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His lips found my chilled nose, my cheeks, my eyelids.“You can have as many minutes as you want, princess.”
“Maybe ten then,” I said breezily, but the words I’d been holding inside myself for days threatened to slip free.I love him.The feeling was so big, I was scared it would come out carelessly, like spilled milk pooling across a counter. I didn’t want to pressure him, especially when I had no answers for what came next. Ultimately, my life was in London—it had to be. Being in love didn’t change that.
The entire journey back down the mountain and the car ride home, Iwasthe quiet one. Mal walked steadily at my side, reminiscing on times he’d camped here with his brothers, lifting me over rocks and pointing out plants by name. The new level of ease he felt around me made the words that much harder to hold in.
Did he love me too? It felt like he might.
Was there a way I could stay here permanently?
Did I evenwantto stay here permanently?
The questions spiralled inside me. I hated feeling so uncertain. Ihatedleaving things unsaid. The“I love you”felt like a ticking time bomb in my chest—at any moment, I would just explode and shout the words in his face.
As though the universe itself had grown tired of my shit and decided to speed along my decision-making, we found the postman waiting outside the manor, waving to us as Mal’s Land Rover made easy work of the dirt lane. Clyde, the stout but cheery forty-something man, flashed me his usual flirtatious grin, stating he had a letter that required my signature. Mal practically ripped the heavy envelope from the poor man’s hands.
A script. I recognised its weight the moment Mal placed it in my palms. The single one I’dphysicallyreceived since being here. That alone had to mean something. Angela had sent a handful over by email, but nothing caught my interest.
Heart in my throat, I raced into the kitchen, tearing open the envelope. Pausing to read the handwritten message on a pink Post-it.Time to get back in the game?Then I saw the name of the director and I almost blacked out.Ainsley Clarke.
A three-time Oscar winning director.She only made a movie every five or six years.
I flipped the pages with numb fingers, finding another note on the first page.They want you for the lead. It’s not a done deal, you’d still need to screen test. But you’re their first choice.First choice was underlined three times.
“What is it?” Mal asked, unlacing his boots.
I could barely form words.“It’s a… it’s a script. From an agency hoping to sign me.”
His expression shuttered in a way I couldn’t understand, but he stalked closer, reading over my shoulder, attention falling straight to the note.“That’s blackmail,” he said.“How do you know once you’ve signed the contract they’ll even get you a screen test?”
That old fear, the worry I could trust no one in the industry but myself, rose and came crashing like a tidal wave.“My friend Sydney is signed with them, she rates them highly.”
“The friend who barely ever calls?” His words weren’t cruel but still, I flinched. He was right, my and Sydney’s friendship was a little shallow and she could be selfish at times. That didn’t make her a bad person, it was just the way things were.
“You don’t think I should do it?” My gut twisted as I waited for him to answer, not knowing what I even wanted that answer to be.
He blew out a shaky breath, and right as I thought he was about to say,No, don’t do it princess,stay here with me, he said,“I’m not saying that. I only want you to be careful, cover all your bases, put a clause in your contract that says you can leave at any time you want.”
I froze, staring at him. It was like he knew. Like somehow he understood every foolish mistake that had led me to this moment. I waited for him to say more but he only stared at me steadily.
I crossed the space to him, letting the script thud to the ground between us, wrapping my body around his.“You’re right.” The words muffled against his soft jumper.“I won’t decide anything right away.”
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
The declaration pulsed then sank to the pit of my stomach, still as true as it was an hour ago, only now, I wasn’t sure what I wanted.
31
MAL
Roots – Grace Davies
“How are the tasting sessions coming along?” my mum asked, looking between April and me. April glanced at me while loading salad onto her plate, determining whether I wanted her to be the one to answer. I gave her the smallest nod, it was her brain child after all.
Between April and Heather, they launched into a stream of amusing stories about the tastings they’d hosted over the past few weeks. Heather, making the twins giggle with her impression of a group of young guys upon realising their celebrity crush would be their guide for the afternoon.“Umm… I… uh”—she rubbed a trembling hand exaggeratedly across her brow—“I used to have a poster of you on my wall… the one in the white bikini.” I did not enjoy this story.
