Goosebumps spread across my skin and a deep shiver runs through me, and not in a good way. I notice a lone figure leaning against a tree across the road, watching me. There’s no light behind them to show me who it is.
A taxi pulls up and the porter lifts my case and I climb in. I look through the back window as the black cab moves away and the figure steps out into the street. I still can’t get a clear view of whoever it is, but in my heart I already know.
Donovan.
“YOU’RE STILL REALLY FREAKED OUT!” It’s not a question from Connor but a statement as we stroll through Kensington Gardens. It’s dry and bright but with a slight wind bringing the temperature down. Still nice enough for a relaxing walk hand-in-hand.
“Yes. I know it was him. He was standing there just watching me. How long had he been hanging around? Had he been watching me the whole time Will was taking pictures of me outside?”
“I blame myself for Trevor being held up.”
“Don’t you dare. This isn’t your fault. I should be able to go about my business and not have to look over my shoulder. I think his aim is to frighten me, but I’m not sure why.”
“Well, I’ll be with you now all the time we’re here in London. And Trevor has already spoken to Johnathon to see what they can do, although he hasn’t approached you in person and there’s been no further messages from him.”
We stop in front of the Peter Pan statue to the west of Long Water, in the same spot as Peter lands his bird-nest boat in the story, ‘The Little White Bird.’ The bronze statue features Peter Pan surrounded by squirrels, mice, rabbits, and fairies. It’s stunning. A family nearby runs to catch up with their little girl who wants to have her picture taken beside Peter Pan. I watch on, smiling.
“You’re in a world of your own.”
I loved getting my picture taken when I was her age. Hopefully my own kids will be the same, if I’m lucky enough to be blessed with any. “Yes, I was. Come on. Let’s finish our walk and then we should go for lunch. I’m starting to feel hungry.”
“Why didn’t you say?” He kisses me on my nose before pulling me along with him. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned I was hungry because now I’m sure I won’t get to enjoy our relaxing stroll through the gardens.
We pause briefly at The Albert Memorial; it is one of London’s most ornate monuments. It commemorates the death of Prince Albert in 1861 of typhoid at the age of forty-two. There’s lots of tourists listening to a guide telling them all about Prince Albert. It’s all very interesting.
“Do you fancy anything in particular to eat?” Connor asks.
“Not really.”
“I think we should walk back and head to Notting Hill. There’s a beautiful Italian restaurant that I know you’ll love.” I nod in agreement.
We turn around and continue walking in silence. I’m trying not to dwell on last night, but it has taken me by surprise and, as Connor says, completely freaked me out. Part of me wants to get in touch with Donovan to find out what the hell he wants from me, but the sensible side tells me to stay as far away from him as I possibly can, because he’s only going to bring me more trouble.
Yes, I’m curious to find out, but I’m sure Johnathon will be able to fill me in in due course. Dad was on the phone first thing this morning, checking up on me. He wanted Connor and me to come home early, but I told him no, that I wanted to enjoy our time together because when we go home, life is going to be hectic for us until we get ourselves into a routine.
Tomorrow morning, I have a meeting with the director and casting producer and Trevor, for the movie. When I read the script, it had all the feels, but one thing is putting me off. Returning to L.A.
If I get offered the part, I have plenty of time to think about it and sort myself out; filming doesn’t begin for another three months.
A shiver runs through my body, much the same as it did last night. I find myself looking around us, glancing briefly over my shoulder, looking for something or someone. There’s lots of people in the park but no one I recognise.
I’m just being foolish. This is my imagination running riot. I’ve never experienced feelings of being unsafe, but there’s something bothering me.
Internally, I give myself a telling off.
Connor stops walking and I only notice when he pulls me roughly back, spinning me around to face him. “You really are a million miles away today,” he says, a softness in his voice.
“Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“I know that, but you don’t have to keep everything bottled up. I’m here for you. I’ve always been a good listener.”
He pulls my body tight to his and I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes momentarily, accepting the comfort he’s offering me. When I’m around him and things seem out of my reach, as though my life is spinning out of control, he grounds me. He doesn’t usually have to say anything, just having him near or his arms around me is enough. I don’t want to tell him there’s a feeling of unease sweeping over me. I’m not even sure if that’s what it is.
“Better?” he asks, tilting my head until I can see his bright eyes clearly.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He presses his lips lightly to mine and the minute they connect, I feel the urge to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away, smirking. “No, you don’t. Lunch.”
“Fine.” I sigh heavily.
We walk to the restaurant, although not in silence. Connor talks and it keeps my mind off everything that’s going on. The restaurant sits on a corner and has outdoor seating, but I’m hoping Connor doesn’t want to sit outside and watch the world go by because I’d much rather be inside. He opens the door and we step inside. It’s rustic, and the smell that hits me straight away is heavenly.
I’m sure I hear my own stomach grumble and I’m not that surprised. We didn’t have breakfast this morning. As soon as we were up and ready, I just wanted to go for a walk.
A waiter with a heavy Italian accent seats us in a table at the back of the restaurant, giving us an open view of the chefs at work in the kitchen. Connor orders a bottle of wine along with some water and I sit back and take in our surroundings. Wooden beam ceilings, mosaic tiles on the floor. It’s perfect. We read the menu, even though I have an idea what Connor will pick. The waiter brings over our drinks and asks if we’re ready to order. “Can I have Carpaccio di Manzo con Instalitina di Rucola e Parmigano to start. Followed by Gamberoni in Padella?”
“Of course; fine choice. And for you?” The waiter turns his attention to Connor.
“He’ll have Ribollita alla Toscana, followed by Filleto di Vitello alla Griglia con Zucchine Croccanti. Am I correct?” I ask smugly.
“Yes,” Connor says, and the waiter leaves our table, looking amused. “How do you know that?”
“We’ve been to enough Italian restaurants over the years for me to notice. You always pick veal if it’s on the menu and, as for the soup, you’ve had it a few times and nothing else on the menu appealed to me for you,” I say, sitting back in my chair and watching him as I take a sip of the wine that has been poured.
“You’ve been very observant, haven’t you?”
“Yes and always. Even down to the fact that over the years you’ve rarely dated and you seldom get drunk.”
“I had someone in my life, and she was worth waiting for. As for getting drunk, it’s not really my style.” I lift my now shaky hand to my mouth and gasp. My heart swells at his words. “Ella, I can’t pretend with you about how I feel. Not anymore. Not when I don’t have to keep it bottled up inside. I know how I feel about you, but I’ll only say those words when I know you’re ready to hear them.”
Tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t want to cry. Not today. Not even with happy thoughts and feelings. He reaches across, removing my hand from my mouth, “Ella, please don’t get upset. Today I just want us to relax and be happy.”
“I’m trying to do both.”
“I sense a but. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I couldn’t see anyone. I looked. Believe me, I looked.”
“Babe, you have to talk to me. Be honest with me.” I nod as the waiter comes back to our table with our starters. “Thank you,” we say at the same time. The waiter nods before leaving us.
Silence fills the air around us and I don’t like it. He’s frustrated with me and I can’t blame him. It’s going to be hard sharing thoughts and feelings. I’ve always made decisions on my own.
I was the one feeling uneasy and I was the one who made the decision not to tell him my thoughts and fears. Which is silly, given the fact I was able to tell him about last night.
What’s the difference?
Is it because today it’s bright, and last night it was dark and I was tired?
“Connor, I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned it, especially given how I’m feeling,” I say, desperate to change the atmosphere that has built up between us. I don’t want to argue or fall out with him.
“I know you are. But you frustrate me. All I want to do is be here for you and with you.”
“So I’m forgiven?”
“Of course. Now, tomorrow’s meeting. Are you ready for it?” he asks, and the subject is changed and normal conversation resumes.
I tell him my fears. The what if I get offered the part? Connor tells me that if I do get the part and need to be in L.A, he’ll be there with me. I can’t help but smile as he reinforces the words he’s told me before.
The rest of our lunch passes without further event, and when we leave, I’m happier and more relaxed than I have been all day.
I stop on the pavement outside the restaurant and face him, taking his hand in mine. He wraps his other arm around my back and softly presses his mouth against mine. Unlike earlier, I have no desire to rush or take more from this kiss. This kiss is everything I want and need right now. Slow and thoughtful, just like the man before me.
“Where to now?” he asks.
“The hotel.”
“No. How about we go shopping?”
SHOPPING. I THOUGHT HE WAS kidding, but here we are in Bond Street; an exclusive shopping area in London. I wanted to keep a low profile but there’s no chance of doing that here. This is where people come to be seen.
“Ella, what’s wrong?” Connor asks, frowning at me.
“I’d have been happy mooching around a market today.”
“Babe, please humour me.”
I nod unconvincingly. I don’t want to be in and out of all these expensive shops, and I certainly won’t be buying anything, especially when money can be better spent elsewhere. He grabs my hand and we stroll along the street. The street is lined with some, if not the best designer shops in the world including Prada, Ralph Lauren, Chanel, and Louis Vuitton.
Relief fills me as we pass some of the exclusive designer stores. It’s funny how my attitude has changed recently; it wasn’t that long ago that these stores were where I would shop. Over the years, Julie and I would have girlie shopping weekends here in London. I never thought twice about the amount of money I would spend on clothes, or anything else, for that matter. Now, though, my attitude is changing.
I’m looking forward to my meeting during the week with the charity that Trevor has put me in touch with. It will be good to learn all about their aims and hear what help and assistance they need. Dad is coming with me because he wants to help too, and I’m more than happy to work alongside my dad to raise awareness and much needed funds for the charity.
Connor stops. “Come on, we’re going in here,” he says, standing outside Tiffany. The doorman smiles as he says, “Good afternoon,” before opening the door. I’ve been in this store a few times with my dad, who has very good taste when it comes to buying jewellery. The question on the tip of my lips is: why are we here?
An elegant lady walks toward us as soon as we enter. There’s not a strand of her hair out of place; she has the whole Audrey Hepburn look going on and pulls it off beautifully. “Afternoon. How can I help you today?” she asks looking at me, then at Connor. After a moment, she smiles, recognising us.
“Hi,” I reply with a smile. That’s all I can say because I don’t know why we’re here.
“Afternoon,” Connor finally says. “I do hope you can help me. I’m looking for something almost as beautiful as the woman beside me.”
“Anything in particular?” she asks, her perfect smile in place.
“Yes. No.” The woman walks toward one of the glass displays with Connor, both deep in conversation. I stay rooted to the spot, watching him. He turns back, expecting me to have moved, but I can’t. “Ella, what’s wrong?” He rushes back to me.
“Why are we here?”
“Because I want to treat you. You deserve to be spoiled and I plan on doing that. I wanted to get you a surprise but then thought it would be nice to do this together. So here we are.”
I’m a bit taken aback. The only men who have ever bought me jewellery are my dad and Callum. In five years together, Donovan never bought me so much as a pair of earrings. “Come on. I have an idea of what I’d like to get but I want to make sure you like it too. No arguments, either. I know what you’re like.” He takes my hand, gently pulling me toward the assistant.
We’re in front of a stunning bracelet display. The woman has already taken a few items out and has them on the glass counter before us. “Madam, do you have a preference? A cuff or a full bracelet?”
“Please, call me Ella, and no preference.”
“Okay, Ella. May I?” she asks, reaching for my hand and proceeding to turn my hand over and study my wrist. “I personally think a cuff, but you are more than welcome to try on both types.” I glance down at my wrist and wonder if she’s making that up.
I glance at the bracelets; none come with a price tag, which usually wouldn’t bother me, but after everything, I’m not happy with Connor wanting to spend lots of money on me. Especially when, these days, I wouldn’t spend it on myself.
This is getting ridiculous. I need to put the past behind me and move on and not feel guilty about spending money.
“Ella . . .”
I turn to Connor. “Sorry. I was a million miles away.”
“It’s fine. If you can’t pick, I will.”
“You pick.”
I watch him pick up several bracelets and look them over before putting them all back down. “Can we try this one?” He picks up a gorgeous white gold and diamond cuff.
“Of course.” The assistant gently puts it on my wrist, smiling proudly when she stands back, allowing Connor and me to admire it. It is exquisite. “The Tiffany Infinity is a powerful symbol of continuous connection, energy, and vitality. The round diamonds add a heightened level of impact to this already striking design. It’s 18k white gold and the Carat weight is .39,” she tells us.
When I look at Connor, his eyes are sparkling with happiness; this is the one he wants to buy. It’s gorgeous and I love it. “We’ll take it,” Connor says softly, looking at me. I nod with a smile.
“Perfect. Let me box it for you.” I wander around the store, looking at all the stunning pieces of jewellery, leaving Connor with the assistant. I can hear them talking but don’t pay attention.
“Are you ready?” Connor asks, slipping one hand into mine and handing me the bag in the other.
“Yes, and thank you. Not just for this, or today, but for just being you and being here for me. For reminding me of the person I was.”
“You don’t have to say thank you to me ever, but . . .” He presses his lips to mine. “You are more than welcome to show your gratitude when we’re back at the hotel,” he whispers. Shivers lace my back at his words. Words I’ll gladly take him up on.
We say goodbye and leave the store. It’s only about a ten-minute walk from here to our hotel in Piccadilly and it’s still a nice afternoon. We’v
e covered more than a few miles today, but it’s been relaxing. Nothing about today has been rushed. I’m glad we didn’t make any firm plans to do anything. A show would’ve been nice but I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together and now I’m looking forward to our evening.
We walk in silence, still hand-in-hand, offering each other a warm smile when we get caught glancing at the other. Each time I look his way, I see something else I like in the man I’m spending more and more of my time with.
We’re almost at the hotel; I can see the flags above the main entrance and the doorman standing outside talking to someone, when cold shivers run down my spine. My racing heart feels as though it could explode at any moment. I freeze and close my eyes. My body shakes.
“Ella. Ella, what’s wrong?” I hear Connor’s voice and I know he’s standing in front of me, gripping onto my shoulders, but as I open my eyes, I don’t see him. I don’t see anything, but I sense there’s someone watching me again. I search around and behind us, but still see nothing, or no-one. “Ella, talk to me. Shit, you’re pale.”
“He’s here, somewhere. I can feel him.” The words leave me in a whispered rush. The hazy cloud that was blurring my vision leaves me and I see the panic on Connor’s face as he watches me.
He looks around us, searching, “Ella, there’s no-one here. He’s not here. Come on. Let’s get into the hotel.”
I try to move my legs but they’re not working. I’m dizzy and my legs are weak. Everything around us is moving by too quickly and I can’t process what’s happening to me. Images of Donovan flash through my mind. He’s standing behind me, laughing at my inability to run. All I see is black spots before me. My body sways and I can’t stop it from sinking. The weight is pulling me down. I try to take in a deep breath, but there’s no oxygen for me to breathe. There’s nothing. Only darkness.
“No, you don’t. I have you.”
He lifts me into his arms as though I’m weightless. I bury my face into his chest, wanting to hide myself from any onlookers who may have noticed my panic attack in the middle of a street in London. Voices I don’t know are around us, asking if everything is okay, asking Connor if he needs help. Pain consumes my entire body as he walks briskly toward the hotel.
Scripted Reality Page 18
