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Need to see you.
Mum:
Breakfast is waiting.
Mum:
Sending my car. Be ready in fifteen.
He dragged his hand over his face. What the hell does she want?
Evie’s arms hugged his middle. “Is it waffle o’clock?” She placed a kiss below his ear then rested her chin on his shoulder. “Or time for more persuading?”
Nick looked back, catching an anticipative glint in her eyes. He suppressed a frown for her benefit. “I wish. It’s my mum. She wants to meet in Stromness for breakfast.”
Lifting her head, Evie frantically swiped at her smudged eye makeup. “Ooh, she’s here?! Can I come?”
“She’s not like your mum, Tigs. She can be…difficult.”
“I know. But I have to meet her sometime, right?”
Nick didn’t have the heart to say no.
* * *
“This series is attracting the crème de la crème of young British talent.” Kiki Balfour tapped the thick script with an impatient finger. “All your contemporaries are tripping over themselves, begging to get attached to this project, so the sooner you start reading, the better. We’ll run lines on the flight home, get you prepped for Tuesday’s audition. Polly’s already booked you a slot.” The forty-something actress tossed back the sunny dregs of her second mimosa then straightened the collar of her burgundy sheath dress.
Bloody typical. Sat across the table, Nick fumed over his Kiki-ordered bowl of porridge. She barely said hello to Evie and now this? The pungent smell of hairspray prickled his nose as his mother patted her jet-black tresses, twisted tight into a headache-inducing top knot. No doubt, the industrial-strength lacquer had been applied generously by her ever-present stylist in the hopes of combating Orkney’s relentless winds. His gaze followed the sweep of her hand. An escaped tendril defiantly dangled beyond her French manicure.
Nick bit back a smile and said, “I’m not flying to London.”
Kiki shoved aside her untouched egg white omelet. “Well, you’re not staying here.” She sneered, her eyes homing in on the silver Evie dangling from Nick’s neck. His mother’s hatred of the islands was legendary. While her boys visited their grandmother each summer, she’d remain in London for polo season (which bored her senseless), citing an “aversion to salty air, small minds, and silly accents.”
Nick glanced sidelong at Evie. Wearing his beloved bowling shirt, she hid behind her bangs and chewed a small bite of maple syrup-drenched French toast. “I’m twenty-one, Mum, not twelve.” He dragged his spoon through the gloopy oats. “I am staying—till uni resumes next month. I’ve already arranged it with Gran. And Dad said—”
“DON’T!”
Nick’s gaze flitted up.
“Don’t you DARE mention that louse, not after he paraded his latest tryst all over social media! She’s YOUR age for heaven’s sake.” Kiki’s outburst drew curious looks from a neighboring table of guidebook-flipping tourists. “Of all people, Nikolai…” She pouted her plumped-up lips and discarded her empty glass on the table. “I thought you’d be on my side.”
Mid-swallow, Evie silently avoided the passive-aggressive circus across the table and drifted toward her boyfriend.
“No, I’m on my side, Mum,” Nick batted back confidently. “I haven’t worked this damn hard for two years just to blow off my final year on some half-baked film. For fuck’s sake, it’s based on a stupid theme park ride!”
Lips knotting, his mother looked like she was chewing a wasp. “Nikolai, language!”
“I shouldn’t be surprised.” He rejected her admonishment. “It’s not like you ever ask about uni, but for the record, I’m thriving! My grades are good, I’m learning loads, and my mental health has never been better. I’m even seeing a therapist.”
Kiki flinched.
“So, yeah, next month, I’ll head back to Salford, finish my degree, then come next August”—with a smile, Nick gathered Evie’s hand proudly—“we’ll get a flat in London near Evie’s uni and I’ll see what’s on offer acting-wise. I’m not making any promises, though. I might work behind the scenes for a bit instead, put my degree to good use.”
“Oh. I see.” Kiki dropped her napkin on the table. “Twenty-one years young and you’ve got it all figured out. I knew that university would put all sorts of rubbish in your head.” A skittish server leaned in and swapped a fresh mimosa for Kiki’s used glass, its rim tattooed with scarlet lipstick. “Should I assume there’s no changing your mind?”
“Correct.” Nick gave Evie’s hand a squeeze and let go.
“Principle photography doesn’t start in London till next summer,” added Kiki.
