A Star in Cornwall (A Wedding in Cornwall Book 8)

by Laura Briggs

  "It does," I said, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "It was so thoughtful of you. Really. I can't say how much, even though I desperately want to." My arms encircled his shoulders, embracing him.

  "Just have a good time," he said, softly, against my ear. "And when you return, tell me all about it."

  I drew back. "You're not coming?" I said. "But — there's two tickets."

  "I know," he said. "One for you, and one for your assistant."

  I felt myself melt, my legs weakening a little ... and this without a glance at those dark coffee eyes, either. "Oh, Matt," I said, softly.

  "Promise me," he said. "And I promise I won't be imagining you having a candlelight dinner with a dashing actor in his hotel suite afterwards." He winked at me, his hand lightly stroking my back as I pulled him closer.

  He was giving Katie her chance to say goodbye. And for that, I couldn't possibly thank him enough for being so thoughtful and understanding. Now if I could only convince Katie to come with me and see our runaway friend onstage one last time.

  ***

  "It's crowded, isn't it?" I said, as we made our way to our theater seats. "This show has been sold out for weeks, probably. With a gorgeous theater like this, who wouldn't want to attend?"

  Katie was quiet. She made a pretense of admiring the auditorium as we settled into our seats. I thought silence was better than her pretense of cheerful conversation at this point, which had a vacant, distant quality in every reply.

  Inwardly, I sighed. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't have talked Katie into this, and let the extra ticket go to someone eager to thank our secret thespian — like Rosie, or Millie. Maybe I should have treated Gemma with an evening on the town ... or let it be Matt who shared my neighboring seat, followed by dinner at a London restaurant.

  Too late now. And I knew that Katie, whatever she might want me to think, had cared about Ridley. A part of her would want to see him in this play and would regret missing the chance someday, when it was too late.

  Besides, Katie had evidently put some thought into her outfit for tonight. A posh yellow frock printed with small flowers, a glittery hair comb of rhinestone flowers tucked to one side of her hairstyle. It seemed like the decision of someone who maybe cared a little about this evening. So I put my smile into place again, and made an occasional light remark about London theater or attractions, until the lights dimmed and the curtains rose.

  This performance wasn't a soft Americanized version of Shakespeare — this was a beautiful, modern British version of Macbeth's story, with the original dialogue and a gritty, guerilla war setting in an unnamed third world territory. The fiery, quick speeches held your attention with each scene, especially with Ridley's youthful, burning impression of Macbeth, seduced by prophecies and zealous dreams of glory as the movement's rising leader. The energy of the production made it seem shocking, even brutal at times; worlds away from Ridley's performance as the laughing, arrogant toff Mercutio.

  I felt Katie grip my arm at one point in the production, an unconscious reaction to Ridley's injury onstage. I smiled a little — even seeing Ridley as a villain didn't prevent it from touching her softer side.

  Curtains closed, the actors bowed for the audience. Now most people would be going home, to their hotels, or for a bite or a drink ... but we had other plans.

  "Where are we going?" Katie asked. I had taken her arm before she could walk towards the exit and steered her through the crowds, even through a receiving line of admirers with the exclusive privilege of meeting the actors. As soon as Katie realized where we were going, I felt her heels dig into the carpet.

  "No, thanks," she said. "I think maybe it's time we grabbed some dinner and hit the hay. We have an early train tomorrow —"

  "Just a minute," I said. Katie had stopped arguing, but that's because we were at the head of the line, where I showed a special pass to a security agent, who let us through the velvet ropes and to the actor behind Macbeth. At the sight of us, Ridley smiled; Katie glanced away, and tried to look extremely interested in the rest of the cast.

  "It's great to see you," said Ridley, gripping my hand. "When you told me you were coming, I hoped you'd use the passes." He took a deep breath. "So, what did you think?"

  "Where do I begin?" I said. "I think your critics won't be saying you can't play serious roles, for starters. And that you definitely look a mess." I motioned towards the smeared camouflage paint on his face, and the fake blood on his forehead and uniform.

  "Yeah, I'll get cleaned up soon," he said. "This is a little messier than old-fashioned sweat and sawdust. Makes me kind of miss it, sometimes."

  "We miss you," I said. "Romeo and Juliet just wasn't the same after you were gone."

  Ridley's smile faltered. "I wish I could've stayed," he said. "But it was just a matter of time —"

  "You found where you belonged," I said. "That's the most important part. Nobody would've asked you to give this up for Mercutio, don't worry."

  "Mercutio deserved it, though," said Ridley. "That was the first time someone gave me an honest shot at a dramatic role, just based on what I could do. I have all of you to thank for it."

  He glanced over my shoulder, looking hopefully at Katie, who had still said nothing. "Hey," he said. "Cat got your tongue? I thought you'd have a few criticisms for me, at least."

  "I don't know what to say," said Katie, studying the carpet. "Congratulations? Looks like you made it? After all, I think you kind of made it before this."

  "Thanks for reminding me," he said, sarcastically. "Come on. Tell me you at least hated how cheesy it was when I envisioned myself on that balcony above the adoring masses during the prophecy. And that you liked the fact that I'm obviously stargazing during the big monologue."

  "Is that important to you?" Katie lifted her eyes with this question, just for a moment, one eyebrow quirked upwards.

  "It might be," he said. Softly. And with a smile that made me think that Ridley really did miss those weeks as a theater handyman.

  I inched further away, retreating a little as Katie lifted her gaze to Ridley's once again. By the time she replied to his words, I was out of earshot, discreetly withdrawing behind the velvet ropes again. They deserved their goodbye to be in private...and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance this wasn't a farewell, but a new hello. The kind in this age of modern technology that includes tweets and emails, messages flying between counties, countries, or even continents, to forge connections as real as any spoken words do.

  Friends. That word could be the beginning of anything, as I well knew. So I waited in the theater's lobby, beneath chandeliers brighter than starlight, for Katie to find me afterwards.

  Julianne and her friends return in A Sewing Circle in Cornwall, available for pre-order HERE

  Books 2 and 3 in the Love & Lit Library Series Now Available!