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“Please still be here, Jack.”
Picking along the hillside, I pull out my phone to text Bobby.Can’t make dinner. Not feeling well.I start a message to Jack but stop. What I have to say to him will not happen in a text. I need to touch him. Feel those strong hands pulling me home against him.
The anger and hurt from those last awful moments in the armory slow my steps. What’s been going through his mind during these days apart? For me, I’ve been with him as I wrote of the desperate love between Donal Cam and Nieve. He’s been alone.
For our fictional counterparts, fate opens wounds that need a new lifetime to heal. We are not them. Jack and Gilly can be together, stay together.
As I approach the main road to The Clan, I hear a low rumble in the distance. From my vantage point on high ground, I see the crowd gathered near Dev’s little shack. Now there are also Garda cars near the entrance to prevent fans from streaming onto company lands.The Chieftain’s Sonhas hit the world like an atomic blast. Meg’s mirrored love story of Jack and Niks add to the frenzy for people first enchanted by Deidre’s books and now the show.
Doubt claws at my chest. Life isn’t what it was on that first weekend when Jack gave me the Ring of Kerry and welcomed me into his home. Infinite complications have risen like hidden spikes from the ground to stand between us.
Finally freeing myself from Treat opens my eyes to the gift I have in Jack. Do I still have it? Did I forfeit our future when I chose my position on the show over him?
Murph, the guard in the foyer of the studio, is his cheery self. “Made it in before the rain, I see.”
I smile back. “Have I been here long enough to claim luck of the Irish?”
He chuckles.
I nod toward the crowd at the gate. “Getting crazy out there?”
“Mad as a box of frogs.” Murph gestures across the sheep pasture. “Poor buggers haven’t found our canny back way yet.”
The back way.The road to Jack’s little house. The one I haven’t seen but Niks has. I shake off the pang of jealousy. God, I hope Jack hasn’t left The Clan.
“Are they still filming?”
Murph looks at his watch. “Supposed to be done.” I use my fob to open the studio door.
Each heartbeat is stronger than the last as I approach the sound stages. The red light outside the double doors is off. Are they done filming or just between takes? I ease open the door and my hopes sink. Only a few stray crew members remain near the massive castle interior. They tidy up and wind cables into neat piles. A single wardrobe assistant wheels a rack of costumes toward the design hub. I don’t see Alan Rafier, Danna, or any P.A.s. No hairy clansmen either.
Is Jack still in his dressing room? I should text, but I can’t risk it. I don’t know who he might be with. Does he have me coded on his phone like he’sCheese and Onion Piein my contacts? It doesn’t matter. I want to stand in front of him and tell him I’ve finished being stupid.
Steeling myself, I head toward the dressing rooms. I can say I’m looking for Danna or Bobby if anyone catches me with Jack. That’s plausible. At the last minute, I choose the corridor to the writer’s room. I’ll head all the way down and approach the dressing rooms from the far end. Coming from the less traveled direction will give me a chance to see what’s up ahead before I step in it.
Doolin’s classroom is empty. No one graces the hallways. The writer’s domain is a ghost town. I’m probably missing a pub call and the round paid for by the writers’ bribes to Bobby.
I swing around the connecting hallway to the dressing rooms. Crap, it looks like everyone has gone home for the night. There’s only one thing left to do, go find Jack’s house.
Two figures approach at the far end of the hall from the direction of the sound stages. My heart sings when I see one of them is Jack. A second later, the song comes to an end when he draws Niks into a tight embrace. They stand together a beat too long while his nose disappears into her hair to whisper in her ear. It’s too dim to tell if his lips make contact, but it’s enough to send me back the way I came.
“Too late.” I clap a hand over my mouth, praying they didn’t hear me. Neither spares a glance my way.
The closeness I just witnessed is no publicity driven intimacy for the media. Jack and Niks are having a moment alone in a dark hallway. Probably planning their evening. After I turned my back on what we had, he’s accepted life will be easier with Niks. They can be together on and off screen without any flak from Meg or the fans. She has her warrior and he, his lady.
The high that fueled me from my realization on the hilltop about how deeply I love Jack dies. I had my chance at love, and I didn’t trust it. I’m no better than Treat, who devalued our relationship.
My legs hold me long enough to reach my office. I drop my head onto my hands while the world spins.
“Gillian?”
I tilt my face just enough to see the doorway. Niks leans against the frame. Can fate bitch slap me any harder? She’s the last person in the universe I have any desire to see.
“I need to ask a favor.” She flows into my office. My eyes flick to my computer. Jeez, I’ve been slumped at my desk for nearly an hour.
“I’m not comfortable with my dialogue for tomorrow. It’s harsh. Danna is brilliant, but she sharpens my edges too much. Nieve is strong, but not brutal.”
I have to take a few deep breaths before answering so I don’t snap at her. “You really should talk to Danna, it’s her script.”
