by Rachel Astor
“Come on,” he yelled, holding his hand out to me.
I tried to hurry, but the uneven ground was wreaking havoc on my feet. I could only hope I wasn’t too drunk to feel if I was really injuring myself on the rocky ground.
When I got to Leo, he took my hand to help me the final few steps. “I just remembered I used to come out here when I was a kid… well, a teenager, anyway.”
“Oh, is that why you decided to buy the castle out here?” I asked. “It is really pretty.”
He shrugged. “Maybe subconsciously or something.” He took a few more steps, kind of dragging me along. “Just a little further…”
And then we crested the hill.
And what I saw, there were no words for. The hill looked out over a field of wildflowers. But it wasn’t just the field of flowers that took my breath away, it was the full moon gleaming down on that field. The way it shone, the colors so bright, almost as if they were glowing from within, out of the moonlight. The green of the leaves and stems was like the backdrop on an artist’s canvas, the reds, yellows, and pinks contrasting so vividly, even though the nighttime made it seem like the whole world had an overlay of blue film. It was hard to believe this was the real world, and not some Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole we’d fallen into.
“Whoa…” was all I could say.
“I know. I’m sorry for stopping. I just had to see it. There’s only a certain kind of night when it looks like this. The moon has to be right. They don’t come along very often.”
“No, it’s okay. Thank you for showing me,” I said, unable to unglue my gaze from the scene in front of me.
Eventually, I closed my mouth and sat down. Leo sat next to me. Even Reginald was lurking not too far away, no doubt wanting to enjoy the landscape just as much as us.
I suddenly wished I hadn’t been so tipsy, and hoped that my foggy head wasn’t clouding my vision of this miracle. Although, maybe it was actually helping it along.
I lost track of how long we were sitting there, I was just mesmerized with the whole thing and wishing Jake was there to share it with me. How on Earth did I have one of the most famous men in the world as a boyfriend and I was sitting here with some other guy. I mean, Leo was no slouch or anything, but it just wasn’t the same.
Suddenly, I felt something. Something very, very confusing.
Leo’s hand.
Close to mine.
Like really close to mine. In fact, he was very distinctly touching me. And it really didn’t seem like it was by accident.
And I had no idea what the hell to do. I had a boyfriend, which was definitely not new information to Leo. But then again, I was writing his book. I couldn’t just piss him off by freaking out about it. And really, it’s not like there was even anything to freak out about. He could have been touching me accidentally, it’s just that, if I were touching someone accidentally, I would probably move my hand away after I noticed.
But he didn’t.
After that I really didn’t know how long we sat there. I’d been caught so off guard that I was pretty much too panicked to even breathe, let alone move. I wanted to inch my hand away or something, but then I was worried that he might notice and think I was being silly or something, and the last thing I wanted was for Leo to be uncomfortable. I did still need to get close to him. Though given the situation at that moment, I supposed I just needed to stay close to him.
He already obviously thought we were pretty close.
I, on the other hand, had shoulders that had seemingly turned to stone since Leo’s little hand touching incident.
Finally, mercifully, Leo slowly started to get up to leave. It felt like we’d been sitting like that for a year.
Not much was said the rest of the way home, though my thoughts were swirling way faster than I could catch them.
~ 11 ~
I woke up still feeling a little out of sorts. I suppose I could have blamed it on the mini-hangover I had going on, but I honestly couldn’t get that hand touching thing out of my head. I definitely wasn’t sure if I was ready to face Leo yet.
I decided to take the bike out for another ride in the country, this time all the way into town.
I hadn’t actually seen this supposed town yet, but some of the workers assured me there was one just a couple miles down the road. They had no reason to steer me wrong, so off Baby Blue (yes, I know, my bike naming skills could use some work) and I went down the lane. Okay, I know it was just a road, but it just seemed so quaint to think of it as a lane instead.
I was a little shocked at how quickly I made it into town, although it did seem to be slightly downhill most of the way and I had a sinking feeling that the ride home might not be quite as pleasant.
I found a fabulously chic little bookstore that also had a sidewalk café attached. I could not think of a more perfect thing to do than sit down at one of the cute little tables covered in red and white checkerboard cloth and settle in with a good book and maybe a cappuccino sprinkled with cinnamon.
The moment I walked in, I was completely charmed, starting with the dingle of the little bells at the top of the door, signaling my arrival. The girl behind the counter gave me maybe the most genuine smile I’d seen since arriving in England. Not that the people weren’t pleasant or anything, it was just that now, being in a small town, the folks were even friendlier than in the city. Or maybe it was just because I’d walked past Miranda on my way out this morning and she’d had such a scowl for me that any kindness at that moment could have made my heart flutter. But even better than the twinkly sounding bells and the friendly smile, was the oven-fresh bakery scent that wafted through the store. It was so invading that I couldn’t stop myself from closing my eyes and breathing right down to the bottom of my lungs.
When I opened my eyes, the girl was still looking at me, and thankfully, still smiling.
“Oh sorry, it just smells so good in here,” I said, trying not to turn red.
“Don’t worry, we get that a lot.”
I relaxed immediately. There was just something about this place. Even though I had definitely never been there before, something about it just felt comfortable. Like a home away from home.
I could see myself spending a lot of time at the quaint little store, now that I’d found it.
“What can we do for you today?” The girl asked.
But then her smile faltered, just a little, as if she’d been trained to never let it fall, but something had shocked her so much, that she couldn’t stop the momentary reaction. Her smile came back in megawatt style, but confusion still held in her eyes. “You look… so familiar,” she finally said.
Crap. Here we go again.
“Oh,” I tried to smile as graciously as possible, all the while chanting, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me in my head. “I get that a lot.”
“You’re American?”
I nodded, turning my attention to the bakery counter, hoping to distract her away from my face. “What would you recommend?”
“Uh… the Cinnamon Twists are our specialty,” the girl said.
I could still feel her eyes practically boring a hole through me.
“Great,” I said, bending way down to get a good look at the Twists. The girl was not wrong, they did look decadently delicious. “I’ll take one with the cream cheese icing drizzle. And a cappuccino, please.”
I tried to avoid eye contact, but it was impossible as radiantly smiling as she was.
She turned to make the coffee. When she finished and turned back around, she suddenly gasped and nearly dropped my coffee. “It’s you!” she said, pointing to the magazine stand.
Double crap.
I really, really did not want to turn around to look at what she was pointing to. All I’d wanted was a nice break from all the drama for a while, but the Universe apparently had other plans.
I took a deep breath and slowly turned, internally cringing, preparing for anything.
BRIDESMAID SHUNNED? JAKE HALL S
POTTED ON RARE DAY OFF WITHOUT CURRENT SQUEEZE.
I was looking particularly stunned in the photo. It had been taken on the day of Emma Van Horn’s wedding, and it looked like someone had just jumped out from behind one of the church columns and yelled boo! That, of course, had not actually happened, and I will never know what the heck had startled me so badly, but it sure was nice how the tabloids seemed to always have one of those ‘caught off guard’ photos in their arsenal.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I mean, I wasn’t too happy about the press running around telling the world lies about Jake and I breaking up or whatever, but with the way things had been going lately, a little article like that was almost a joke.
I actually let out a ridiculous giggle, like all the nerves I’d built up before were all escaping in one big whoosh of silliness.
“I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have pointed it out,” the girl said. “It must be really hard, being in the spotlight like that. Is there anything else I can do for you?” the girl asked. “You must be one of those people who laugh when they want to cry. I am so, so sorry for your loss.”
Now it was my turn to be confused. “My loss?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, grabbing my Cinnamon Twist out from the display. “It must be hard to be dating a movie star and then it being over so soon.”
“Oh,” I said, laughing a little.
I knew I shouldn’t say anything, I should just pretend that I wasn’t even the Bridesmaid in question, but it just kind of irked me the way she assumed the story had to be true. I mean, it was in a rag mag for Pete’s sake. Did people actually believe that stuff?
“Actually, Jake and I are fine. I’m just over here on a work assignment.”
“Oh,” she said. “Of course.” Her smile returned.
I was waiting for her to start asking all the usual questions: What was it like to date a movie star? How humiliating was it really, to have all your most embarrassing moments splashed all over the papers? Were the other Bridesmaids total bitches?
But nothing. She asked absolutely nothing. Just kind of looked at me with a hint of pity, like she was humoring me or something.
Oh my God, she didn’t believe me. She had the Bridesmaid who was dating Jake Hall—McMaster the Disaster herself—sitting right there in front of her and she would rather believe what the flippin’ tabloid said.
Unbelievable.
Although, I supposed that before I was actually in the tabloids, I did read and dissect the exact stories I now knew to be total garbage for an amount of time I was certainly not proud of.
I took my coffee and Cinnamon Twist, and, you know, just so the girl could see I was taking it all in stride, I bought a copy of all five tabloids the store carried. I went back outside to the sidewalk tables to relax.
Unfortunately, things got a little… less relaxing once I’d spread the magazines out over the table. I was actually staring up at myself from not one, but two of the magazines. Good Lord, I was the cover girl on forty percent of the tabloids that the entire store carried! I closed my eyes and shook my head, clearing it of that disturbing thought.
Thank goodness the girl in the store hadn’t noticed this one was me. It was kind of odd that she hadn’t really, except for the fact that I was wearing the disguise. A wavy dark haired, Eva Mendes-esque kind of disguise. How did they even print the paper this fast? Leo and I couldn’t have even made it back to the castle in time for the ink to be dry on the thing, and here I was, splashed all over the front cover.
Shit! Shit, shit , shit! I wasn’t supposed to get photographed with the Prince. It was in my contract for bloody sake. What the hell was I thinking going out in public with him? I mean, I’d take the precaution of the disguise and everything, but after all I’d been through, how could I have not thought about the paparazzi? Granted, I hadn’t seen a single photographer all night, and might have gotten a little sloppy with my reconnaissance, not to mention the liquor, but I seriously did not think I would be photographed.
If Miranda saw this I’d be out for sure. I’d signed a contract for God’s sake. But… would she recognize me? I mean, I really didn’t look like myself.
I squinted and looked closer.
“Another one of his chippies,” the girl from inside of the shop said, sneaking up behind me and reading over my shoulder.
I looked her straight in the face. Could she not see the resemblance here? I mean, I know I looked way different, but she was standing there staring right at me, and staring right at the magazine.
I nonchalantly held the magazine up, right below my chin. “You don’t recognize her? I heard the Prince lived around here somewhere?”
“Oh yeah, he does,” she said, all excited. “Just up the road a mile or two. It’s so exciting,” she said, hitting my arm playfully with the towel she was holding. “Every once in a while, he comes in here for some baking or whatever… you can always tell when he’s got a new girl to show off for. My friend Mary who does some temp cleaning over there at the castle sometimes… she gets to talking to the staff… well she says on the days when he gets in here really early and buys up half the bakery, it’s always to impress a girl. In fact,” she leaned down close to me, “he came in just this morning. I’d bet my life that he’s got that girl holed up in that great big castle of his right now.” She leaned back, pleased that she could provide a little local color for the out of towner. “So, can I get you anything else?” she asked, changing the subject so quickly, I’d barely had time to process.
“Uh… no.” I looked up at her, stunned. “No thank you.”
“Just let me know if you do,” she said, and walked back into the store.
My mind was reeling with what she’d said. Leo had been there that morning? And he only goes for the fresh baking when he has a girl to impress? This girl? On the cover of the tabloid? But… that would mean…
Nooo!
Oh God, this was so much worse than the little brushing of the hand last night. This meant… okay, cripes! I had no idea what it meant.
I quickly read the article. It talked all about how Leo had been so attentive with his ‘new squeeze’ at the club, which was just plain weird because if that was attentive, I’d hate to see what non-attentive might be. I’d practically felt like I was just an accessory the whole night, until we got to the wildflowers, and then, after the initial awe wore off, there was nothing but weirdness there too.
Though apparently, only for me.
Did the Prince actually think something was going on last night? I mean, we’d had a bit of a flirtation going on, but he had to know that was all in fun, right? Honestly, I hadn’t even been that comfortable with the innocent flirting, and then last night… well, that felt less innocent.
More importantly, if Leo did think something had been going on, did he really think that was a date that went well? At least well enough to think a nice, intimate little breakfast the next morning was in order?
Thank God I had slipped away when I did. Although… God, what about the book? I was going to have to keep him as close as possible, feeling as comfortable as possible, if I was going to get his story. But… how was I supposed to do that now if he was going to be all… falling in love with me and stuff?
Okay, now I was really losing it. Having my picture on the cover of two tabloids must have really gotten to me. My head seriously must have been about the size of a beach ball.
I pulled my diary out of the oversized purse I’d thrown in the basket of the bicycle—I’d taken to keeping my new one on me as much as possible after the incident with my roommate back home—and got to writing.
Dear Disaster Diary,
I loved playing softball. There was nothing more satisfying than feeling the crack of the bat making solid contact with the ball and watching it sail over the fielder’s heads. But the one thing I hated was that I was always stuck in the outfield when it was the other team’s turn to bat.
But I was part of a team and I just kept telling myself that I had to pro
ve I was just as good as the girls playing infield if I was going to have a chance to be a star shortstop or first baseman.
It was so hot that day; the breeze was just not cooperating, and the sun was beating down hard on my face. I pulled my cap down further, hoping my nose wouldn’t get too sunburned. You’d think with how hot it was, the bugs would stay away, but every mosquito in the vicinity seemed to be buzzing around my ankles since it was the only grass around for miles. And that’s when I finally got my chance. A ball was hit hard, straight up the middle over the head of the second baseman. It was coming straight for me. Well, not straight for me exactly, but behind me, over my head.
I started running.
I ran as hard as I could, forgetting all about the heat, forgetting all about the bugs, focusing on nothing but catching that ball.
My future in softball was at stake.
It was coming closer… closer… until it was there, inches from my outstretched hand as I leapt into the air and felt the satisfying thwack of the ball landing safely in the pocket of my glove.
But, as with all things, what goes up, must come down.
And come down I did.
Hard.
Right onto the outfield fence, somehow flipping right over the waist high chain-link fence. Which could have even been spectacular, me sacrificing myself for the good of the team, except for the fact that when I went over, the waist of my polyester ball pants caught on the tip of the fencing and, as I came down, they peeled off me like I was a banana.
There I was, head hanging toward the ground with my sensible white cotton clad butt hanging in the air, and even more sadly… watching the ball roll feebly out of my glove.
After writing the entry, I was sure the whole loading up on baked goods thing had to simply be a coincidence. There was no way Leo would ever give me the time of day if not for the fact that I was his ghostwriter. Besides, he totally knew I was with Jake, so why would he even bother trying?
