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And my heart…
I’m dangerously close to hysteria now. McTavish pulls to a stop outside my cottage, looking uncomfortable. He’s out of his depth here, I can tell.
“I ken a boy in Glenroch who could try to fix yer phone,” he says, but I shake my head, not looking at him.
“I don’t think I could afford to pay him,” I say bluntly. “And anyway, I’m better off without it. Especially now that…well, you know.”
Especially now that I’ve gone viral for thesecondtime this year: and for something almost as bad as the first time.
“Well, if ye change yer mind,” McTavish says, kindly, “Ye know where I am.”
“Thanks, McTavish,” I say, smiling weakly. “You’re a good friend. You really are.”
Calling McTavish a ‘friend’ is pushing it a bit. It’s not like we’ve ever been besties. He’s one of the few people in this town who has never judged me, or tried to make me feel bad for the things I’ve done, though, and I feel a rush of gratitude towards him as I open the car door.
I’ll try my best to sneak him a few free pints next time he comes into The Crown, for sure. Assuming they still want me to work there, after today’s little escapade, that is.
“Hey, McTavish,” I say suddenly, twisting around in my seat to face him. “Is it true that Jett and Violet are staying at Emerald View while they’re working on this movie? I’m assuming they are, but—?”
But I need to hear someone actually say it, to convince myself it’s real, and not just some weird nightmare I can’t wake up from.
“I’m no’ really supposed to talk about it,” says McTavish, rubbing his chin. “But, ach, I suppose the word’s out now. Aye. The whole cast’s staying there; well, the main ones, anyway. And that director bloke. The French yin.”
“Justin Duval.”
“Aye. Him. They booked the entire place. Paid extra so they could have it to themselves. Quite a bit extra, as it happens. Andye should see the security they’ve got wi’ them, Lexie. And the luggage! That Violet King had at least 10 suitcases that a’ had to be carried in. She had—”
He stops in mid-sentence, seeing the look on my face.
“Aye. Well. Ye dinnae want to hear about her.”
He looks at me speculatively.
“I could get ye a job at The View,” he says cautiously. “We always need folk there: chambermaids, receptionists… I ken it’s probably no’ the job o’ yer dreams, but it could help tide ye over for a while, if ye need it.”
“I appreciate it,” I tell him. “But no. I couldn’t stand being that close to Jett and Violet. It would be a recipe for disaster. And anyway, Jack and Emerald are friends. Well, sort of. I really don’t want to mess things up for them.”
“Jack and Emerald are in New York,” McTavish says, missing the point. “It’s their belated honeymoon. They dinnae even need to know about it. I’m in charge of hiring staff, anyway.”
“I know, and I don’t want to mess things up for you, either,” I say, touching him lightly on the hand. “You’ve been really good to me, McTavish, but a lift’s as much as I’m going to accept from you, okay?”
McTavish shrugs his shoulders and puts the car into reverse.
“Look, Lexie,” he adds as I get out of the car. “It’ll no be for long. It’s just a few weeks, then they’ll be back in L.A. and everything’ll go back to normal.”
He gives me a cheerful wave as he drives off, but I’m not remotely comforted. Nothing has been “normal” since Jett and I broke up. I don’t think it ever will be again. And, I’m not sure I want things to be “normal” anyway. I was never much of a fan of “normal”: I always thought my life would turn out to bemorethan that, somehow. More than just ordinary ornormal. Definitely more than just a series of minimum wage jobs thatbarely even pay for my beans on toast every night. I still can’t quite believe this is what I’ve come to.
Also, as much as I’ve been dreading the thought of Jett coming here to film this movie, as I walk up the overgrown path that leads to my little pink-painted cottage, I realize I’m also dreading the thought of him leaving again, now that he’s here.
It makes no sense.
At the same time, though, it makes all the sense in the world. Because if Jett’s here, in Heather Bay, there’s always a chance of me seeing him; and as painful as that will be — alreadyhasbeen — it’s still better thannotseeing him.
When he goes home, I know that’s it. It really will be over between us, with no chance of things changing. And, okay, there’s not much chance of thatnow, either — not if today’s meeting is anything to go by — but still. When he goes home, I know for sure that I’ll never see him again. Right now, I still might. And I’m Bad Lexie again, now. Who knows what Bad Lexie might be capable of?
“Lexie! Hey!”
A soft, American-accented voice breaks into my thoughts, and I look up in surprise to see a woman standing at my front door. She’s wearing a baggy pink cardigan with faded blue jeans, and is smiling shyly at me while clutching a bottle of wine, her hair blowing untidily around her face.
