Page 14 of The Actress Unscripted

“I get it, Lexie,” she says earnestly, leaning over to pat my hand. “Really, I do.”

“You do?”

“Of course. It’s early days. You don’t want to jinx things by saying too much. I totally understand. I have an aunt who’s a psychic guide,” she adds, seriously. “She’s always telling me how important it is not to tempt fate.”

I take a sip of my wine so I don’t have to say anything. I don’t know what a “psychic guide” is supposed to be, but I have a feeling Grace’s aunt isn’t a very good one, somehow.

“Wait!” she says, spilling even more wine. I’m going to have to give this couch a good scrub when she leaves. “Your McTavish. Does he work at the place we’re staying, by any chance? Emerald something?”

“Emerald View,” I say, trying not to wince at the idea of the five-time winner of the annual Heather Bay Pie-Eating Contest being described as “my” McTavish. “And, yes, he does. He’s a partner in it, I think.”

“I knew I recognized him from somewhere!” squeals Grace, oblivious to my discomfort. “He helped check us in when we arrived last night. Oh, he really isgreat, Lexie,” she goes on, staring dreamily into the middle-distance. “That accent! I cantotallysee you two together. Both blonde, both blue eyed… think of how cute your babies will be!”

I lower my wine glass, feeling suddenly nauseous.

I can’t let this go on. I have to tell her the truth.

“Grace, look, this is a mistake—” I begin, before stopping suddenly.

A mistake.

Wasn’t that what Jett said aboutme? Right before his girlfriend — the one he swore he’d never go back to, becauseIwas the only woman he’d ever love — called me ‘pathetic’ and ‘cringe’?

Thatwas definitely a mistake.Irefuse to be one, though. I won’t let them think of me that way. I refuse to be a “poor thing” toanyone.

Iwon’tbe.

“Uh, Lexie? What’s a mistake?”

Grace is waiting for an answer, her drink paused halfway to her lips.

I attempt to toss my hair defiantly over my shoulder, forgetting it’s still scraped back in its greasy bun, and treat her to my very brightest fake smile.

“Oh, it’s just, me and McTavish,” I say, leaning forward conspiratorially. “We kind of promised we’d keep it on the down low for now. It’s…” I glance down coyly. “It’s more exciting that way, you know?”

Grace grins in delight.

“You go, girl,” she says, clinking her glass against mine. “Sexy Lexie isback!”

“Yay!” I agree weakly, forcing myself to smile even wider. “I’m… definitely back. But… you’ll keep it to yourself, Grace, yeah? Ireallydon’t want anyone to know about it yet.”

Particularly not McTavish, say. Because, as surprising as it would be to everyone else in this town to hear that Alfonso McTavish and Lexie Steele are having secret trysts, I suspect no one would be more surprised than the man himself.

Still. Grace is the only one who knows. She’s the only one I’ve lied to.

That’s fine, isn’t it? That’s not too bad. And it was just a tiny little white lie, anyway. Which means that, as long as she keeps it to herself, I guess there’s no harm done.

Is there?

Six

The next morning I get up early so I have time to wash my hair in the tepid bathwater I’ve run. It has a slightly brownish tinge to it, for some reason. That… can’t be good?

I feel better once my hair is clean again, though, and I take a bit of time picking out an outfit that says “Badass Bish Who Doesn’t Give a Shit” before layering the last of the dried-out mascara onto my lashes, and pinching my cheeks, like an Edwardian lady in search of a beau.

The pimple is still shining out like a beacon on my chin, but there isn’t much I can do about that for now, so I grab my bag and keys and throw open the door of the cottage, shrieking in fright when I find myself face-to-face with McTavish, who’s standing on the doorstep, like a vampire waiting to be invited in.

“Quick, get inside,” I say, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into the hallway before anyone has a chance to see us together.

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