Page 31 of From LA to London, With Love

“Don’t worry about it,” Sophie said. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Shit. I was almost certain he’d said something racist or sexist or, even worse, both. Here I was, complaining about attention from paparazzi and fans—the by-product of a successful film career—while Sophie was dealing with actual prejudice and harassment. Blood drained from my face.

I should do something. Run after the man and give him a piece of my mind? Or say something to Sophie…I just had no idea what.

“Are you okay?” Sophie looked at me with concern.

“Sorry,” I stumbled. “I just…I think I got the gist of what he said to you, and I…I don’t know what to do. I can’t believe people go around saying things like that. I mean, I guess I knew it happened but…I’m so sorry, Sophie.” The thing is, I did know it happened. I’d even witnessed it before, but I’d never seen it happen to someone I knew and cared about. But seeing it happen to Sophie really affected me.

Sophie reached her hand over to mine and gave it a squeeze. “It can be shocking to witness racism. It’s totally understandable that you’re feeling thrown.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I was such a fucking idiot. How did I manage to make this all about me? “I’m so sorry. You’ve just been verbally abused, and now you’re comforting me. I should be helping you. Is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you, but I’m okay. You know, as part of our new business, we’ll actually provide training to people—especially white people—on how to handle these types of situations because they can be so difficult. It’s called bystander awareness training. People want to be good allies, to speak up against racism, but often don’t know what to say. And in some cases, it may not be safe or beneficial to speak out. We want to give people the tools to help better navigate these situations. However, in this case, there wasn’t much you could have done, especially since you can’t speak or understand Spanish! I obviously could have said something, but to be honest, I just didn’t have the energy. I want to relax and enjoy the rest of our time here, rather than spend time engaging with idiots.”

I knew Sophie was right. I wouldn’t have been able to effectively give that dickhead a piece of my mind given my lack of Spanish language skills. I’d probably just have made a scene which, knowing my luck, would have been caught on camera and shared around the globe. But I wished I could have done something. I vowed to read up on the subject when I got home so that, if it ever happened again, I could be a better support to Sophie.

“So, what’s been the highlight of the trip for you?” Sophie asked, changing the subject.

“Hmmm, that’s a tricky one. Probably all of the times you’ve spat your drink everywhere, snorting with laughter at my accent, even if it hasn’t exactly instilled a lot of confidence in my abilities.” The memories eased some of the heaviness in my stomach. God, I loved making Sophie laugh, even if it was unintentional. “What about you?”

“As amazing as the trip has been, I think it’s got to be meeting this little guy.” Sophie leaned down and gave Alfie a pat.

I smiled down at him, watching him melt under her hand.

While I’d been critical about Jenny’s skills as a personal assistant, her skills as a dog trainer were stronger. She’d actually had some success toilet training Alfie—he’d had very few accidents since we had been reunited, and luckily none at all in the hotel.

Ah, Jenny. Thinking about her made my stomach more unsettled again. I turned to Sophie.

“Can I ask for your advice on something? I'm not sure what to do about Jenny. I don’t know if she was to blame for the mix-up with Alfie—it might have been the airline—but even if she wasn’t, she’s dropped the ball so many other times I’ve lost count. I’m at the point where I don’t want to ask her to do anything because it’s faster and I’ll get a better result if I do it myself. I like her as a person, but I think I’m going to have to fire her.” I sighed. “But I really hate conflict, and the thought of firing her makes me sick too. I don’t know what to do.”

Sophie looked thoughtful. “I guess for most jobs you study beforehand or get on-the-job training, or both. And then if you screw up, you’re performance managed. It sounds like she hasn’t had any of that. From what you said, Vanessa just found her at a party and appointed her as your assistant, without any experience or training. Could you find a personal assistant course she could do and try giving her some constructive feedback? It wouldn’t really be fair to fire her without giving her an opportunity to improve first. But, pro tip, definitely don’t do it in your British accent, or she won’t take it seriously.” Her eyes twinkled.

I knew Sophie would have a sensible suggestion. “That’s a good idea. Apart from working in cafes when I was younger, I’ve only ever known acting. And acting didn’t really prepare me for the responsibility of managing employees. I guess I’ve been too conflict-averse to say anything to her, but you’re right, I need to give her a chance first.” I paused and smiled at her. “Speaking of my British accent…So, you’ve now spent almost three days with me speaking my best Queen’s English. What’s the verdict?” While I’d kept my tone light, I felt surprisingly nervous, waiting for Sophie’s opinion of my accent.

“Absolutely magnificent! I couldn’t distinguish your dulcet tones from that of the most noble of dukes,” Sophie said, putting on a posh British accent before falling back into her normal voice. “In all seriousness, despite the fact it’s sent me into hysterical giggles on multiple occasions, I think it’s really, really good. It’s come a long way in the last two weeks.”

Relieved to have Sophie’s stamp of approval, I breathed out, relaxed into my chair, and took another bite of the delicious seafood paella in front of me.

As we sat in the sun, enjoying our last lunch together in Spain, a rush of sadness that this would all be over soon washed over me. Back to the real world meant I wouldn’t wake up to the sound of Sophie and Elliot playing in the living room each morning. Back to the real world meant I wouldn’t get to spend every waking moment together with them. Not only would we be back to living in separate homes, but I’d be starting my grueling filming schedule next week.

With my accent endorsed by Sophie and feeling more comfortable being around other people after spending time out and about with her, I wasn’t as nervous about starting filming as I had been. But I also wasn’t as excited as usual. Filming would leave little time for hanging out with Sophie, Elliot, and Alfie. I’d miss our make-pretend family of four.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SOPHIE

“THE HOTEL WAS amazing! We had two rooftop terraces with incredible views over Barcelona! And we did lots of sightseeing. I’d been nervous about how things would go with Elliot, but having Chris and his driver there made it so easy. And, oh god, the tapas we had were just mind blowing! I bought a recipe book so I can try to recreate them for you sometime.” I couldn’t stop raving to Josh about it. The trip really had exceeded all my expectations.

“Yes, please! I’m getting hungry again just thinking about it.”

We’d stopped in at our local cheap and cheerful Mexican restaurant for a quick dinner before volunteering at Pride House. Josh had scoffed down an enormous burrito with tortilla chips and a vat of guacamole. There was no way he could possibly be hungry. I was halfway through my giant burrito and was already eyeing it with defeat.

“And how did things go, you know, with Chris?”

I sighed. “Well, it certainly didn’t help my crush on him. Elliot spewed on him one morning, and the image of him pulling his T-shirt over his head, his abs rippling and biceps flexing, is just playing on repeat in my head.” It was very distracting.

“I would watch that movie,” Josh said, licking his lips and discovering a stray bit of guacamole in the process, which he quickly devoured.