Nicholas. Alright?” Nick frowns. “Not to me, to Briony.” I look at him askance. Usually, he has a quick word with the offending person, and it’s resolved as a misunderstanding. If he’s going to start demanding apologies, he might be labeled difficult to work with. Doesn’t he care about his image? She blanches, her eyes skating from his face to mine, and back. “You’re not serious?” “Quite,” Nick grunts. Amelia’s gaze swings to mine, and as she takes a deep breath, I recognize something new reflected in her eyes. Anger. “I apologize, Briony. It won’t happen again.” “Thank you,” I say, sincerely hoping she means it. “What did you make for dinner tonight, Briony?” Nick asks. I glance at him in surprise, noting his frown with a raised brow. “Mint, radish and walnut salad, lemon, leek and coriander seared halibut, and grilled asparagus.” Nick nods and looks back at Amelia. “Have you dined already, Miss Raglan?” There’s calculation behind Amelia’s look of pleasant surprise. “Well, not yet, but dinner sounds lovely. After all, it is my last evening here.” Even as her lips curve up in barely suppressed victory, I’m rolling my eyes. Nick curtly nods toward the forgotten dinner tray. “With my compliments.” Turning to the group in the dining area, he raises his voice. “Sorry, about the interruption to your evening everyone. The first round at the Nag’s Head is on me tonight.” As a loud whoop goes up from the cast and crew, Nick takes me by the elbow and gently escorts me up the back staircase. When I open my mouth to crack a joke, one look at his stormy face has me firmly slamming my mouth shut. When he stomps past my room, and puts the key in his door, my brows shoot up. “What are you—” “Not out here,” he growls, pushing through the oak door. Oh brother..here it comes. Nick is about to step into his overprotective brother mode again, and I’ll have to sit through another lecture. When I was all alone in London and Evie and her parents took me under their wing, I made them my family. Even this guy by extension. Recent, troubling feelings aside, I know he’s overprotective because he cares about me. Is it only as a brother? Sure, I guess. A couple of moments a few weeks ago would suggest otherwise, but there were many more normal moments than the heart stopping, dry mouth, pearl clutching moments I’d experienced. Do I wish it was because he discovered some feelings of his own? I’m not sure. Is it a conflict of interest since he’s my boss? Absolutely. Yet, he’s also a friend. I get a pass when I tease him and annoy him to death. He gets a pass when he’s lecturing me about standing up for myself. It was a fine arrangement until some butterflies moved in and complicated things. I just need to get a grip. Stop daydreaming, and focus on my job and the work I have to get done for the food trucks every night. I’ve been in Nick’s room plenty of times in the past two weeks, usually to drop off or collect his dining tray, laundry or other odds and ends. Occasionally, I’ll sit on the settee that runs across the foot of the large, dark wood canopy bed, as we run lines. The cream wallpaper with its leafy red climbing vines, adds charm to the bright room decorated with framed oil paintings and old embroidery. I still prefer my cozy cream and mint room, but with a couple of sitting areas, a large dresser with wardrobe, and private bathroom, Nick’s room is far larger than mine. So, why does his room seem to shrink when the door closes behind us this time? Nick escorts me to the armchair next to the desk. “Have a seat,” he grits out irritably. As soon as I stumble into the oversized chair, he storms over to the wardrobe, silently flings open the door and hangs his jacket. I know this music. Whoever speaks first is the loser, and I have no intention of losing. Not when it means another lecture about not caring about my own dignity. I can recite it alone thank you very much. I don’t need it in surround sound. Yet, when Nick tosses out a grey henley, a pair of motorcycle pants, and matching black motorcycle jacket with the same blue stripes as mine, I forget myself. Nick’s been riding longer than me, so if anything, the motorcycle kit he gifted me a couple of years ago matches his. I’m just surprised it has made an appearance on this trip since he doesn’t have a motorcycle. “What are you doing?” I ask, eyes bouncing from him to his kit. “What am I doing?” He quietly scoffs, slapping a hand on his chest. “Why did you let that girl walk over you that way?” I’ve gone and done it, now. I sigh. “Nick, it’s not a big deal. I was handling it. I’ve told you before, I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. I do just fine when you aren’t around, you know.” He frowns as he sits on the settee across from me, kicking off his leather boots and roughly peeling off his dress socks. “You call standing there holding a tray of food while Amelia castigates you in front of the crew, ‘handling’ it?” “I wouldn’t call it ‘castigating,’ per se,” I offer hesitantly. “She just has a love of airing what she thinks are grievances. I was fine.” Nick narrows his eyes. “So, she’s said something to you before?” I look at him askance. “Sure..but I’ve held my ground.” He jumps up, pulling his black sweater over his head as I will the heat rising in my cheeks to disappear. Relax. I’m like 99% sure he would never… “And, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” I add reassuringly, as he yanks his dress shirt out of his pants. “It’s certainly not worth ruining your reputation over.” His head snaps up, blue eyes ablaze as he quietly says, “I think that’s for me to decide. You’re always more worried about my reputation than yourself. Downstairs you were willing to go to war when you thought she insulted me, but for yourself…” Nick pauses, his eyes burning a hole through me as he deliberately speaks again. “No one is allowed to speak to you that way. I don’t care if it’s the King, Tom Trip, or the grand CEO of a magical entertainment company!” I take a breath, forcing myself to focus on the conversation and not the butterflies that seem to be a permanent part of my life now. “That’s wild considering you know all three of them, Nick, and especially since at least two of them have signed off on your checks. And, while those are some interesting choices, as your employee, I doubt I’ll be meeting any of them anyway. You don’t have to worry.” I venture a cheeky smile, yet, Nick’s scowl is fierce as he works his jaw. My brows shoot up when he silently swipes his pants and shirt off the bed and stalks into the bathroom. Slowly exhaling, I sink back against the chair. This is worse than the time with that handsy actor in Munich. Nick had the nerve to be upset with me for waiting until I was out of sight of the rest of the cast before smashing that guy’s hand with the edge of a serving tray. If memory serves, he pretty much said the same thing about not enduring anyone touching me without my permission, and telling him when I needed help. I was forced to sit through an hour long lecture that time. Fluffing my curls in frustration, I get up to return to my own room, vaguely nodding to other crew as I pass them in the hall. I’m not saying Nick’s wrong. I do bite my tongue, but it’s frustrating when the reason I do it is less to do with me and more to do with him. Heaving a sigh, I cross through my cheerful mint colored room to the cupboard, pulling out my own motorcycle kit. Over the years, I’ve seen Nick in a lot of moods, however, there have been a few new ones on this trip that leave me more confused than ever. Now I guess I have to add another. Non-verbal. Well, that’s a problem, I frown as I begin changing clothes. So, what do I do now?← Previous Chapter: Chapter 5 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 7Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 4 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 6 No, that was definitely the wrong line. I’m gazing longingly at the shady stand of trees at the edge of the old military airstrip when Stu mucks up his lines again. To be fair, it is unseasonably warm today. I lift my head to take advantage of a slight breeze that picks up as I ponder a picnic beneath the trees. That would be nice. I wonder if Briony will stay to have lunch with me today. “Confound it! I can’t seem to make heads or tails of this thing!” Stu exclaims again. Turning back towards my co-star I step closer. “We’ll get there in the end,” I give him an encouraging nod. Stuart Billingsley is an older actor with an incredible body of work. It can’t be easy for him to stand in his wool RAF greatcoat on such a warm day, dressing down a lad, who only cares about flying. “Rubbish memory now,” Stu grumps, his rotund frame shaking as he taps a foot, frowning at the cue cards. The first AD reads off the line again, as I do my best not to recite it aloud. It’s only the third week, and our second day here on set at a retired Royal Air Force base. No point in making any enemies just yet. I glance up at the fluffy clouds, trying to remember what I learned in flight training about cloud types, the winds—anything to distract me from the heat in my own wool uniform. We manage to get through several takes of the scene, before sitting down as angles are discussed and changed. I hear her, before I see her. The smooth throttle of the Honda hums along so faintly, that most people wouldn’t notice it. I only notice because it’s Briony. Ever since that night three weeks ago when I gave her a massage that left me wanting more, there’s been a new energy between us. If I have to describe it, I would call it ‘being in the heat of panicked retreat.’ When Alfie saw me step out of Briony’s room, he decided 1am was the perfect time to discuss my intentions towards her. I assured him I was clear in my purpose to remain friends, yet he laughed in my face. I didn’t know the man was physically capable of laughing, but here we are. Earlier this week, after seeing us to the lodgings here in Nottinghamshire, he pulled me aside and indicated we needed to talk. Apparently, he believes Briony and I have ‘danced around the subject’ for long enough, and a wedding is imminent. So, he’s in the process of securing the arrangements for next summer, including time off from any filming activities. At first I laughed in the poor man’s face, as he’s clearly delusional. Yet, no amount of reasoning would change his mind. He may have had the last laugh though, when he asked me to think about my wedding day, then imagine who I pictured myself speaking with at the reception. It’s not something I’d ever thought about before, but I ran through my core list of family and friends to humor him. Then, he asked me to describe the bride. One look at my dumbfounded face, and he knew exactly who I imagined. I protested it was because I don’t know anyone else, but it was useless. I couldn’t explain it, but I told him that proved nothing, and refused to give permission to plan a wedding. Alfie then laughed in my face as he left the room, telling me I have until 1 May to decide on the colors. He’s demented enough to do it, too. This is despite the fact Briony is avoiding me. Maybe avoiding is too strong a word. She has been distant around me, and I can’t say I’ve been any better. Yet, where it seems she’s entrenched in embarrassment, I’m struggling to put together two coherent words around her. The day after our midnight heart to heart, I apologized for putting her in an awkward position. My desire to be more supportive shouldn’t have meant forcing her to talk before she was ready. Briony thanked me, and said it would be better to just put the whole thing behind us. I couldn’t agree more. It would be far better to forget that conversation entirely… Clearly, we have two differing opinions of what that looks like. While my version means figuring out how to support her in new ways, Briony seems to think it means staying out of my line of sight in the foreseeable future. I haven’t had a single conversation with her longer than five minutes that didn’t revolve around food. And, exact opposite to what I’d hoped, I’m missing my dear friend in ways I didn’t think possible. Then, there’s the personal internal havoc that night has wreaked on me. I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve read enough books and been an actor long enough to know there’s a chemical reaction when seeing someone you’re attracted to. So, yes, I’ve managed to admit to myself that I’m clearly attracted to Briony in ways that go beyond friendship. A minor oversight on my part, that has become a problem since I led her to believe my only interest in her is brotherly. I may have been deluding myself into thinking my feelings were only friendly, but after that night on the sofa, my feelings have been distinctly unbrotherly. Meanwhile, the sensations in my chest and stomach could stop traffic. It actually does, in fact, become traffic stopping when I physically lay eyes on the woman. It’s the reason why I listen to her approach on the motorbike she insisted on having, with a mixture of excitement and nerves. I already feel it building, and just the thought of getting to talk to her sends my chest into spasms. Some might think that sounds worse than it is…it isn’t. The dates I’ve been on in the past were neither initiated by me, nor repeated. The experiment was conducted a few times for research purposes, and the data supported one fact. Dating is not something I enjoy, so I haven’t pursued it further. Not to discount others’ experiences with it. I merely believed any mythological ‘butterflies’ belonged to the special people who enjoyed the awkward dance of finding life partners. While acting, I can replicate what I think it must feel like to be in a relationship with a person, with varying degrees of success. It only seemed far-fetched that a person you have affection for could internally affect you so greatly. Walking into walls? Incoherent speech? Must be an act. And, now these very real butterflies are simultaneously ruining my life and giving me a futile hope that something more could develop. Futile because it can’t go anywhere. Even if Briony’s actually a year older than Evie, and therefore only 11 years younger than me. That fact changes nothing. Despite this rebellion in my chest, it’s more important that we remain friends, so she can continue living in the cottage. Something that won’t happen if I rashly act based on these butterflies, and they disappear as quickly as they arrived. The very worst of it, though, is I can’t talk to Briony about any of this. We’ve traveled nearly everywhere together in the past six years. Over countless meals, we’ve spoken about nothing and everything. I hate to think that by attempting to create the same type of space for her that she creates for me, I ended up driving her away. I heave a sigh. I’m completely at sixes and sevens, and maybe I can still figure this out without having to call Evie. But first, duty calls. We shoot the scene several times before they call for lunch. On long shoots like this one, Alfie usually hires a camper van for our use on location. Briony comes to the filming location, cooks in the camper and cleans up before leaving. On this trip, because Alfie isn’t here, she’s also responsible for shopping the ingredients and stocking the van, making her busier than usual. It’s the reason why she hasn’t stayed for lunch since we arrived, but I’m hoping to change that today. Like a laser, I lock in on Briony as soon as I turn around, and I’m disappointed to see she has already changed out of her chef’s jacket. Instead her black moto jacket dangles over a shoulder as she gives me a nod. Walking towards her, I take in her moto kit. She’s quite fit in the black and blue striped trousers paired with her moto boots, her dark curly bob brushing the shoulders of a white long sleeved shirt. Would it be inappropriate to give her a hug to break the ice? Instantly, the rage of a thousand butterflies is unleashed in my gut, causing me to falter a couple of meters short of her. All I can do is breathe through it until it passes, putting one foot in front of the other. I don’t know at what point this gets under control, but I hope it passes soon. Briony looks up just then, and when our eyes meet, the something that keeps zinging between us gets bigger and louder. Forcing out a breath, I stride over to her. “Not planning to run, I hope.” My voice dives without my permission to a previously underutilized level of deepness. Is this a feature of some gene that’s unlocked once your body identifies a mate, whether it has your permission or not? Is Briony going through the same thing? She’s just staring up at me oddly, without answering. Did she hear it, too? Tilting my head, I ask, “Are you ok, Bri?” She clears her throat and licks her lips, and before I can get myself sorted, she says, “It’s the first day I’m seeing you in the uniform. You look really good. I mean—it looks really good on you. Blue has always been your color.” Her voice has taken on a light and airy quality, and yes, alright. The butterflies have upgraded to the diamond package, just shredding my insides. Afraid she’ll leave if I go straight to the camper van, I linger. “Would you like to sit a while?” I ask, gesturing towards the nearby craft services tent, with its assortment of drinks and snacks. Briony slowly nods as she looks me up and down again. I swallow. If I don’t get control of myself, I’m going to go mad. “Right, well, let’s get you sorted, maybe a bottle of water.” Reaching down, I take her hand, and almost immediately drop it. Having realized my mistake, I lead the way to the tent, and sit her down at an open table. Pull yourself together man. As she distractedly looks around, I fetch a couple of bottles of cold water, and manage to avert my eyes so I don’t get distracted watching her watch me return to the table. When I get back, I open a bottle, handing it to her. She thanks me as I begin unbuttoning the jacket of my uniform, revealing the white shirt that must be more limp than crisp at this point. As I sweep off my jacket and loosen the tie, I sigh in relief when a cool breeze hits me. I happen to make eye contact with Briony at that moment, who in turn, coughs up water, her eyes bulging as she stares at me. Straddling the bench, I pat her on the back, and when she begins breathing again, I can breathe as well. Her cheeks turn pink, which unfortunately, is quite adorable. I rest an elbow on the table and prop my chin on a fist as I drink her in for the first time in weeks. She’s eyeing me sideways, but I’m just glad she hasn’t run. “What’s wrong with you?” She mumbles into her bottle. I smile. “Nothing. I’ve just missed you. I’m glad you’re staying.” Her mouth opens to form an ‘o’, but before she can say anything, I see Amelia, the cast member that’s playing the female lead, approaching us. Amelia’s in her mid twenties, but with her impressive credits with Masterpiece, the production team leaped to cast her. I’m sure her long blonde hair and green eyes didn’t hurt either. She’s only here for two weeks to meet the rest of the cast for team building before she’s off to Switzerland to begin filming in three weeks. Something about Amelia’s wobbly gait catches my attention, and when she trips on nothing, I realize immediately that it’s a stage fall. Unfortunately, her cup of Coke doesn’t understand it’s a joke, and I only manage to get my hands on Briony’s shoulders before the contents splash over her. The noisy tent goes quiet as my eyes flash to Amelia in annoyance. She’s apologizing, but she doesn’t appear sorry. “I’m sure it was an accident,” Briony grits out after shooting out of her seat, pulling the shirt away from her body. I quickly knock the ice off, trying to control my displeasure. “No, it was a terrible joke,” I snap. I doubt it was meant to be funny, but with months of shooting ahead, I’m choosing to hold my tongue now, and have a chat with the AD later. “Please get some napkins,” I say to Amelia, who continues to stand there, dumbly holding her now empty cup. Thankfully, a catering assistant runs over with napkins. As Amelia takes a number of them to wipe at her cup, I grimace as I thank the assistant, and collect the remaining napkins. But upon turning back to Briony, I realize her shirt is white. Heavens. My eyes snap up to her surprised ones as I reach behind me for my military jacket, and throw it over her to save embarrassment. “Oh, that caught you proper good, didn’t it?” Amelia smiles apologetically. “But, Nick, aren’t you worried about your jacket? It’s likely to be a right pain to clean, darling.” As I stand, turning to address Amelia, I firmly say, “My name is Nicholas.” “I know it well, darling,” she says in a suggestive voice, winking for good measure. Ugh. It’s going to be one of those shoots. “I’m sure you’ll be more careful to mind your step in future,” I grit out. Amelia slowly nods, her face all surprise as I turn away sighing over a fairly cross Briony. She’s gritting her teeth as I escort her away, once again holding in her anger. It annoys me to no end, the number of incidents that happen to Briony when we’re on location. If she’d just give people a piece of her mind like she does when we’re at home, half the incidents would never take place, or repeat themselves. I’ve stepped in every time, yet women grow bolder. Besides my ire, I just don’t understand what people hope to gain from treating her that way. As it is, I’ll have to keep an eye on Amelia in case this isn’t a one off incident. In the meantime, Briony must be very uncomfortable. I consolingly pat her on the shoulder. “What a wretched thing to do. I’m sorry, love. I have a spare shirt and trousers in the camper.” When we reach the black van, heading past the tiny blue and cream plaid sitting area, kitchen and washroom, I pull out a drawer from beneath the bed. Retrieving a t-shirt and black joggers, I bring it back to where she’s still standing in the dining area.She grimaces as she accepts it. “Maybe I should just grab my jacket and head back to base.” “No! Please don’t!” I balk. “I’ve been looking forward to eating with you again. Please, stay.” Briony looks up at me, her face softening as her peach fragrance fills up the enclosed space. “Ok, but let me tell you. That woman lost her whole soda, and it’s traveled far and wide.” When she frowns in disgust, I bite my lips to contain my smile. “The washroom is at your disposal. I’ll leave you to it.” Changing in the van provides privacy, but there isn’t a utility closet for laundry. For the first time in my career, I find myself wishing I had opted for the flashy trailer I’m usually offered. Stepping out of the camper, I close the door and head over to the wardrobe tent to give the team there my jacket to be spot cleaned before shooting resumes. After a detour at the craft services tent to retrieve Briony’s things, I’m closing the door of the van just as the washroom opens. When I see Briony, I can’t help but smile. She has the joggers rolled down at the waist and rolled up on the legs. She’s adorable, but I know she’s only concerned with the shirt she’s got on. She scowls up at me playfully. “You just happened to have this in your van, eh?” “What? It’s about the Nottingham cheese riots. Of course, I thought of you,” I grin with a shrug. She chuckles, holding the dark green shirt away from her body. There’s a wrinkled brown wheel of cheese with blue veins running along the top. Beneath it, the caption reads: ‘Wanted: Nottingham Outlaw for a Stilton Cause.’ Briony releases it with a disgusted snort. “Har har.” She loathes stilton cheese, always complaining it’s too sharp. I laugh out loud, pulling on the hem of her shirt. “What? You’re adorable, and the cutest outlaw in the whole forest. You’ll have no issue with the sheriff.” If looks could kill, I’d be evaporated. I swallow a chuckle. “How long did you spend thinking up that one?” She grimaces. “No time at all, because it’s absolutely true.” Her cheeks brighten and this delights the butterfly gang, so I do what I can to appease them. Reaching out, I push her hair behind her shoulder, and when her dark eyes lift to mine, as if she’s waiting for an answer only I have, it takes me a moment to breathe. “Well,” I rasp, my voice sounding hoarse to my own ears, “Let’s eat.” Picking up her wet shirt and trousers, I pull a hanger from the cubby, and hang them to dry in the tiny shower stall. When Briony gingerly sits her motorbike boots in the stairwell, I wince when I see the fizzy drink still on them. “Have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the dining table, where my lunch sits in carefully packed bento boxes. As she takes a long drink of water, I tie an apron around me to protect the rest of my uniform and wash my hands. “Well, what do we have here?” I exclaim, doing my best Jerry Seinfeld impression as I sit down and open my lunch. “A sandwich! This is special. I can’t tell you the last time I had ham.” Briony gives me a side eye. “There’s no ham.” “You don’t say. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Well that’s ok,” I wink. “I can’t tell you the last time I’ve had olives.” She smiles, rolling her eyes. “There are no olives,” she chuckles. “You don’t say!” I go on, eyes wide, as I examine the sandwich. “Well, that’s ok. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve had cheese. Maybe a good wedge of stilton?” Briony finally laughs, and I chuckle when she waves her hand at me. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.” “Well, say bub,” I deadpan, lifting a brow. “Just what kind of sandwich is this, anyway?” She chuckles. “It’s a meatball sub, using only ingredients that would have been available to you in 1943.” “Very nice,” I nod. After I push a bag of sliced fruit towards her, I pull out a salad and begin eating. Briony points to a small soup flask sitting on the tiny stove. “Don’t forget your soup.” “Well, well, well. What have we here, love?” I quirk a brow. She smirks. “Your favorite…potato and leek soup.” My eyes swell to the size of grapefruit. “Truly?” She grins, flashing her dimples as she nods. “Really. I even added some crumbled bacon. Enjoy, Nicky babe.” My stomach drops as I gaze at her. Her eyes widen slightly. “What’s wrong?” I clear my throat, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “There’s only one sandwich. Help me split it?” While she slices the sandwich in half, I stand to soap up a rag in the sink, before retrieving her boots. I have to do something about these butterflies, or I won’t be able to eat another bite. “I can do that later, Nick. Don’t you want to eat?” Shaking my head, I reach under the lounge seat to remove a bottle of leather conditioner from a bin. “I’ll eat in a bit. Enjoy.” After giving her boots a proper wipe down, I sit them in the shower to dry. “I feel so bad,” Briony wryly smiles. “You didn’t eat much.” “What do you mean?” I smile, as I wash my hands at the sink. “I’m completely satisfied. I savored every bit of it. It was delicious, thank you.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re too good to me, Nick.” “You think that’s something?” I snort. “Just wait till you see…” Our eyes connect then, the playful words dying on my lips as I find myself unable to look away. Either the butterfly gang has learned thermodynamics, or electricity has just passed between us. As Briony’s rosy lips part, I inhale sharply. We’re in a great deal of trouble, mate. “Nicholas!” Stu’s voice cuts in from near the front of the van, startling us both. Taking a shaky breath, I slide the door open to see his salt and pepper quiff blowing in the gentle breeze. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you…” Stu looks between me and Briony with his brows raised. I wave at him, and drinking down my favorite soup without tasting a drop, I hastily make my excuses to Briony. Slipping off the apron, I scoop up my half of sandwich, and speed off towards Stu without another word. I need to get my head on straight. He looks surprised as I steer him away. “If I’d known you were having a bit, I wouldn’t have—” “It’s fine,” I say abruptly, shaking my head. If I don’t get my head out of the clouds, the next few hours will be murder. Doing my best to clear thoughts of Briony from my head, I focus on Stu. “Now, what’s the trouble?” I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich. I barely hear him as the flavor of basil and oregano explode across my taste buds. I groan in response, knowing I’ve already failed. This is going to be a long day…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 4 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 6Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 5Nick’s question and piercing blue stare bring me back to reality. “Um, let me gather those thoughts.” When he doesn’t drop his intense gaze, I shake my head to clear it. “I’m..not sure I can put it into words at the moment. Give me a moment to think about it. In the meantime,” I sit up to face him as I drumroll on the sofa. “Tell me about the series you’re here for. I’ve gotten bits and pieces from doing the scene readings, but let’s hear the whole story. It can be the short version since you have to be up early in the morning.” Nick smiles in response, his eyes searching mine. When he sits forward and begins in his ‘theater’ voice, I know it’s going to be good. “Alright. I play the adult version of a Royal Air Force Wing Commander named Rafe Brendan Edwards. It’s set in July 1943 during World War II, with flashbacks to other periods of the main character’s life. He’s just a young man who loves to fly, so despite being in a hurry to join the RAF, as a result of going out on so many bombing runs, Rafe has been suffering from a crisis of conscience. Sometimes their target is right on point, other times it isn’t, and civilians are killed.” “In the middle of this crisis, his squadron is called up to do a bombing in Italy. Due to bad weather and lack of radio contact, their crew gets lost over Switzerland, and they’re attacked by the Swiss Air Force.” “Rafe prays to God to do the right thing, so the least amount of people die if their plane crashes. Their bomber is hit, and as it’s on its way down, only Rafe and one other airman are able to safely eject.” “The plane crashes into the side of a mountain and detonates, killing those onboard and leaving a crater in the mountain, but the large town below it is largely spared. Rafe doesn’t find out until much later, but he’s the only survivor from that bombing run.” As I gasp, drawing both hands to my face in anxious suspense, Nick comfortingly pats my knee. With him telling the story, I should have known it would be dramatic. Now, I’m so invested, I barely notice his hand as he continues in his mesmerizing English accent. “As the weather is poor, Rafe isn’t able to make anything out from his parachute, but he can tell he’s headed for the forest on the mountain below. So, he prays again. He no longer wants to kill people, and if dying is the way to make that happen, so be it. He’s leaving everything in God’s hands. At that point he slams into a tree and blacks out.” “When he wakes up three days later, he’s badly injured. He was recovered by a Swiss sheep farmer named Annika, who runs the farm on her own after her father died in a bombing incident a few months before. She trusts no one, especially him. Due to being cut off from imports, the Swiss government relies heavily on all the farmers to produce as usual, and in addition, to plant as many potatoes as possible for the welfare of the nation.” “At first, Annika isn’t interested in helping him. Yet, when Rafe admits that he was a soldier, but he no longer wants to fight because he doesn’t want more people to die, Annika hires Rafe as a potato farmer. As he heals, he becomes stronger, and he’s able to help her with the farm.” “They overcome other challenges, eventually falling in love. But when Rafe finds out where and when Annika’s father died, he has to make a decision. Whether he’s going to stay on that mountain living as a coward, or if he’ll sacrifice everything to go home and tell people that fighting, killing, it wasn’t God’s way, and that’s why it just led to more bloodshed.” Nick eyes me with a little smile, “You look sleepy, Bri. Are you sure you don’t want to wait to see what happens?” I reach over, pick up my spoon, and hold it up to his face. “Don’t make me cut you! Tell the story!” Nick’s deep laughter fills the room as he swats my hand. “Alright, alright! When Rafe makes his decision to go back, Annika realizes she loves him, and she’s come to rely on him. She knows the war could drag on for several more years, and she doesn’t want him to rot in prison, or die trying to return to England. They fight, but ultimately he chooses to leave, to be the man God wants him to be, but also the man she needs him to be.” Nick’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “You already know the end.” I scowl at him. “If you cheat me out of this ending, I’ll turn all of your pajama bottoms into shorts.” Smirking, he shakes his head. “You are such a menace. Well, right. Rafe leaves after their fight, and manages to make it back to his squadron, where he finds out they lost 13 aircraft the night he disappeared. Many airmen died that night, but many more civilians died when they were accidentally bombed. This gives him the courage to tell his story in the court martial.” When Nick playfully pauses for dramatic effect, I poke him in the ribs, and discover something utterly delightful. “You’re ticklish!” I laugh in amazement, as he giggles and flops backwards. I poke him again, and when the same thing happens, but he more violently jumps away, I smile wickedly. I can’t help but laugh when he crosses his arms and shoots me a dirty look. “Don’t even think about it, or you’ll wake up covered in chicken feathers!” He squawks when I get closer. “Ha! Then finish the story!” I grin. Nick smilingly shakes his head, but continues. “Rafe goes to prison for three years, and serves his full term despite the war being over. When he’s dishonorably discharged, the series ends with him having made his way back to Annika in Switzerland.” “Wow,” I lean back to stare at the ceiling in awe. “What an amazing love story. Love for a woman, yeah, but also, love for people and love for God moving a man to stand up for what’s right. And, despite being just one cog in the machine…it’s so unlike any other role you’ve played.” Nick ducks his head, thoughtfully nodding. “When the time comes to retire, I don’t want to only be known as an action star, but as a serious actor.” I abruptly sit up. “Is that why you’ve been reading those World War II books? I thought you just found the history interesting. You’re trying to find the people! To find their stories..what made them tick.” Surprise registers in Nick’s eyes as he lightly flushes. “That’s right.” Nodding, I flop back against the throw cushions scattered on the deep seated leather cognac sofa. “Well, that’s an incredible story of love and faith. Is it based on a true story?” He shakes his head, his blond waves flopping to the side with the movement. “It’s fiction, but inspired by real events. Those bombing runs were real, and many civilians really died during that particular operation.” I sadly shake my head, but when Nick nods in my direction, I know the jig is up. It’s my turn. “So…” he sweetly cajoles, picking up my hand and giving it a little shake. “Why did you cry?” Exhaling heavily, I pull my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around my legs. “Sure you don’t want a quesadilla? I can add a potato…” Nick’s ears turn a dull shade of red, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he reaches down, pulling my feet onto his lap. “Hey!” I say, trying to snatch them back. But, he’s firmly got both ankles in one hand, a devilish glee dancing across his face that I really don’t want to test right now. “Behave, Bri. Or should I figure out if you’re ticklish this time?” I go completely still so fast, he starts laughing like a maniac. I try to snatch my feet back, but he’s quick and strong. “What did I say would happen?” He asks, holding up a long finger to the bottom of my foot. Now I’m laughing while still trying to scramble backwards, but he refuses to let go. “Didn’t I say behave?” He touches his finger to the bottom of my left foot sending a bolt of electricity so strong up my leg, I nearly fling myself off the couch trying to get away. “Wait! Wait! Please!” I beg through my laughter. “I’m sorry—look. Let’s just talk about this. Use your words, Nicky babe!” “Still trying to get away, darling?” He laughs. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, guess we have to go with the other foot!” “Nooo!” I gurgle. I’m crying in laughter, and when he touches the other foot, all I can do is launch myself straight up, to a sitting position. The surprise registers in his eyes, but before he can figure anything else out, I start tickling his sides until he laughs, finally releasing me. I collapse backwards on the couch in a heap. “You cheater,” he rasps through his laughter. “Punishment will be reserved for a later time.” Just when I think I’m safe, he grabs my ankles once again, but he holds his free hand up in the air. “Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?” “What?” I laughingly exclaim as I try to scoot back as far as possible. One yank and I’m sliding back where I started. “Ok, sir! Ok! I’m listening. Don’t worry, I always negotiate with tickle terrorists. We can discuss this calmly.” He’s trying to hold on through his laughter, but his grip loosens. This time, I’m taking absolutely no chances. I stay stock still until he pulls himself together. Sure enough, his grip tightens, and as I stare up at him, I hold my hands up in the air. “I surrender. How can I assist you sir?” Nick rubs an ankle, but it doesn’t tickle. “Why were you crying?” When I silently blink at him, he moves his hands to my feet, gently squeezing. It immediately calms me. “What is it, Bri? Tell me.” I exhale as he applies a bit more pressure. “Hm. I just had a small existential crisis. AKA a mini breakdown.” He doesn’t say anything as he continues to apply varying pressure to different parts of my foot. That feels amazing, but I clear my throat and press on. “I just realized I’m going to be 30 next year.” Nick freezes a moment, but carries on without a word. While I silently debate what to say, too embarrassed to spill everything to him of all people, he continues applying gentle pressure. “I think,” he murmurs, compassion lighting his gaze as he looks down at me. “We’re beyond second guessing ourselves at this point. I’m completely committed to supporting you, in what ever way you need. If you want to talk, then talk. If you don’t want to talk, then don’t.” My mouth twists in indecision as he continues. “Either way, I’ll understand. You’re very much more to me than my chef and nutritionist, Bri. And, I think, if you’re willing to admit it to yourself, you’ve also known this for some time. You’re as close to me as Evie is, and I hope, no matter what changes in the future, you’ll remember that.” I frown thoughtfully as I look away from his piercing gaze. Did I just get sister zoned? After the weird day we had, it makes sense that Nick wants to be clear on where we stand. Oddly, it’s comforting, and the tension eases out of me. Tomorrow, I’ll think about how I really feel about it. For now, being a ‘sister’ with no expectations to think about, in a weird way, takes the sting out of revealing my recent failure in life. I sigh as Nick increases the pressure on one foot. “Hmm. I don’t know, Nick. Evie and I were talking and I realized that somewhere in this grand scheme of things, I lost sight of the bigger picture. When Evie asked what’s next, after getting Day and Night launched, I mentioned settling down and having a few kids to start the next phase of life.” I frown. “In my mind, that’s two years down the road, when I turn 30. That’s when she kindly reminded me that I’ll be 30 next year…I feel like I’ve been sent back to GO, and I can’t collect $200.” When his eyes go blank, I chuckle while trying to maintain my composure in the face of this amazing foot massage. “That’s a Monopoly reference…anyway, the point is, it felt like a reset at a loss. I feel as if I don’t know where I am on the board anymore. If I’m still two years away from settling down and having kids, am I really thinking about having kids in my mid 30s? Because if not, and I’m going to be 29 in November, then doesn’t that mean I should have started dating by now? To weed out the crazies?”“Or worse,” I frown. “What if I’m the crazy that they’ll be trying to weed out? I’ve never dated before. I came out of high school and worked for three years to afford my tuition and expenses for Le Cordon Bleu—that feels really nice.” Nick is working something out of my left foot that is a problem. I blink. “Where was I? I spent a year getting the best degree I could afford, interned at that restaurant, got a job offer and what I thought was a genuine offer to help me put my skills to use…I think you’ll have to charge for foot massages. That way I won’t be tempted to ask. This is amazing.” He glances at me with a smirk, but silently continues working. “Right,” I exhale to get the tingles out. “Once I figured out the owner was only interested in one set of skills, and it had nothing to do with my knives, I was justifiably angry. Granted, I shouldn’t have set fire to his toque in the middle of the dining room. I admit that was in bad taste. But, sexual harassment is a problem in this industry.” I grimace at the memory. Nick’s hands still on my feet as his gaze swings to mine. “Where was this?” My brows snap down. “Savant d’Oblique. Even I don’t know what that means, but, it was on my resumé.” He has a strange glint in his eye, but with a curt nod, he falls silent. “Speaking of savants, did you go to school for this, ‘cause I’m not surre…” I press my lips together to swallow the rest of the sound. “Noted. Do not ask Nicky about his status as a miracle worker.” Nick smiles, as he continues working, and I take a minute to fight through the contraction in my airways. “Anyway, one year there, then six months of job hunting, where McDonald’s didn’t even want me after said owner blacklisted me. If it weren’t for my best friend’s begging skills, I wouldn’t be here, getting…getting the best foot massage known to man..you know what? Change of perspective. I’m so glad I went through all of that, just so I can be right here, getting..wait…are we sure this is legal? Because I think I’m addicted.” Nick chuckles, as he switches to my other heel, and when I nearly throw myself off the couch, he grips my calf to pull me back, which…“I think I’ve passed on. I don’t think anything natural is supposed to feel this good without consequences. So, either, you should only be doing this for your spouse..or…that’s it! I’m going to make you garlic smashed potatoes with…” I can barely keep my eyes from crossing as Nick goes back to that one sore spot he hit on my left foot earlier…and yep! I embarrassed myself. Big time. I worked as a massage therapist for a few years after high school. Not one of the other students in my massage classes ever made my feet feel like this. When I finally get a hold of my senses, I only manage to stutter something about parmesan. To my chagrin, the evil man cackles. “I think I’ve proved you can’t threaten me with a good time, darling.” I nod in a haze, muttering, “I think this is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘never bring a knife to a gunfight.’” Nick’s rumble of laughter sounds somewhere above me, while I’m rendered perfectly mute. Apparently his hands are learning a new style of warfare I’m unequipped to repel…but I’m completely here for it. He’s being so attentive and caring, and this massage is just hitting on levels I don’t understand. It’s no wonder when I begin to fight a sudden onslaught of tears. The worst part is, I don’t even know why I’m crying. While I silently sob, Nick continues to diligently slay whatever is ailing my feet, ankles, and calves. How is this life right now? When the tears begin to subside, he hands me a few tissues, which is just the sweetest thing, and restarts the crying jag. As I blubber about how sorry I am, Nick looks like he’s in sheer agony as he sits there with a clenched jaw. The poor guy is probably wondering why he left his room tonight. It’s only when we lock eyes, and I see the pain reflected in his gaze, that I realize how deeply he’s affected by my tears. Before I know what’s happening, Nick’s lifting me against his chest, and cradling me in one of his gorilla hugs. A hug that I’m a tiny bit mad about…because I’m completely congested now, and Nick normally smells amazing; like a delicious, spicy lemon lavender cloud. I’ve spent five years trying not to smell him, and the one time I have total permission to do it, I physically can’t! “Is there a female version, of this cologne?” I ask as I snuggle closer. Out of nowhere, a huge yawn escapes me, but there’s no way I’m going to be the first one backing out of this fever dream. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t. With my limbs so relaxed, a bone drenching tiredness washes over me, and suddenly I’m fading. As my eyes drift closed, the sound of his rapidly beating heart thumps beneath my cheek. Well, that can’t be normal. “Do you rub Evie’s feet like that?” I slur sleepily. His chuckle reverberates through his chest. “Not quite like that, no.” “I bet,” I yawn again. “If you did, I was going straight to the Better Business Bureau to report that I’ve been ripped off. I got a sister when brothers are obviously better, and clearly a clerical error was made.” My eyes flutter shut as he chuckles again, not seeming to mind that he’s now my pillow. I feel him gently push my curls out of my face, as he whispers. “Your sister is identical right?” I think I’m smiling when I respond, “Yes, but not in the ways that matter to you, Nicky babe.” The last thing I remember are feather light touches on my eyebrows, then floating through the air, being bundled under blankets and a gentle kiss to my forehead. Well, blimey. I should have gotten a brother years ago. Only now..I’m not sure that I want one…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 5Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 2 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 4“So wait a minute!—aaaaaahahahahaha—wait!” While patiently waiting for Evie to catch her breath, I lie huddled beneath the blankets in my bedroom at Nick’s duplex penthouse in Hyde Park. “Evie, you can’t laugh. This is a nightmare!” The only reason I’m not shouting is to avoid waking Nick or Alfie. “All I did was fall asleep on a plane, and I woke up in the twilight zone. Your brother isn’t helping either. I think he experienced some sort of brain death, because he was practically comatose the last half hour we were there. He made me drive back to the penthouse!” I’m still shaken by that one. I can drive a car just fine. Even on the left side of the road if you insist, but when all the nobs and levers are on the wrong side of the car, along with the steering wheel…well, it’s a bit dicey. Throw in the number of roundabouts we had to go through, and yeah..I just made a bunch of left turns until I found the street I needed. And, instead of laughing at me or suggesting he invest in a driver, the whole ride Nick just silently stared out of the window. Evie takes a shuddery breath. “So, you two had a moment, and you called him by a super special nickname even I didn’t know about, all in front of Mum and Dad…” As she tries to suppress the giggle, I can imagine she’s pulling her thick mane of strawberry blonde hair into a bun. I rub at my temple with a shake of my head. “Evie. The looks on their faces…Mum and Dad had a terrifying combination of shock, jubilation and triumph on their faces. Like people who just won the lottery. And Nick…” My mind pores over the scene which will forever be burned into my retinas, haunting me for all time. “Nick looked surprised, but more resigned. If anything, I thought he would be the most affronted, because I just knew he hated when I call him that. Usually his eyes get all dark and serious like he could murder..” My voice trails off when realization dawns as my mind travels back to the moment just before that…when his eyes had taken on that same dark and serious character.. “Oh. My. Word.” I whisper. “Maybe he doesn’t hate it..” “Are you saying…” Evie sounds just as disbelieving as I feel. “No. Noo.” I furiously shake my head, my heart thumping away in my chest. I might pass out if I keep thinking about his eyes, and I’m dumbfounded by the prospect. “He’s never told me to stop using that nickname. I just assumed he tolerated it, but…no. No. I’m crazy. Pull me back from the ledge here, Evie.” Evie hums, “Doesn’t seem crazy to me, Bri. I’ve been saying for years that there must be something there that wasn’t there be—” “DON’T you dare finish that sentence!” I thunder, before slapping my hand across my mouth. Evie sighs, ignoring my panic that I could’ve woken someone else up at nearly midnight. “Bri, let’s just account for the facts. You’re beautiful and single, with a lovely career. Where do you want to go in life…after your food truck empire gets off the ground?” Shrugging my shoulders, I stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I guess, eventually, I’ll settle down, have a few kids and start the next phase. But, you’re talking two, three years down the road. Like when I’m 30.” Evie is silent a hair longer than comfortable. “Um. Bri, I’m sure that’s just the jet lag talking, but you’re going to be 30 next year, darling.” “No..” I start and stop as I go cold. “Wait…I’m going to be 29 this year…” “Indeed love.” “Oh, no…Oh, no! How did I skip years?” My eyes inexplicably fill with tears as I try to breathe through whatever this is. A panic attack? Revenge of the tea sandwiches? Evie groans. “Please tell me you aren’t having an existential crisis at near midnight, because I have to get up for early morning football practice…oh no. Don’t cry, love. It’ll be alright…” She tries to soothe me through the ridiculous tears that follow, but I somehow mislaid a whole two years in my mind. How does that happen? And, although it doesn’t makes sense, it feels good to blame her brother. “Is this the part where we blame Nick for the setback in my plan, and agree to never talk about him again?” I sniffle. “Um, no. It’s not. This is the part where I say I’m going to message him so he can handle the mess he made.” I bolt upright, desperation clawing at my chest as I swipe a hand across my tear-streaked face. “Evie, don’t even think about it! He has to be at the studio at 9am, and he didn’t sleep last night. Please don’t—” “Too late!” She triumphantly crows. “Get ready to meet your existential crisis in the flesh.” “You’re a bum! Do you know that?” I groan, but it has no bite. She cackles giddily. “You’re certifiable, Evie. Girl chats are supposed to help, not hurt. You’ve single-handedly destroyed—” Knock, knock, knock. I go silent as Evie laughs louder. “What was that? Your crisis knocking?” “You’re dead to me!” I whisper into the phone before hanging up on her full blown belly laugh. This is what I get for calling a psychopath instead of my own sister. I know mothers don’t get enough sleep..but I still called her. Knock. Knock. Knock. Insistent bugger isn’t he? I could just wait until he goes away…but he just got up, out of what I’m sure was a dead sleep. Showing some gratitude wouldn’t hurt. Keeping the blanket bundled around me, I slide into my fuzzy slippers, throw open the door…and look away from the open neck of his black henley…and..gah! I can admit, I wasn’t ready to face his sharp grizzled jawline, the wavy hair standing straight up, or the bloodshot eyes peering down at me in confusion as he takes in how I’ve swaddled myself in my blanket. “Evie said you needed help,” he grumbles in his gravelly, sleep filled voice. Oh. My. Word. “Do you want to record an audiobook for me?” I joke. Ok, half joke. Either way, the words are out before I realize I’ve said them. His eyes narrow in bewilderment. “What? You want to record an audiobook…now?” Now, I’m taken aback. Is that an option? I shake my head to clear it. “You know, jet lag is a trip. I’m sorry Evie woke you. Everything’s fine. You can go back to bed.” I attempt to push him from the doorway, but he doesn’t budge. Without his glasses or contacts, Nick squints past me. Not finding what he’s looking for, he grabs my hand, tugging me from the room. “What are you doing?” I whisper hiss as he leads me down the hallway, past the large kitchen, and into the open living room. When he releases me in front of the couch, I about face to return to my room. “Stop,” he calls. I freeze. “Sit.” His tone is firm, but gentle, so I guess he can live. I back up to the sofa and sit, grumbling something about freedom as I stare up at him. Nick goes back into the kitchen and puts on the kettle. When I hear the tell-tale clinking of cups I move to stand. “I can do it.” “Sit, Bri,” comes his gravelly voice once again. So, I sit…and try not to think about why I just obeyed. Or, about this troubling reaction to him in the pit of my stomach. I’ve done an Oscar worthy job of keeping my eyeballs and ears to myself over the past eight years. Mostly to avoid being labeled as one of those crazed fans who gets found standing in a celebrity’s closet rolling around in a pile of their clothes. Why break the streak, now? I shake my head to clear it. Despite what I’m always reminding Evie and Bronwyn, 12 years really isn’t that big a deal. But, falling in love with your boss? No. I refuse to be a statistic. And, I didn’t deny myself the pleasure of looking at him, for it all to fall apart in my last six months of employment. He’syourbosshe’syourbosshe’syourboss… I take a look around at the penthouse to distract myself. Although I’ve been here countless times, the two story condo is still impressive with its back lit, gold veined white marble, dark wood interior, and views of Hyde Park through 20 foot floor to ceiling windows. I don’t know how much Nick paid for this view, but it certainly warms the large space, making it feel private and welcoming. It’s always peaceful, and overlooks the soft lighting trailing through the park. I love it as much as I did when Nick first decided to buy it a few years ago. The kitchen is always well stocked, and it certainly beats getting special accommodations to cook at inns and hotels. When I happen to catch Nick staring at me like I’m an enigma, I offer a small smile. Which…he ignores as he sets up the tea tray. Yeah, that’s about right. If someone woke me up in the middle of the night to talk…I would be growly, too. Yet, like him, I have and would do the same thing, because that’s what friends do. Got it. It’s locked in. He’s my friend, and my boss. That’s why I was confused. I was crossing wires somewhere and forgot. I’m good now. I should be able to— “I don’t add spice.” I rear back in surprise as Nick sits the tray on the coffee table in front of me with a loud thunk. “Sorry—I meant—it can be a hot toddy, but no spices are in there. I brought the whiskey over in case you wanted to toddy your own tea. Or hot—” “Thanks!” I squeak. Shouldering off the blanket, I push up a red pajama sleeve to reach for the teapot, but, my hand is swatted away. “Behave yourself, Bri,” Nick grumbles. I then watch as he sets about making me a cup of tea. “Thanks,” I smile, accepting the cup and saucer. Served twice in one day..I’ll have to mark today on my calendar. Inhaling the aroma, I take a sip, letting the flavors play across my tongue. “Mmm. Ohh…is this peach and rose oolong?” Nick nods, relaxing against the cushions as he takes a deep whiff of the tea before sipping it. It’s cooler in the living room than in my bedroom, so I settle back against the cushions, tucking my feet under me. Taking another sip, I hum as I stare beyond the illuminated park to the city lights blinking on the other side. “This is perfect. How do you always seem to know what tea I want?” Although Nick’s blue eyes droop in fatigue, they light up when he smiles. “Easy.” I wait for him to continue, but he quietly sips his tea. “Easy how?” I prod. He shrugs, staring into his teacup. “You’re flowers first. If no flowers, then fruit, but, always fruit and flowers if it’s an option. Easy.” He takes another sip of tea and closes his eyes, like he didn’t just blow my mind. A flutter in my stomach alerts me to how my heart rate has picked up. I’m sure it means nothing. But, then again, why would he waste time learning that? Um, maybe because you’ve spent nearly every day with the man for years? After that airport luggage debacle a couple of years ago, he even knows your clothing size. Why are you so touched by the fact he knows your preference for tea? At that my heart rate slows, and a few quiet moments go by before I speak again. “If I recall correctly, you were a plain black tea guy. What made you decide to try different kinds?” Nick smiles. “I was curious.” His head rolls in my direction, and through the sleep in his eyes, I see that dark, serious look. It’s hiding, but it’s there. How long has it been hiding there? What does it mean? I blink back at him, and suddenly feel a need to cool my parched throat. I turn back to my tea, letting the flavor roll across my tongue. But, unable to stop myself, I ask, “What were you curious about?” Nick quietly chuckles, as if he’s in some memory. “The taste. I wanted to know…what it tasted like. You always seem to enjoy every flavor..as if you’re exploring it, and deciding it’s possibilities. I can see it as it happens. You take notes mentally, knowing where every flavor fits in your endless catalogue, and how you’ll use it later. It’s fascinating, and it’s made me want to explore as well.” When I raise my brows, he lifts a shoulder in response. “Tea had merely been a utilitarian event to check off the list. Sometimes it was pleasant, often it just served its purpose. Without knowing it, you taught me to sit and savor. And, not just tea. It’s the reason why I’m ok with the quiet now. I don’t have a need to fill it up with noise. I hope I’ll have that same relationship to other things as well one day.” Hmm. “What other things do you want to explore?” Genuine curiosity prompted the question, yet, as Nick gazes at me intently, I blink to assure myself I’m awake. “I look forward to food now more than ever,” he says slowly. “You tease me about my love of potatoes, but I didn’t know I had that love until the first time I sat across from you at dinner, and watched you eat and hum over a side of scalloped potatoes. That’s when I learned that people can eat, not out of necessity, but for the joy of it. I realized I’ve never eaten that way, but I wanted to.” Gulp. I swallow down my remaining tea, positive I tasted none of it. “That’s an exciting thing to look forward to,” I croak. “You should take advantage of your opportunities.” He’s studying me again, a slight wrinkle in his brow that causes me to duck my head. “I’m still learning how to use it, but, I know it’s a perspective that’s a gift I’ll always cherish, Bri.” I look up, but he’s already returned to drinking his tea. It would be so easy to dismiss the idea. But, when I think back to how Nick went from being grumpy and aloof as he ignored my chatter, to the open, warm, and albeit, still a bit grumpy person in front of me, the truthfulness of his statement strikes me. When I first started working for him, he was so snippy that I decided we didn’t need to speak again. Apparently, after one week of only communicating via email, although I was often in the same location that he was, Evie called me, begging me to try to be friends, for her sake. I only agreed because there’s nothing I won’t do for my bestie, but it was touch and go for a while. At least, until he stopped acting as if I was trying to kidnap him, and started responding to my random chatter. Over the years, that uneasy truce turned into friendship of a sort. Oh…why am I just realizing that I don’t want to give up my friendship with this man, who has only just begun to sip at life? The thought leaves me shaken, since I didn’t have any idea I felt that way, but also because I feel it with an unmistakable certainty. But, that’s ridiculous. He’s…fill in the blank. At least a hundred excuses pop into my mind. Only four are reasonable, and the only one that feels like a true roadblock, is a question. Could he ever see me as anything more than his little sister’s best friend? Blinking my eyes, I give myself a mental shake, struggling to bring my mind back to the subject we were discussing. “I think we all savor life in different ways, Nick. I’ve seen you do it in your own way, and some even say you’re a pro at it.” Nick raises a brow, but patiently waits for me to explain. “Like your habit of savoring people, their quirks…the things that make us tick. I’ve seen you cataloguing details about them, and then pulling them out for various characters. A little accent here, a squint of the eyes there, a turn of an ankle, a quirk of the brow. In the end, when we watch you perform, we’re feasting on the flavors you’ve curated for us to enjoy that performance.” The sleep has fled his eyes for the moment as he studies me with an unreadable expression. I smile, thinking of the incredible amount of work he puts in. “The beauty of your gift, is that it allows people to feel seen and heard in ways that aren’t easily articulated. And, you’re a fantastic curator, Nicky babe. That’s why your performances resonate with so many people. ” He gazes at me, his eyes dark and serious, but also…ablaze with something. Whether it’s with passion, or understanding I can’t decipher, so I duck my head to put my cup and saucer back on the tray. I could go for a second cup, but maybe it’s best if I go back to my room and sort through my confusion. Yet, without a word, Nick refills my mug from the teapot, stirs in a cube of sugar, and returns the teacup and saucer to me. “Thanks. How did you know I wanted more?” I smile. Nick frowns as he shakes his head. “You weren’t satisfied, yet. When you have your fill of something, it shows.” I wait, but he presses his lips into a thin line, like he doesn’t want to continue this conversation anymore. Nodding, I sit back to enjoy my tea. As we gaze out over the lights of the park in the quiet contentment of familiarity, a warmth steals over me. Is this what it’s like to be savored by someone? Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no! I’m only asking for trouble if I’m going to start speculating about what he’s thinking. We aren’t doing this, Bri. He’s still your boss, and you have a job to do for the next six months. I take an unsteady breath. It won’t do me a bit of good to start wondering about his feelings now. I’ll have to unravel that thread another time. I bite my lip, and change the subject “Hey, if I recall correctly, you stopped drinking black tea about three years ago. It was around the time we were in Shanghai for that award show. Remember, you took me to all of those tea houses, and when one of the teahouse owners admitted the best oolong was found in Fujian Province, you found a way to have them ship it back home.” Nick smiles as he sips his tea. “That was definitely the best oolong I’ve had.” I take another sip, more certain I’m right. It’s the same tea we’re drinking now. “Thank you for bringing it here. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.” He nods, sitting his empty teacup on the table with a little sigh The moonlight captures the streaks of silver at his temples, filling me with curiosity. 40 certainly isn’t old age, but it’s safe to say it’s near middle age. Yet, Nick always attends award ceremonies alone. I never hear him speak of marriage or kids. Unless he’s been sneaking around with a makeup artist or boom operator, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t date. What does Nick want out of life? Besides savoring it? He glances over and startles when he sees me watching him. “Why didn’t you want me to make your tea?” I ask, curiously. He pauses a long moment. When he speaks, his words are slow, measured, as if he wants to get this right. “We walk a fine line every day between employer and employee, and friendship.” I nod in agreement. Running a hand through his waves, he angles his body to face me. “You wear a uniform, because you want to reinforce those boundaries, yes?” I shouldn’t be surprised that he gathered that information from my insistence on and adherence to my own dress code policy, yet, here we are. My quick nod confirms it. “I’m fine with that,” he continues, “because I know it means you respect me as your employer, and you want to show respect for your position. Yet, that same uniform, in some ways, prevents us from crossing other boundaries, that may be completely fine.” My heart rate quickens, as he continues, nodding as he eyes me. “For instance, if I treated you the way I did tonight when you had your uniform on, it would have been completely different. You wouldn’t have sat because I asked you to, and you never would have allowed me to make you a cup of tea, no less two. Do you follow?” “Ah, ok. I guess that makes sense. The uniform doesn’t really give permission for anything besides a work relationship. Our friendship kind of blossomed out of bounds.” A gentle quirk of the lips tells me I’ve hit the mark. “So, is it alright, Bri, when it’s just you and me, in these quiet moments, if we can be real friends? I already know you’re a professional, and you’re the best chef I’ll ever have.” He smiles when I playfully bow, then continues. “But, I want us to change how we grow. To be friends without fear.” I raise a brow, and he chuckles. “You know what I mean. Nothing inappropriate, just—if you’re ok with it—being the kind of friends who do things for one another without an expectation of repayment. Friends who help each other when they see there’s a need. Is that something that you’re ok with?” I knew the friend zone was in the area, but I didn’t expect it to unexpectedly land on me so firmly. At least I know where I stand…? I nod, with more to process than ever. I’ve finally admitted to myself that Nick is someone I’m interested in getting to know on a deeper level, after peeling back newer, more interesting layers. With Nick admitting that he wants us to be better friends going forward, it’s the perfect solution…so why am I still so confused? When I nod, Nick eyes me. “Good. So, why were you crying earlier?”← Previous Chapter: Chapter 2 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 4Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 1 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 3I need to send the message. I know it. Yet, the longer I wait, the more apparent it becomes that I’m hoping Briony is asleep when she receives it. It feels like it’s near midnight, but when I check the time, it’s only ten o’clock. I’m reclined against my pluffy white pillows, knowing I should have been asleep already, trying to adjust my inner clock for the trip to London on Tuesday. Instead, I’ve been doing squats in the cold, trying to make sure that Briony got in alright. I know she’s a grown woman, and that it’s not my responsibility. Yet, it’s the same courtesy I extended to my sister, Evie before she married, so it’s automatically extended to her best mate. And, while I have cameras that come with the ease of merely opening the app, I’m usually in bed by 8pm, and asleep by half nine. If I were to wait inside with the camera app open, that’s exactly how I’d awaken the next morning. Briony’s family suppers are only every other week. I can stand outside twice a month, while being grateful she isn’t a party animal. I yawn, wiping away the tears that spring to my eyes. I can’t wait anymore. I send the message, holding my breath. ‘Alfie will have to come and go during the next six months, so I’m going to need the ‘even more’ package. Usual rate?’ Not a moment later, Briony’s response comes back. ‘I don’t know boss, six months is an awful long time of tailored treatment.’ ‘Just for the local things since Alfie will handle everything business related. And, don’t call me boss,’ I counter. I really detest that nickname. ‘Ok, but you have to do the thing.’ I close my eyes. I knew it would come to this, but it doesn’t make it any easier. ‘I know I don’t have a say in what you do with your free time, Briony, but I still don’t feel comfortable with it.’ “But I want it. I only need it in Nottinghamshire, and for the whole time we’re in Switzerland. There’s not much to do out there, and I refuse to be stuck in the boondocks again. So, how about it, Nicky babe? Will you do the thing? Pretty please?’ Oh, that’s just wonderful. I expel a hard breath. As much as I detest Briony calling me boss, I adore it when she calls me ‘Nicky babe.’ She only began using the nickname because Evie has always called me Nicky. The only person in the world allowed to use that name, until Briony came along, with zero cares about my desire to be called Nicholas by those I’m unfamiliar with. Briony has called me Nick from the first day I met her at my parents’ house on holiday eight years ago. And, despite my many and varied threats to relieve her of service if she couldn’t remain professional, she continued to do so after she was hired as my private chef nearly six years ago. We both knew it had nothing to do with her professionalism. After all, this is the same woman who insisted on wearing a chef’s jacket to remind us of her reason for being here. No, it was the familiarity that I wasn’t comfortable with. A familiarity that’s not only comfortable now, but second nature to the point of necessity. Then, one day a couple of years ago, after I’d been especially snarky about it not being appropriate for her to call me so familiarly, Briony looked me in the eye and said, “I make your green juice, I feed you on a regular schedule throughout the day. I know how often you make bowel movements. Short of burping you, how much more intimate do we need to be, Nicky babe?” I’ve kindly shut up about it ever since then, and eventually found that I looked forward to the newest endearment. At this point, Briony could ask for a million dollars, and if she tacked on that nickname, it would likely be sitting in her bank account by the next business day. I scrub a hand down my face as I type out, ‘Fine.’ My eyes drift close before popping open again. ‘Remind me again not to message you after 10pm.’ I was so worried about the favor I knew she’d ask for, that I’d forgotten Briony gets punch drunk after a certain time, and starts love bombing. Normally not a problem, but lately… I heave a sigh. Blame it on the shock of it all, but I haven’t been the same since Briony informed me last year April that her four year contract would be expiring in September. And, while I was able to get her to agree to a one year extension, I was just as clueless then as I am now as to the reason why I’m so upset that she’s moving on. Now here we are, six months away from another contract expiration, and not only am I just as stumped as to how to keep her here, but I’m also just as affected by this sense of…loss I suppose. What am I missing? I pick up my phone when it pings again, groaning at her response. ‘What? It’s not like I started talking about Duchesse potatoes. Those mashed potatoes I made you earlier, just get piped onto a sheet pan and baked off to golden brown perfection. Hmm. I think I’ll do that instead of Yorkshire pudding next Sunday.’ I roll my eyes, the point proven. She’s an inveterate love bomber after 10pm. As my ears heat up, I shake my head. I’ve got to get a grip. ‘Insubordinate and churlish,’ I type out with a roll of my eyes. ‘Crying face emoji,’ she returns. Why would she be crying? It’s more likely she’s laughing. The sadist loves to use my affection for potatoes against me. She knows I dream of eating them every day. It’s probably the hardest thing about being this version of an actor. I’m honestly looking forward to my later Marlon Brando years when people will only care about the talent and show up despite my love of chips. I’ve put my phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ when I realize I still need to message Alfie with Briony’s request. As usual, there’s no playful banter with Alfie. He’s about 10 or 15 years older than me, and with his spiky, mid length, salt and pepper hair and earring, he looks like a former model. Either that or a pirate. The man is a mystery. Alfie’s been with me nearly 10 years now, and sets his own schedule. He responds without complaint to my requests as they come in, no matter what time of day or night, and lets me know when it’s time for a raise. He’s never been a very chatty sort of fellow, although that has changed in the last several years. Ironic, considering, if he has one fault now it’s that he’s developed a horrible habit of speaking his mind. Too much time spent around Briony, I suspect. On the other hand, I’m positive he didn’t smile before she began working here either. Maybe I should be talking to Alfie about a way for her to stay…When he messages for my execution code on Briony’s request, I only hesitate a moment before giving it. I then put my phone on the charger, not bothering to wait for his return confirmation. Yet, when I close my eyes, Briony’s dimples set in smooth, toasted caramel skin and her laughing chocolate eyes immediately fill my head. My eyes snap open just as fast as I exhale a sharp breath. I could be running lines right now. I could be listening to classic radio theater, like Briony teased me about earlier. It would be useless though. Not with this monumental problem sitting on my chest. There are only six months left until Briony is gone, and I can’t stand the thought. I’m not delusional enough to think it’s love. At least not the kind of love that keeps men awake at night. Despite how this looks, this is not that. Turning over, I heave a sigh. We’re very good friends. Dear friends even, but there could never be anything between us. Maybe, if it weren’t for the fact that there’s a 12 year age difference between us, things would be different. A futile line of reasoning if I’ve ever heard one. At any rate, Briony gives me all the companionship I could ever need from a close friend. It’s why I have to get over this disappointment that she’s leaving her post. She has to grow and look forward. I get that, and I fully support it. So, how do I explain this sudden sense of panic gnawing at my stomach? Simple. I can’t stomach the idea of her moving away. Even to Brooklyn. No, that thought is insupportable. Sensing that sleep has fled me for now, I turn on my bedside lamp and pick up my well worn collection of Poetry Greats with a sigh. Here’s to another sleepless night…This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. I haven’t seen Mum and Dad since my London holiday last summer. That’s the reason I’m standing in their wood paneled foyer with my mouth open as they sweep me aside and wrap Briony in a hug. “We haven’t seen you since April, dove! We’ve missed you!” Mum joyfully cries out to my surprise. “I know! I’ve missed you, too! We’ve come bearing gifts!” Briony exclaims, amongst the hugs and kisses. She picks up one of the boxes she made me carry from Duty Free and hands it to Dad. Briony always comes bearing gifts, and loves to pretend it was a group effort. Yet, my brow raises as I close the door. I knew Briony came to visit Evie last year. An unexpected scheduling conflict meant we had taken our usual London holiday at separate times. I didn’t realize Briony had visited our parents as well, but it warms me somehow. Still, the longer I stand unattended as Mum and Dad carry on, I begin to wonder if maybe I should have gone to the penthouse with Alfie, and let her come alone. Dad takes the box from Briony, and drops a kiss on her head chatting about the flight. I haven’t slept in 18 hours, so I’m completely knackered. Still, I never knew I could be doubly jealous until that moment. While I fight to suppress the ridiculous jealousy of Dad giving her a peck, I choose to focus on the other, slightly less offensive, but equally appalling reason I’m jealous. “I haven’t been kissed on the head since I grew six inches in four months at the age of 14,” I mutter. “Oh, that’s good on you, darling,” Dad says to Briony, ignoring me to usher her up the stairs to the family sitting room. “I hope you’ve been keeping this one in line?” He hikes a thumb in my direction. Even I have to chuckle at that. “I’m calling a penalty! I daresay, I can’t remember a single friend that I’ve brought home that’s treated as well as Evie’s friend here.” Mum kisses my cheek in a cloud of gardenia as I crest the landing, following Dad and Briony into the blue and cream room. “Thank you, Mum. I’m glad to see I’m not completely chopped liver.” Mum has a laugh as she sits next to Dad. “Nonsense, that doesn’t happen until you have children, and I daresay, you’re at least a couple of years away from that, aren’t you dear?” My brows furrow as I take her meaning, but before I can put my lips together, Mum shakes her greying strawberry blonde mane and presses on in her seemingly haphazard way. “No, darling, what I must take exception to, is the notion that you haven’t brought home a single friend that has been treated as well as Evie’s has, because—well, dear boy— you just have.” Dad and Briony snicker as I squint at her, trying to keep up with her in my sleep deprived state. “Now, we just set tea, there’s the usual sandwiches and other trifles. You know what to do,” Mum gestures to the tea set, sitting back with her cup. I narrow my eyes at her. What is she playing at, today? Turning to Briony, who’s studying the sandwiches as if she would be quite happy to be left alone with them, I ask, “Care for your usual, Bri?” “Thanks, Nick, that’d be great. Mum, Dad, thank you so much for the tea service! Everything looks amazing!” I nearly burn my hand pouring the tea when I sharply turn to look at Briony. Since when does she call my parents, Mum and Dad? Clearly, I know she spent a lot of time here with Evie during the year they attended Le Cordon Bleu. She even lived here a year while interning afterward, but they weren’t this close when we were last here, two years ago. Were they? Mum catches my eye, and in one breath says, “Close your mouth, dear—Dalton, I think I left one of the sweets in the kitchen. Would you mind helping me set it up?” Dad stands, holding out a hand to help Mum up from the settee. “Alright, Jeanie.” Then turning to me and Briony, he adds, “You kids stay out of trouble.” Fixing me with the stare that always made me fidget as a young boy, Dad mouths, “Behave,” before escorting Mum out. I watch his greying blond head bob out of the room just behind Mum’s in amazement. Just what on earth is going on here? Focusing on the task at hand, I manage to pour the orange blossom tea into the teacup this time. Dropping in a sugar cube, I give it a brisk stir and turn it over to Briony before setting about making my own. Setting a few of each tiny sandwich on a plate, I hand her the napkins before settling back with my tea, the plate between us. Then, pushing my glasses atop my head, I take a sip of tea before looking down at the plate and noticing half the sandwiches are gone. “Someone’s feeling a bit peckish,” I tease. Briony’s brown eyes flash at me in the way that says don’t start. I chuckle in response as she leans closer to me. “I slept through that whole flight. You knew I wanted to be woken for the meal service.” I did know that, but I couldn’t wake her. Even when Alfie caught my eye and gave me the signal that I should. For one thing, she looked so peaceful, like she was having the best sleep of her life. And, for another… I drape an arm over the back of the settee. “Briony, you know you’re the most violent person to awake from sleep. Did you really expect me to risk life and limb over some dry roast?” Briony chuckles around another bite of sandwich in her mouth. When I look down at the plate, there’s only one sandwich left. “Was it really dry?” She asks, quirking a brow disbelievingly. I grimace, “Truly. Sleep was likely the best thing on the menu. Picking up the cucumber sandwich, I slide it into my mouth, and lean forward to trade plates. The plate with the remaining sandwiches is barely down between us, when Briony giddily swipes one. “Ohhh,” she groans, with her eyes closed as she chews. “You have no idea how much Momma needed this!” I clear my throat. “You know I’m curious. You said the same thing when you came out of the loo in the lounge. Is this a new term you plan to use for every pleasant experience in the future? Or..” Her throaty laugh takes me by surprise. “I wouldn’t say every pleasant experience, but a hot shower and food qualifies as more than pleasant.” “Oh, you took a shower…” My brows shoot up as I take in her dark curly bob, which I failed to notice she’d let out of the bun she slept in on the plane. I must be more tired than I thought. Briony’s nose crinkles adorably as she frowns, “Well, what did you think I was doing in there for 30 minutes?” Laughing at her bewildered expression I tease, “Oh, I can think of a couple things. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve randomly needed to go to the loo for an extended period of time.” When her jaw drops open, I laugh harder. She slaps me in the arm. “Are you saying this whole time you thought I’ve just been dropping deuces all over the world? And you said nothing?” Her cheeks brighten as she covers them with her hands. Briony’s always so much fun to tease, and never makes me feel like my sometimes blunt humor is too off the wall. It’s why we get on so well. I’m weeping with laughter, and it’s not helped when Briony swats me in the arm again, but starts laughing herself. “What—what was I supposed to say, Bri? Your deuce logs must be epic? Everything flush all right in there?” Now she’s laughing so hard she’s struggling to breathe, and when she collapses against me squealing, I laugh harder. My word, I’m going to miss this when she’s gone. I’m unprepared for the pain that slices through my chest at the thought, and it immediately sobers me. Briony is still pressed into my side, her body seized with laughter, but suddenly, I’m just too, aware. Aware of how her spiral curls frame her face, how she still smells like peaches and sweet tea, of how small her hands are, how soft her white cable knit jumper is, and how it shows off her neck. I’m only about a head taller than her and she’s a curvy woman, so she never seemed tiny, but in this moment, I have an awareness of how delicate she is. I clear my throat, and she looks up at me, just as my brain freezes. In that moment, something passes between us. Whether it’s an understanding, or an acknowledgment that we share this awareness, it’s unclear. But as whatever it is passes between us for one heartbeat, two heartbeats— “Well, well, well, look what we have here!” Mum’s voice cuts into that moment with such power that it physically wrenches me and Briony apart to opposite ends of the settee, hands in our laps. I can’t even make eye contact after seeing the knowing smiles on Mum and Dad’s faces as they prance in. I really wish they’d clue me in on what they know, because I have no idea what’s going on today. I rub my eyes, willing the fluttering in my chest to disappear. “It’s the Victoria Sponge from King’s Cross that you love so much, Bri!” They’re all smiles as they set the small cake slices in front of us. “Oh!” Briony squeaks. Actually squeaks. “Thank you…so thoughtful…” I cut my eyes over to her, noting she’s clearly experiencing the same confusion that I am. What was that? Mum and Dad sit with their slices of cake and eye us like the cat’s that have gotten into the cream. “Don’t you want the sponge? We thought it was your favorite.” Briony hurriedly sits forward and takes a plate and fork. “Oh, we absolutely love a good sponge, don’t we, Nicky babe?” All the air leaves the room, or at least my lungs, as Briony’s eyes widen, the realization of what she just called me in front of my parents sinking in at the speed of 12 parsecs. Taking a deep breath, I run a hand through my hair and lift the plate from her lifeless hands. “Thanks Bri, we sure do.” And shoving the whole bite into my mouth, I acknowledge facts that prove this is a nightmare. If I were conscious, I would be simultaneously celebrating my first bite of cake in a year, while mourning that I wasted the moment on only the third best cake in the world. And, if I were going to cheat, it should have been with potatoes. Instead…I feel nothing. Therefore, there’s nothing to worry about. This is in fact a nightmare. When I wake up, maybe the conscious version of myself will know the answer to the one thought consistently scrolling through my mind like a ticker tape. What is happening?← Previous Chapter: Chapter 1 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 3Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe

Copyright © 2025 by Ever Blue All rights reserved.This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise— or used to train AI models without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law and fair use.This book is a work of contemporary fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.More Than Enough is a closed door, no spice, sweet contemporary romance featuring: Dual POV, HEA, forced proximity, age gap, boss/employee relationship, he falls first, swoon worthy moments. /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 2“Oh, no! Absolutely not, Nick. How many times have I said, ‘no more super hero stuff?’ I mean it this time!” I shove the pan of Yorkshire pudding into the top oven, set a timer on my phone, and turn to the sink to load the dishwasher. My boss continues to eye me as he silently takes a drink of water from his perch on the other side of the massive, white marble island. Just biding his time until I give in..as usual. Normally, I find his geeky adoration of everything drama and acting to be endearing. Yet, this wouldn’t be the first time I looked into those large, pale blue eyes of his and wished that he would take them somewhere else. Don’t get me wrong. Nicholas Bancroft is gorgeous, in a ruggedly handsome way. If you’re into that sort of thing. Ahem. Even with the bit of silver starting to edge his hair at the temples, there’s a reason why he’s been voted People’s Sexiest Man Alive—twice. I’m sure his English accent doesn’t hurt either. Yet, unbeknownst to the scores of producers responsible for churning out his many Oscar winning films, and the various academies that insist on cluttering his mantle with eye catching statues in tribute to his work, he can be supremely annoying. “Fine,” I cave, as I finish loading the dishwasher with a sigh. “What’s this about New Zealand?” I’ll listen, but I refuse to dress up like a hero. A fourth time. Nick slams his large mug on the counter with a clang, that echoes through his large white kitchen. So dramatic. Leaning forward, his corded forearms resting on the island, a goofy smile spreads across his face. The one he reserves for his parents, his sister, Evie, and her boys. Of course, since Evie’s my best friend, I’ve gotten more exposure to it over the last five years than any other employee has. Except for maybe Alfie. I’m just the private chef. As Nick’s personal assistant/bodyguard/valet/whatever else doesn’t involve food, the older man probably knows Nick best. Speaking of whom, where is Alfie? “Briony, what are the odds that I’m going to be filming in New Zealand at the same time that Peter Smithson and Gil Shapiro will be there? And, to take it one step further, they want to talk about casting for a Hamlet experience on Broadway and theaters. I can’t believe I got the call. It’s just a quick flight to Auckland for a day, so it won’t disturb our schedule at all.” I nod indulgently as I mix the green drink that Nick insists on having, pouring the mix into their respective bottles. The stuff tastes like grass and broken dreams, but he drinks it every morning before his workouts. You’d better believe, if I were going to be spending two or more hours working out, I’d need at least a promise of chocolate. Smiling as I deposit the bottles in the large, stainless steel refrigerator, I head back to the island to organize the rest of dinner. “This is a very big deal, Nick. And, I’m so happy for you! You’d be amazing in Hamlet. Do you think you’ll try for the lead?” Nick notches his round glasses up his nose, and nervously runs a hand through the waves of his dark blond hair, a slow grin creeping across his face. “We’ll see how it goes. You realize the pressure to deliver would be incredible. Do you know Richard Burton had the longest run of Hamlet?” I nod, half listening to the familiar refrain as his gravelly voice washes over me. “137 performances,” we say at the same time, one of us sounding a bit drier than the other. Wait a minute. Dread forms, cold and thick, as a knot settles into my stomach. I pause in dishing out the roasted leg of lamb into the serving dish, leveling Nick with a stare. “When did you say this legendary meeting happening?” Nick tilts his head, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “While we’re filming in New Zealand.” Sitting the dirty pan in the sink, I rest a hand on my hip and look up at him. “Uh huh, but we leave for London on Tuesday. You’re filming for seven weeks in Nottinghamshire, then from May through the end of August we’ll be in Switzerland for filming. And, after three weeks of post production in London, we’re back here. I only have a week before the big move at that point. So…when exactly is New Zealand supposed to happen?” If I didn’t know with great certainty the man in front of me had already done so, I would think he’s sitting for a Madame Tussaud’s wax figure. Still, his silence and the bewilderment etched in his face is concerning. “Are we going to do that during the week off in July?” I venture. “Seems like it would take a week just to get there from Switzerland, but I trust Alfie has it all under control…” I’m due at Mom and Dad’s in Brooklyn, in about two hours. Traffic is already murder between Hartsdale and Brooklyn Heights without it being the weekend before St. Patrick’s day. With it being the last Sunday dinner before I’m gone for months, I can’t afford to be locked into a staring contest right now. If I didn’t know my boss so well, there’s no way I’d ever take such a drastic measure, but I need him to snap out of it. And nothing snaps an Englishman out of a trance like a good old fashioned term of endearment. Or a public display of affection. I saw it happen once. It was ugly. “Nick, you still with me, babe?” He blinks slowly, proving my point. “You…said the big move. Is it—are you leaving that…soon?” His gravelly voice quivers at the end, and I stifle a laugh at his antics. I hold up a hand. “Not this time, Nick. I’m not putting it off another hour. We’re six months out, and it’s really happening. I’m opening my food truck, and you sir, are going to start interviewing for private chefs.” Nick sits back on his bar stool, lowering his gaze as he fidgets with his mug handle. “I know…I know,” he groans with a sigh. Honestly, you would think this was a 6 year old kid, and not a 40 year old man. “We had an agreement, Nick. This is the last year. My offer to help you find a replacement is still on the table. It might be a bit difficult interviewing from Europe, though.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Alfie is more than capable of handling it…I suppose, it just…snuck up on me. Again,” he frowns. The timer for the oven goes off just as I dish up the roasted carrots. “Ah, perfect timing.” Nick clears his throat, eyeing me nervously as I turn the oven off, remove the pudding, and place it on a cooling rack between us. “I don’t suppose—” “You dare to dream?” I scoff as I lift the fluffy rolls from the pan. I fix his plate, with a dab of gravy over the pudding and lamb. “Evie had to beg you for that first six month contract. Now you’re sitting here, two contracts later asking for another extension? I think not, Mr. Bancroft. As it is, I still have to hire someone to pack and move my things. After I find an apartment.” Nick’s head snaps up, something wild about his eyes. “You’re moving out, as well?” I blow a dark curl out of my face as I scrub the pans. He’s really giving it everything he’s got, but I’m determined to finally get my dream underway. “Well, yeah. Your new chef is going to need a place to live. Taking care of you is a full time job,” I assert. Honestly, it’s two and a half jobs, but Nick pays very well. So well, in fact, I was able to pay off my loan for Le Cordon Bleu with my first six month contract. With rent included as a perk, besides the all expenses paid travel and yearly bonuses, I was able to get the funding that I needed to finally chase my dream and launch my food truck empire. Admittedly, it’s something I would have done already, if Nick hadn’t gotten me to stay another year by promising to fund a second food truck. It’s far too generous, and I did decline. Repeatedly. Yet, all it took was one line about caring about my dreams, and here I am. Nick nods, but he looks so gloomy, I can only feel sorry for him. Still, the man is a phenomenal actor. You’d think he’d employ all of that excellent talent on hiding his real feelings to spare mine. I set about cleaning up the kitchen in the ensuing silence, since Annie and Ben, the housekeeper and groundskeeper, don’t come in on Sunday. Technically, I shouldn’t be here either, but Nick and I usually eat dinner together. Occasionally, when Alfie doesn’t have anything going on, he’ll walk over from his cottage, across the back garden from mine, to join us. I normally cook my meals, so it’s usually just a matter of pulling up another chair. But, with the trip coming up on Tuesday, I really don’t want to clean my house again before we leave. Nick is still abnormally quiet, and when I look up from cleaning 20 minutes later, I’m surprised to see him staring down at his empty plate. “You OK, there boss?” Despite his aversion to the title, Nick barely grunts in response. Well, that’s concerning. He hasn’t been this quiet since the first week I began working for him. “I’m sure you’ll find someone who can cook to your taste, Nick.” Sitting a cup of tea in front of him, I swipe his plate, dipping a pudding into the little bit of sauce left. Shoving the bite in my mouth, I swallow a groan as I load the dish in the dishwasher. Peeking over at him, I see he’s pushed his glasses on top of his head, but his cup of tea is still untouched. OK, I guess it’s time for the big guns. “Honestly, I don’t know how you can sit there with all of that gravy nearby and not crave a deeper intimacy with it.” Nick blinks at me, as I smile wickedly. “You know what all that lovely gravy could really use, is some nice—” Nick closes his eyes in surrender, “Don’t say it, Bri. Just don’t—” “Fluffy…mashed potatoes,” I finish silkily. His ears redden as he looks at me askance. Despite an impressive list of film credits, it tickles me to no end that he can be so easily flustered just by talking about food he isn’t allowed to have on his strict diet. If I’m honest, I’m going to miss this more than I care to admit. It’s why I have to relish it, now. My grin grows wider. “You have no idea, how easy it would be, do you?” I whisper, leaning across the marble island as his eyes open and lock on mine helplessly. “It would be so easy for me to whip up some mashed potatoes. Throw in a bit of butter, some cream..hmm maybe a bit of cheese.” I lick my lips, “Yum.” He blinks down at me, his face twisted in a grimace as he growls, “You are a menace.” “My job is done here!” I exclaim, blowing him a kiss as I unsnap the top button of my black chef’s jacket. “Sweet dreams, Nicky babe!” I laugh, practically skipping out of the kitchen. “Menace!” He calls out behind me to more laughter. What can I say? I have to take my kicks where I can get them.Several hours later, as the gate to Nick’s massive property closes behind me, I pull down the driveway past his mansion toward my cottage. When my phone rings, I glance over, and seeing my twin’s face on the phone, I don’t hesitate to pick up. Which is how I nearly miss Nick skulking in the bushes. “Hey, Wyn, hold on,” I smirk, slowing down as I lower the window of my Jeep. “Why are you skulking in the bushes so late, Nick?” This isn’t unusual when I come back late from my parents. But, instead of coming out and saying, ‘I care about your well being, so I’m waiting up for you,’ he usually finds some random excuse for his presence. Even in three feet of snow, or torrential rain. At least he’s consistent. This time, though, Nick has the nerve to look abashed as he lifts his six foot frame from his crouching position. I give my head a shake, ignoring how the black t-shirt and pajama bottoms he’s paired with his soft, olive green cardigan drape his boxer’s build. He looks at me loftily as he responds. “I’m not skulking, Briony. I’m inspecting this corner because…the solar torch appears to be missing.” “Darn squirrels, am I right?” I deadpan. He coughs to cover his laugh. “They’re terrible neighbors. I hope this doesn’t mean I need to call someone about recovering it.” I playfully widen my eyes. “Whaaat? And rob the poor creatures of the joys of illumination? No, I think we’ll be just fine without the missing solar light in question.” Nick shrugs, “I should at least replace it…” “Hm,” I smirk. “As you wish. But, it’s getting late, Highness.” The wind rustles the nearby trees as he narrows his eyes on my face, a scowl darkening his features, and I can’t resist teasing him further. “Shouldn’t you be in bed already, with your hot toddy, listening to classic radio theater on Audible?” I laugh as his spine stiffens in mock outrage. Turning on his heel, he mutters, “Ingrate.” “Drama King!” I call out after him, before he disappears into the house. Pulling up to my cottage, I kill the engine, and nearly have a heart attack as Wyn says, “Well, that was interesting.” “Bronwyn! Don’t scare me like that!” I exclaim, clutching my chest. Wyn chuckles, the sound similar to mine. “Like what? The voice of your conscience?” I grimace as the call transfers to the phone. “Shut up!” Wyn only laughs harder. “You know you were thinking it.” I chuckle as I unlock my front door and step into my cocoon. “Please. There’s a 12 year age gap. It didn’t cross my mind.” I toe off my boots and head past the white and woodblock kitchen, past my comfy grey couch in the living room, straight to my bedroom. “Mmm hmm. 12 months or 12 years, there are billions of women in the world, but you’re the only one that has Nicholas Bancroft waiting on her when she gets home.” I roll my eyes as I change out of my clothes. “He’s got cameras if that’s the case. As you heard, he was questioning the integrity of the neighborhood squirrels. His being outside has nothing to do with me.” “If I recall correctly, you’re the one who brought up the squirrels. Was he still outside when you came inside?” “No…” I start to say. “Exactly, because he was only out there for you.” “Ha!” I scoff. “I think you must have absorbed some of the romance novels Mom read to us in the womb. You are such a romantic.” It probably doesn’t help we’re named after heroines from said books. “One of us should be a romantic,” Wyn quips. “You’re romantic enough for both of us,” I respond, going into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. “Well, otherwise, between you the romantically blind, and me the romantically mute, Mom and Dad are getting zero grandchildren.” An exasperated sigh escapes me. “You’re fine, Wyn. Don’t let Danny’s engagement get you down. You couldn’t have known he was seeing his secretary. What are you calling about anyway? I just left you 45 minutes ago.” Wyn heavily sighs. “I still should have said something sooner..but you’re right, I’m fine. And, good news! I’ve got a great lead on a place to build out the truck. Will you be able to send the money, or should I use the card you gave me for business expenses?” I wipe my mouth with my face towel and head back into my bedroom. “Oh, use the card for sure. It’s easier for me to pay it than to send that amount of money online.” Wyn is a brilliant Finance Director, and no part of this food truck dream would be feasible without her help. After discussing the build out and letting her know that Dad said he would deal with the mechanics, we say another long goodbye. Then, crawling between the cool, luxurious white sheets, I pull up the fluffy comforter around my face and exhale. It’s been a long day. I’m just getting settled when Nick messages me about the upcoming trip. I snicker as I send a message about potatoes that’s sure to get a response from him. Sure enough, moments later his message comes in. “Insubordinate and churlish.” I crack up laughing at the reference to a skit I had shown him a long time ago. The man forgets nothing. Well, usually anyway. Setting my phone on the charger, I roll over, already drowsy. Outside my window, the sound of the wind blowing through the trees taps out a rhythm that has me drifting off, the smile still on my lips. Just six more months, and I’m out of here. And, nothing’s stopping me this time… /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 2Subscribe for new posts every week!This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe