“Uh, hi… Mrs Haegan?” he starts, looking very uncomfortable, as he clears his throat and his eyes dart to me. I mouth ‘I’m sorry’ before moving to stand beside him to make the formal introductions.
“Jonathan, this is my mother, Madeline Haegan. Mum, Jonathan Masters. She was just leaving though.”
“No I wasn’t. I have time for a cuppa to chat with your new beau.”
“Oh god, mum, don’t call him that.”
But it doesn’t matter what I say. She slips her arm through his and guides him toward my dining room table, chattering about utter nonsense as he looks to me for help. I simply smile and shrug. There’s not much you can do when my mother sets her mind on something.
Moving into the kitchen, I switch my coffee machine on to make my mother something to drink as she and Jonathan take a seat at the table. “I can’t tell you how lovely it is to meet you in person,” she chatters. “I keep seeing you and my daughter together in the tabloids, and all the ladies at the day club keep asking me what’s going on. I keep saying, ‘Nothing. They’re just friends. My daughter is dating Brad the chef.’ What happened to Brad the chef, Sandra? You don’t tell me anything anymore.”
I place her mug in front of her and take a seat next to Jonathan to lend him my support, as few men have made it through one of my mother’s interrogations intact. “Mother,” I say in warning. “Don’t be so rude. Jonathan knows all about Brad, and Brad knows about Jonathan. But if you must know, I’m not seeing Brad anymore.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I’ve been struggling to keep this hidden. If I had to explain it to your father, he’d have a stroke.”
“Explain what, mum? He knows about my friendship with Jonathan, doesn’t he? It’s been all over the papers.”
“Oh no, I’ve been hiding the entertainment section of the paper and flicking the channel every time ET comes on. I haven’t even been buying the Woman’s Weekly or New Idea. He’d be very upset with me over it all, but it’s the only way. He wouldn’t understand you being seen with two men. He’s very old fashioned. But, now that you’ve made your choice, I don’t need to hide it anymore.” She turns to Jonathan. “Tell me, Jonathan dear, what are your intentions toward my daughter?”
“Mum!” I yell.
“What? Someone has to ask him. Especially after, you know…the rock star,” she says behind her hand as if Jonathan can’t hear her.
“He knows about Marcus too, mum.”
“Oh, I see,” she smiles, lifting up her coffee and taking a sip as if she isn’t the most embarrassing person on this planet.
Seeing my distress, Jonathan reaches over and takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“I promise Mrs Haegen, my inten–”
“Madeline, please,” my mother interrupts. “Or Madz, I’m happy with Madz too.”
“No one calls you ‘Madz’,” I hiss at her.
“What? I can be cool…”
“Oh my god,” I say, placing my hand over my face as Jonathan gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“As I was saying Madz, my intentions toward your daughter are nothing but honourable. I care only about her happiness,” he states and honestly, I swoon a little.
“And what about this reputation you have? I’ve read articles about you and your ‘escapades’. Can you guarantee that these things won’t happen now that you’re with my daughter?”
I go to say something but Jonathan beats me to it.
“I can guarantee that for as long as your daughter will allow me in her life that I won’t look at another woman. I can’t. Your daughter has my heart.”
His eyes meet mine and I struggle not to allow a massive goofy smile to take over my face. I have his heart. He loves me. I don’t know what to say in return. But of course, my mother has something to say.
“That all sounds very lovely, Jonathan. But you’re an actor. How do I know that that isn’t just a speech from one of your movies?” she counters.
“Well, you yourself said you’ve seen everything I’ve been in. Do you remember that speech?”
She narrows one of her eyes. “No. I don’t. So, you’ve got me there. Alright, I believe you. So I’ll put a good word in for you with Mr Haegan,” she says, pushing away from the table. “Just don’t hurt my daughter, Mr Masters, or I promise you, I will rain down a hell storm that will make that car through your window seem like a mere imposition.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, nodding at her in respect.
“Madz, please. We’re all friends here,” she smiles, then she gives me a wink and says that she’ll let herself out. As she leaves, I lean on my hands and slump in my chair.
“Oh my god. She’s so embarrassing.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“How can you say that? That was absolutely mortifying.”
“I can say that, because you haven’t met my mother yet.”
“Is she just as bad?” I ask, hopefully.
“No. She’s much, much worse.”
“I can’t wait,” I grimace, wondering if perhaps I should rethink this whole dating thing after all.
Chapter 19
“Ok, so which script is your favourite?” Jonathan asks, holding them both up while I sit in front of him and try to decide. We’ve just spent the majority of the day pouring over them and weighing up which is the better choice.
“Well, I guess it depends on whether you want to grow as an actor by taking a risk and trying something new, or if you want to do something that’s a sure thing. Although for me, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with all the love scenes in your romantical option.”
He grins and lowers the scripts to his lap. “The other one has sex scenes in it as well. And based on the way it’s written, they’re going to be a lot more explicit compared to Trials of Love and Failure.”
Rolling my eyes, I reach out and pull the scripts from his lap, flicking through them both, not really reading them, but thinking about the reality of all of this. “Why do you have to do them at all?” I ask in a small voice, knowing that it’s an unreasonable expectation to have, but honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle knowing he’s locking lips with another woman on screen. I’m feeling jealous and possessive, and I don’t want to share him.
I consider the affect he has on my body when we’re clothed and the thought of him going through the motions with some other woman, even if it’s all an act, stick hard in my throat.
Taking the scripts from my hands, he leans forward and places them on the coffee table, before returning to me and taking my hands in his. “I have to, because it’s part of being the leading man. But if it puts your mind at rest, I have never slept with one of my co-stars or any other actresses for that matter.”
“You haven’t?”
He shakes his head, “No. I have a fairly strict rule about workplace hook ups. They burn bridges and make things awkward, so I’ve always kept my work life and my private life separate.”
“This is hard for me, Jonathan,” I start, trying to put my feelings and apprehension into words.
“I know. It would probably worry me more if you weren’t a bit concerned.”
“Why?”
“Because it would mean you probably don’t care about me as much as I care about you. Because, Red, I’ve got to tell you, the thought of you with another man makes me feel crazy, like screaming rampage crazy, so I get it. We just have to work a way around it. How would you feel about being on set with me?”
“But that would mean going to the US with you,” I respond quickly.
“Do you really want to stay here while I’m gone for the good part of a year working on this movie?”
“Oh god. I didn’t even think about this part.” I bite my lip, running over all the different scenarios I can think of as to how our future turns out and honestly, I’m struggling to find a scenario where this works out for us.
“Hey, I can see you getting overwhelmed
about this. But it doesn’t need to be as hard as you think. You fly around the world to attend different press activities and do interviews and whatnot right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Well, how about you talk to your editor about becoming a correspondent of sorts? That way, we could travel together and you can still do the job you love.”
“I suppose it’s something I could look in to. But I don’t know, Jonathan. Do you really think that’s going to work?”
“Why wouldn’t it? In case you haven’t noticed, we spend a hell of a lot of time around each other as it is. But if it’s too much for you, maybe you could fly in and out when it suits you and I’ll come back here whenever I get a break…I don’t know. But we can make it work for the both of us, surely.”
“OK,” I nod, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. “If we’re going to do this, we should do it properly. Logically, I can work from wherever the story is, so I’ll talk to my boss and Monday and we’ll work something out.”
A grin spreads across his face as I speak. “You won’t regret this,” he assures me, pulling me towards him and planting a happy kiss upon my lips.
And as he pulls back, I reach over and pick up the script I like best. “I hope I don’t, Jonathan. But I promise, I’ll keep an open mind,” I say as I place the thriller in his hands.
“This one?” he confirms.
To which I nod. “Arse shot and all,” I say, pushing that nagging feeling, twisting at my stomach as deep down as I can.
***
For the next week, things carry on in what could be considered our current state of normal. Jonathan and I see each other daily. We make out and dry hump like teenagers and part ways before anything gets too intense, only to spend the rest of the night texting or talking on the phone until all hours of the morning.
My editor was more than delighted when I told him why I wanted to go to the US. He felt that I’d be in the prime position to get to know the right people and talk to them about Voyeur and our commitment to realism. So my request to become a US correspondent was granted and our tickets were booked and our visas rushed through.
There’s now only a week to go until we head over there, and I’m a mixture of excitement and nerves as I wonder if I’m making the right choice. As much as I’ve grown to care for Jonathan since I meet him, I still have that fear that this is all temporary and that the moment he’s had his fill of me, he’ll cast me aside.
My mother thinks I should follow my heart, but I’m really afraid that my heart is leading me astray.
Chapter 20
Put some clothes on. I’m taking you out. My phone tells me, interrupting my Sunday morning thoughts as I sit and make a list of what I need to pack for LA and what I need to do before I go.
Leaving the country for so long is a huge undertaking, and while Jonathan has told me his people can help me make my plans, I’d really rather do it myself so I don’t worry constantly that something was missed.
Setting my pen aside, I tap the message on the screen so I can reply.
Me: What kind of clothes? Where are we going?
Jonathan: Something nice. I’m taking you to meet my parents.
Me: Is this some kind of joke?
Jonathan No. I’ll be there in ten.
Holy hell. I’m about to meet his parents. As if temporarily relocating with him to another country wasn’t intense enough, things just got way more serious.
I rush into my bedroom and begin sifting through my wardrobe for something to wear, deciding that my clothes are either too serious, or too flirty, or too dowdy, or too basic. I don’t want them to think I’m just a blonde bimbo who’s only with their son because of his fame when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Pulling off my clothes, I try on a tan summer dress that has a pretty white floral pattern around the trim then I pull it off again, deciding that it’s too short and too immature for a meeting with parents. Oh god. Why am I so nervous about this?
“Now, that isn’t going to be OK,” Jonathan comments, as he appears in my bedroom doorway and finds me standing in my bra and panties. “There is no way I’ll be able to keep my intentions pure if you’re only wearing that.” He reaches out and grabs at the air comically, biting the knuckle on his other hand as he lets out a groan. “Oh god, it doesn’t matter, I’m going to be thinking about how sexy you look in those little pink panties, Red. I just…I can’t…put something on!” He slaps his hand over his eyes and reaches out to shut my door. “I’ll be waiting out here, trying to get my hard-on to go down.”
Smiling, I shake my head as I make a snap decision to wear an A-line pale blue and white dress that comes down to my knees and a pair of white sandals to go with it. I pull my blonde hair up into a loose bun and put on minimal makeup. When I step back and survey myself in the mirror, I think I’m about as ready as I’m going to get.
Leaving my mess of a room, I step out into the living room where Jonathan is waiting for me. “Perfect,” he says, standing up to slide his hands around my waist and kiss me. “But I’m still seeing those panties when I look at you, Red, so.fucking.hot,” he growls into my ear, causing me to blush and burn for him at the same time.
“We could always stay here and…you know. You’ve held off for a while.”
“You don’t know how much I want to take you up on that offer, Red, but that would be too easy, and I don’t think you’re ready yet.”
“I feel ready.”
He looks down at me, studying my face as his fingers gently brush along my jawline. “It’s still too soon,” he whispers, reaching down to take my hand in his. “Come on, they’ll be waiting for us.”
I bite my lips in a smile and follow him out to the car where he holds the door open for me. I feel like a teenager when I’m with him. We’re doing adult things and making adult decisions but the waiting, the anticipation, remind me of a time when sex was something you only did when you felt sure you were in love.
I like it.
***
“This is it,” Jonathan states as he slows his car to a stop by the curb in front of a very modest looking brown brick, 80s style house.
“Really?” I respond, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.
“Not what you expected?”
“No,” I admit. “I expected something grand with a circular driveway and a white columned entrance.”
He lets out a laugh and reaches over to point past me. “See that tree over there? I used to climb it with my brothers and we’d throw water balloons at passers-by. When I was seven, the branch broke and I fell down and broke my wrist. See that lemon tree? We used to pick them in the summer and eat them straight off the tree. They were sweet like lemonade.”
“So this is where you grew up.”
“Yeah. I offered to buy my parents a fancy house in a fancy suburb, but they weren’t interested. They built this with their own money and raised three boys in it. They don’t want to leave.”
He looks up at the house that used to be his home and I can see the happiness it holds for him.
“You must have had a really great childhood.”
“We were ratbags. My poor mum used to try and keep us in line and she’d whack us all with the wooden spoon, but she gave up pretty fast because we just stole all her spoons and threw them over the fence.”
“She hit you with a wooden spoon?” I question in surprise.
“It wasn’t like that. It never hurt, we were all ruff-nuts. We drove her to the end of her tether constantly.”
“Hey, Jon-o,” a voice calls to the left of the car. “You coming in, or making out with your girlfriend? If you are, can I take some pictures? I could sell them for a few bucks, I reckon.”
Jonathan hits a button and the electric window on my side slides down to reveal a young Jonathan-look-a-like with slightly longer hair but just as charming a smile.
“How’s it going, Darc,” Jonathan smiles through the window. “This is Sandra. Sandra, this is my youn
gest brother, Darcy. You can call him ‘Darc’ like the rest of us do.”
“Hi,” I say in greeting as I offer him my hand and he shakes it rapidly.
“Come inside. Mum’s been cooking up a storm. She’s all excited that you’re bringing a girl home.”
I give Darcy a questioning look and he explains, “He didn’t bother bringing the last one around at all, and the one before that. He hid until they were engaged and the papers told us.”
My eyebrows shoot up in an expression that I hope reads, are you serious?
In response, Jonathan shrugs and has the decency to look a little sheepish, but secretly, I’m a little happy. It means he really is serious about me if he’s bringing me to meet his family already.
“Let’s go inside,” he says. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of them.”
We get out of the car, and he clasps my hand, entwining our fingers securely as he leads me into the house to meet the rest of his family, as Darcy regales us with tales of his latest football match and how his team stormed the field and won against a supposedly unbeatable team.
“He wants to go professional,” Jonathan tells me as an aside when we make it to the front door and Darcy yells that we’re here.
As we walk through the door, I’m pleased to see the comfortable surroundings that are really similar to Jonathan’s own place. Although, on the walls here, are photos upon photos of family memories. As I take a quick sweep of the images, it’s hard for me to tell which brother is which because they all look so much alike.
Still holding my hand, Jonathan takes me with him, following Darcy through to the kitchen and dining area where the rest of his family are busy either eating or preparing food.
“Hello!” his mother calls and there’s a chorus of greeting, hugging and backslapping between each member of the family before they all look to me, ready for Jonathan to make the introductions.
“Everyone, this is Sandra. Sandra, I’d like you to meet my middle brother, Coop, or Cooper if you want to be formal.” Coop is another Jonathan clone. I tell him hello and shake his hand politely. “This is my dad, Bill,” he continues.
A Beautiful Star (Beautiful Series, Book 5) Page 11
