“Go work. I’ll see you soon.”
“Lizzie, if you leave the flat, I want you to take security.”
“Thomas—”
“Please don’t argue. I’ll have Heidi call you and arrange it, okay?”
Not in the mood to fight, I decided to let it go. “Fine.”
“Thank you, love. I’m glad you’re home.”
“Have a good day. Love you.”
After we hung up, I wandered to the kitchen, thinking some food might help me wake up. Thomas’s fridge was empty, however; a common occurrence when he was working too much and eating on the set. I had told him there were grocery delivery services, but he insisted that would make him feel too weird. “Groceries are where I draw the line, Lizzie. Paying someone to buy my bloody Weetabix would make me feel like I’m completely useless. I’m not that much of a wanker yet.”
“Who’s the wanker now?” I muttered, shutting the fridge. “I’m starving.”
Figuring I wouldn’t be able to resist the bed for long if I stayed here, I decided I may as well shower and get out of the flat. Maybe a little London air would invigorate me. Besides, there was food out there.
An hour later, I was showered, dressed, and waiting in the sitting room for the bodyguards to show up. My stomach was growling by now, making me grumpier by the moment. The fact that a quick look out the window revealed the reporters still there further annoyed me. I had spent more time than normal on my hair and makeup, just in case, but I still really didn’t want to face them again.
The buzzer went off, and I grabbed my purse before running to the intercom. “Yes?”
“Your ride is here, Miss Medina.”
“Thanks, Ted.”
I quickly slipped into my black ballet flats and headed out the door, carefully locking it behind me. The security guys Heidi had sent were the same ones we’d had the last time in London. They re-introduced themselves as Roy and Joe before opening the door for me. Roy walked a foot ahead, keeping the reporters to the side, while Joe brought up the rear. I saw more flashes go off, heard more questions shouted, but this time, I merely smiled behind my sunglasses and walked straight for the car, not needing to stay on their good side now that I had some backup.
“Where to, Miss Medina?” Roy asked once we were settled in the non-descript black sedan.
“Uh… How about Harrods.” I could have some breakfast in one of the restaurants and shop a little. If Harrods couldn’t wake me up, I wasn’t sure anywhere could.
“Harrods it is.”
The iconic department store was bustling, as usual. I enjoyed a leisurely brunch while reading the paperback I’d neglected on the plane. Roy and Joe kept a comfortable distance. I felt a little more than silly having them there. After we’d left the flat, I hadn’t seen a single photographer. Not one of my fellow diners gave me a second glance. The fact that they could have stayed home and saved themselves the trouble made me feel embarrassed. On the other hand, I took great comfort in the living proof that I really was a nobody after all.
Finished with my food, I paid my bill and headed to the escalator. Harrods was a fantastic place to window shop—the size and the variety of goods was enough to keep me busy for hours. I decided to start upstairs and make my way down. Unsurprisingly, my favorite sections were the food-based ones on the ground floor. I would save the room after room of teas, chocolates, pastries, and other assorted goodies for last.
I made my way through shoes, purses, clothes, and was just entering the designer sunglass section when I heard someone call my name.
“Lizzie? Lizzie Medina?”
I spun around, surprised. Who did I know in London that wouldn’t be at work right now? A man was standing across the room, half-hidden by the display of Prada sunglasses. I recognized him immediately—he was, after all, the most famous movie star in the world.
“Jackson! What are you doing here?”
He crossed the room quickly and immediately pulled me into a hug. I allowed myself a smile against his shoulder. Just like Jackson Coles—always dramatic, always the center of attention. In fact, several shoppers had stopped what they were doing to stare at us.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, pulling back but not releasing my arms. Instead, he held onto me as he looked me over, inspecting me just like my aunts always did. “You look amazing. Being engaged must agree with you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m a little annoyed I had to find out from the media, Lizzie. What gives?”
“We were trying to keep it quiet for as long as possible.”
He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, looking exactly like his character in the Darkness movies. “And you didn’t think I was to be trusted?”
I laughed. “Sorry, Jackson.”
A man behind us cleared his throat, causing Jackson to quickly release me and look over his shoulder. The throat clearer was tall, bald, and dressed in jeans and a dark suit coat. He nodded once in Jackson’s direction. “Mr. Coles, we’re attracting attention. We should probably move.”
It took me a moment to realize that the man was probably Jackson’s security, that my own security was hovering only a few feet away. This was an aspect of celebrity that I still hadn’t gotten used to, the constant need for a bodyguard or extensive entourage. We hadn’t needed regular security until Thomas took the role in Journey and the engagement rumors started. Even living in L.A., when Thomas and I would go out, we generally just tried to keep a low profile unless it was a public appearance. I guessed, for someone like Jackson Coles, everyday was a public appearance.
Behind Jackson’s security guy, Roy also cleared his throat and I frowned. Was that the direction Thomas and I were heading in? Where you couldn’t even go shopping without planning ahead with your entourage?
“Do you have a minute?” Jackson asked, turning back to me. “I’d love to catch up.”
“Uh,” I said uncertainly, looking down at my watch. The truth was, I had nowhere to be any time soon. But I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to commit myself to one-on-one time with Jackson. In my experience, he was easiest to take in small doses.
“Come on, Lizzie.” He tugged on my arm, giving me that million-dollar movie star smile. I could practically hear the women in the general area swoon. Speaking of which, I was noticing a lot of eyes on us at that moment, a prospect I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.
“What do you have in mind?”
His smile somehow grew even larger as he took my arm. “Come on.”
***
Five minutes later, I found myself in a teashop a half block from Harrods. Jackson was continuing to attract attention, but I knew that was par for the course for him and tried my best to ignore it.
“Lola tells me she saw you two in California last month.” Jackson was leaning over the table, those golden eyes intent on mine.
I couldn’t help but grimace at her name. “Yup. It was yet another lovely meeting to add to my memories of her.”
Jackson laughed. “She’s really not that bad, once you get to know her.”
I stared at him, sure he must be joking. When he didn’t shout, “Syke!” I shook my head. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“She’s terribly insecure, Lizzie. And you make her remember all the reasons why.”
I barked out a laugh. “Are you joking? She’s a freaking movie star, Jackson. She was listed in People’s Fifty Most Beautiful. Are you seriously asking me to believe that I make her insecure?”
He shrugged. “Being a movie star doesn’t mean you can’t be insecure. In fact, sometimes I think it’s a pre-requisite. Normal people generally don’t stand up and demand every ounce of the room’s attention.” He winked at me. “I think some insecurity is inherent in the job description.”
“Thomas isn’t insecure,” I said, trying not to think of how down he’d gotten in L.A. when he realized he was the only guy on the set without a six-pack. But he was self-aware enough to know that was stupid, I reminded myself.
“And that, right there, is why you make her insecure,” Jackson said, pointing at me with a satisfied smile. “Because Thomas isn’t like the rest of us. He’s always been too good for our parties, too good to hang out with our crowd.” He caught sight of my face and hurried on. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. He’s not a snob. He just…he was clearly never interested in flaunting himself the way the rest of us were.”
“And that makes her insecure?”
Jackson shrugged. “I think it makes her wonder what he has that she doesn’t, to give him that kind of confidence. And then you came along.”
I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.
“And it’s so obvious, Lizzie, that you don’t give a shit about what any of us think.”
I squirmed in my seat, uncomfortable. “That’s not true.”
He laughed again. “Of course it is. You think Thomas never told anyone how you made it through the entire first act of my play without even knowing who he was the night you met? He thought it was adorable.”
Under the table, I crossed my fingers that Thomas hadn’t also told them I’d spent an hour making fun of Jackson’s performance in that play, not realizing until the lights of the theater came up that Jackson was his co-star.
But Jackson was still going on, apparently oblivious to the blush spreading up my neck. “And every time you happen to be in the room with any of us, it’s obvious you’re not impressed in the least bit.” He winked at me. “Sometimes you even look bored. It drives Lola crazy. She’s used to everyone falling at her feet as soon as she opens her mouth. You never even asked her for an autograph.”
I stared at him, disbelieving. “And if I had, she would have been nice to me?”
“Probably not. More than likely, she would have judged you for being a hanger-on.”
I threw up my hands. “So I can’t win with her.”
Our tea arrived and he gave the waitress a smooth-as-silk smile as he took his cup. “Of course not. Lola is totally a bitch. All I’m saying is that it’s easier to deal with her when you understand why.”
I laughed, not knowing if I should find this amusing or depressing. But Jackson was smiling at me across the table, and it was hard to be annoyed by him when he had that little boy look in his eyes—like he was so proud of himself for making me laugh.
“So you just have everyone figured out, huh?”
He nodded seriously. “I’m a scholar of the human condition. It’s integral to my art.” I remembered Annie and Thomas talking about actors who used the word “art” to describe their work and had to hide my snort behind my tea.
“Enough about Lola and the psyche of actors. Tell me about the wedding.”
“We’re getting married in Detroit.” I took a sip of my tea, grateful to be back in London. I had grown used to their milky tea and missed it now whenever I was home. “At my family’s church.”
“Wait, you’re getting married in Detroit? I thought I heard you were getting married here?”
I shook my head. “We discussed it, but decided to get married where my family was.”
Jackson frowned. “I swear I heard it was here. Wasn’t there a picture of Thomas at a flower shop last week?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t keep up with your tabloids.”
He snickered. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
I didn’t respond, taking another sip of my tea.
“Okay, so the wedding’s back in the States. What about after that? Have you decided where to live?”
“We’re actually house hunting tomorrow.” I felt a stirring of excitement. I’d been so tired all day that I hadn’t thought much about the weekend plans.
“In London?”
I nodded and he gave me an exasperated expression. “You should have told me. I just bought a new place, I’m a complete real estate expert right now.”
I didn’t mention that I doubted our taste would be very similar to his. I’d been to Jackson’s old house only once, for a celebrity-filled party that I’d found tedious. His place took up three floors of an abandoned warehouse. Polished concrete, chrome, and white leather filled every room. I remembered searching in vain for a chair that wasn’t some architectural statement piece, not really in the mood to try to balance on an egg-shaped pod chair with only two legs.
He surprised me, however, by rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Harper will probably want something more classic, I’d assume.”
“Probably. He usually gets grumpy when things are too modern.”
Jackson laughed. “Sounds like Tommy. Well, I would avoid Chelsea entirely. It seemed like everything I saw there with a decent square footage was remodeled and totally streamlined. Maybe not his thing.”
I made a mental note to remember not to look in Chelsea—and to remember, that for all his silliness, Jackson Coles could be a really nice guy. A nice guy who was much more interesting and thoughtful than I often gave him credit for. He’d been the one that recommended hiking to me in Malibu, and it had become my favorite hobby there, filling countless hours while Thomas shot his movie.
“Bugger, it’s getting late.” Jackson pulled a twenty-pound note from his wallet and laid it on the table. “This was nice, catching up.”
“It was.” My voice was sincere. “Thanks for the tea.”
He reached out and took my hand, bending with a flourish to kiss my knuckles. So very Jackson. “You can call me if you have any questions about the house hunt, okay? I’d be happy to give you my agent’s name.”
“I think Thomas has someone, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
He met my eyes, giving me the same smile that he’d graced the waitress with. “Good luck with the wedding, Lizzie. I’m glad you’ll be around town—you keep things interesting.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible flirt, Jackson?”
He laughed, finally releasing my hand. “And that’s exactly what I meant. Laters, Lizzie.”
I shook my head, once again unsure if I should laugh at him or roll my eyes. I settled for a bemused kind of smile. “Laters, Jackson.”
Chapter Eighteen
I woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee. When I finally succeeded in opening my eyes, I saw that Thomas’s side of the bed was empty.
“You awake?” I heard him ask. I rolled over and saw him coming through the doorway, holding a tray.
“Coffee?” I asked hopefully, sitting up in bed.
“Coffee. And toast and eggs.”
“You’re my hero.”
He grinned and set the tray over my knees, kissing my forehead. “You’ll need your energy for today.”
“Will I?” I struggled to remember what he was talking about. Something about the wedding? The jet lag was making my head fuzzy. “Why, what’s going on today?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot—we’re looking at houses today.”
My confusion was immediately replaced with a rush of excitement. “Houses! I almost forgot!”
“Yes, houses. My agent—Alisha—put together a list of properties for us to see. She just sent me the email to confirm—there’re loads.”
“When can she meet us?” I asked, moving the covers from my legs.
Thomas laughed at my eagerness. “Eat your breakfast; we have plenty of time.”
I munched my food happily as Thomas told me about the houses we would see. “I told her we were happy to check out lots of neighborhoods,” he explained. “She said she had a few places here in Bayswater and a couple over in Nottinghill. And then there’s a place she wants us to see in Lambeth, right on the river.”
“And you told her nothing too outrageously fancy, right?”
Thomas laughed, nodding. “I did.” He was quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t really sure what to tell her about a budget, now that you mention it. Houses are so expensive, especially in the city. But I didn’t want to… you know, I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Or worried or anything like that
.”
He looked wary, almost afraid of my reaction. I realized that every time the subject of money came up, it was an issue. I did that, I thought, feeling guilty. I made him uncomfortable even talking about budget with me, because I always had to make such a big deal out of these things. I thought about my conversation with my dad, how he’d been happy that Thomas could take care of me. How he’d told me not to let money become a resentment. That too much pride could be sinful.
“I say go all out,” I said.
“What?”
“Go all out. Spend whatever we like.”
He was gaping at me across the bed. “Are you serious?”
I shrugged. “This is your first big purchase since your career took off, right? You’ve been incredibly conservative with your money so far.” It was true, really. Most guys in his situation probably would have at least splashed out on a sickeningly expensive car, or something. Thomas was still living in a six-hundred-square-foot, one-bedroom flat.
He was shaking his head at me, still confused by my reaction. “I don’t…are you saying you don’t care how much it costs?”
“I’m saying this is our first purchase together as a family. It’s where we’re going to live, where we’ll start our life together. Maybe even where we’ll have our children, someday. I’m not saying you should try to spend as much as you can, but I also don’t think price should be the biggest deciding factor.” I peeked at him, trying to read his reaction. “That is, if you agree. It is your money—”
“It’s our money,” he said firmly, brushing my sleep-mussed hair behind out of my eyes. “And I think you’re completely right—this is the biggest purchase of our lives, so far at least. I want it to be right.”
I grinned. “Good. Then I promise not to say a single word about money the entire day.”
“Okay—what in hell has gotten into you?”
I laughed, grabbing the last piece of toast from my tray. “Nothing. I’m just trying to not be so uptight about money. To be thankful for what we have.” I went to pop the toast in my mouth, but before I could get that far, Thomas had both hands on the sides of my face, kissing me until I was breathless.
Lovestruck Forever Page 19
