Making Love (Destiny Book 1)

by Catherine Winchester

  I nodded slowly, seeing some sense in what she was saying.

  “And if you ever feel as if you’re losing yourself, just come around here and I’ll smack some sense into you.”

  I smiled, then I sighed. “I feel like I’ve just had a meltdown over nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing, your Dad was using you and magazines are asking people to dish dirt on you. You do have a right to feel beleaguered, but I also know how strong you are. Don’t let these people spoil something incredible.”

  “You think what we have is incredible?” I asked.

  Marie smiled. “I think the two of you are perfect for each other,” she assured me. “And he is totally smitten, by the way.”

  She hadn’t met him often but we had been out a few times with Will and Jim.

  We chatted a little longer, me asking about her life and how things were with Jim.

  “Where is he, by the way?”

  “I sent him down the pub when you texted,” she smiled.

  “You kicked him out of the house for me?!”

  Marie shrugged.

  “How did you know I was this upset?”

  “Because the only times you text, asking if you can come round, are when you need a shoulder. The rest of the time you make plans for a later date, like a civilised human being,” she teased me.

  “Thanks, Marie.” It’s good to have friends who know you that well. “And apologise to Jim for me.”

  “I’m sure he’s in heaven, there’s rugby on tonight.”

  “And thanks for talking me down from the brink.”

  “Well, you put up with weeks of my crying and wailing when you first moved into the apartments, I figured you were owed a little tea and sympathy.” Six weeks after I’d moved into my flat, Marie, who had been in the same building, had found out she’d been cheated on. Her trauma, or specifically, her camping out on my sofa almost every evening for the best part of two months, had soon cemented our fledgling friendship.

  I left soon after that and called Will from the cab as I went home.

  “Hello, darling. How was your evening?”

  “Eugh! Some other time. Right now, I want to know what you’re doing tomorrow.”

  “Uh, nothing, as far as I know. Why?”

  “Because I’ve decided to live in sin with this delicious man I’ve met, and I wondered if you’d help me move.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “You might know him. He’s really tall, has this messy, slightly curly hair that looks sexy as hell first thing in the morning, and he makes the best cooked breakfast in the whole of London.”

  “He sounds like a keeper,” Will played along.

  “Yeah, I agree. So, can you give me a hand?”

  “I think I can spare a couple of hours. Not too long though, my girlfriend is moving in tomorrow, and we’re going to need to christen every surface in the place.”

  I laughed. “Haven’t you already?”

  “Well yeah, every surface in my home, but none in our home.”

  Sometimes he said the best things.

  The cab pulled up outside my apartment and I paid, then carried on talking to Will as I made my way inside. We chatted on speaker while I changed, then I climbed into bed. He stayed on the phone with me until I grew drowsy enough to sleep, my father’s antics just a distant memory, at least for now.

  ***

  “What are you going to do with the place?” Will asked me as he helped me pack. There was a lot of stuff I didn’t need to take, duplicates of kitchen equipment for example, but there were some things I had that Will didn’t.

  “I thought I’d rent it. I should get enough to cover the mortgage and it’ll be an investment, our retirement fund or something. I’ll call some agents next week, see what I have to do.”

  It sounded pretty silly, considering that Will earned more for one movie than this whole apartment was worth. Still, there was no point in throwing away an asset, I might be grateful of it one day.

  “Good plan. What about your stuff?”

  “Once I’m sure I have everything I need, I thought I might call a few homeless charities, see if they can make use of anything. It’s all in good condition and nothing’s older than four years.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  Once we got to Will’s, I found that he had cleaned out half his wardrobe and drawers for me, and had put a table opposite his desk in his sunroom, until I could move my desk over.

  I unpacked my clothes and when I went into the office, I found Will had paused in unpacking my traditional art supplies and was looking through one of my sketch pads. I didn’t do much drawing on paper any more but I always had a few pads around.

  “You’re not supposed to look in there,” I said, cringing at his reaction.

  “These are amazing!” he grinned at me.

  “Really?”

  “Why would you think I wouldn’t like them?”

  “Because not everyone likes caricatures. My Mum used to call them cruel.”

  “They’re not cruel,” he said, still flipping through. “I love things like this.”

  “I’m not sure your friends would agree.” I’d drawn most of his friends and colleagues over the course of our relationship; I’m always looking for new inspiration.

  “I’m sure they’d love them. Can I send this to Lee?”

  He showed me the page. “As long as you don’t think he’ll be mad.”

  “He’ll love it, and is this John?”

  I nodded, he was looking through my most recent pad, which included people from his premiere in LA.

  “He’d adore that too. Nathan, Maria, Mandy.”

  “They’re just cartoons.”

  “Why do you draw them only to hide them?”

  “I don’t hide them, I just don’t show them off. And I draw them because I can refer back to them for inspiration… and because my mum hated them.”

  “One in the eye,” he grinned.

  “Exactly.”

  Obviously he asked about my father and eventually I told him what had happened and although it wasn’t his fault, he apologised. Then he cuddled me for ages, before christening the kitchen counter with me until I couldn’t think straight. After that he cooked me a wonderful dinner and sat through The Notebook with me.

  He really was, as my friend Laurie said, a keeper.

  ***

  Other than a few small, local projects, like radio programs, voiceovers, an audio book and I seem to recall something about narrating a documentary series, Will didn’t have any film work scheduled before Christmas.

  Next year was going to be a busy one with three Shadow Watch movies lined up. Firebolt 3 was shooting at the beginning of the year, and the next two Sentinels movies were filming back to back after a two month break. He had decided to extend his contract and give his character a proper send off, although the bastard wouldn’t tell me what he’d discussed during his talks with the director, and he knew how much I loved Dante!

  The films would be released, one a year, over the next three years, but since all the actors were making names for themselves now, the upcoming year was the only time they could get them all together. I pretty much knew Will’s character was going to die, and I had a feeling a few other regulars would be having their final send off over these next three films.

  It was going to be pretty gruelling for Will. Well, perhaps gruelling was the wrong word, Firebolt 3 would require a fair bit of screen time from him, second only to Chris Watson, who played the good guy character, but with Sentinels being an ensemble cast, his workload would be lighter, although not light enough to enable him to pop off and do any other films during the seven month shoot.

  He was currently growing his hair out because his character, Dante, a former agent of the Shadow Watch, begins the next movie by breaking out of a shady, secret prison, where apparently they don’t have barbers. He’d also have to dye his hair black again, but I quite liked him with dark hair. He was lucky because havin
g curly hair meant that it was much easier to keep looking good while growing it out.

  And it gave me something to run my fingers through while we relaxed on the sofa… and grab onto in the bedroom. What? I have a weakness for long hair on men. Don’t judge me!

  I’d had just over a month of unfettered access to his lovely locks, when Will came into the sunroom one afternoon, he’d just got back from doing something for BBC Radio, and looked positively ashen.

  “What happened?” I asked, approaching him and touching a hand to his forehead. He was pale enough for it to be an illness but he wasn’t hot. My heart stuttered for a second.

  “You haven’t seen the papers them?” he asked.

  “And seen you cavorting with Nicki? I hadn’t seen then until Mum called and emailed me a link.”

  Will looked thoroughly confused. “And you’re not upset with me?”

  “Well that depends, did you sleep with her?”

  “No!”

  “Then I’m not upset.” I shrugged.

  The pictures, taken last weekend when some of Will’s friends had gone out for drinks, seemed innocent enough to me. Will hugged her, sat close enough to share body heat while they spoke, danced with her, and he kissed her hair.

  When I saw the headline ‘Trouble in Paradise: Is Will Braxton’s Eye Wandering’, for a second… okay, for a few minutes my heart had been in my chest and I wondered if this could be true, but then my rational brain kicked in. Will had been the one to tell me about Nicki’s break up, he had told me that the night out was his friends attempt to cheer her up a little and he had invited me along, but I chose to go and see Marie instead, since Jim was away for the weekend watching football. Will had been home by 1am, granted, a little worse for wear, but clearly not in her bed.

  A second look at the pictures showed a man caring for, comforting and trying to cheer a friend, even if it was a female friend. I’d met Nicki; I didn’t know her well but I liked her.

  Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you’re of a jealous disposition) Will was a kind and tactile man. The first time I’d met him, during the study, I’d been upset by one of the questions and he had wrapped me in one of those massive hugs, even although I was a virtual stranger to him then. I often saw him hugging male friends, female friends, fans, and children, with abandon and in my presence, because Will wasn’t trying to hide anything, so he felt free to be tactile with others when I was around. It just so happened that this time, I hadn’t been there.

  And besides, I knew the media would turn on me eventually. Nicki was an up and coming actress too, with a small part in the new Superman film, and the idea that a nobody like me would be left for the glamorous, gorgeous Nicki, must have been too good for many media outlets to pass up, regardless of the veracity of the situation.

  “You really don’t mind?” Will sounded incredulous.

  “I really don’t,” I smiled at him.

  “Wow, that’s, um… not the reaction I was expecting.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, if I find out you lied to me today, I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to the Alsatian three doors down, but I can't live my life worrying about what you’re doing and who you’re with, Will. I trust you, and I will continue to trust you until I have a reason not to, at which point I will be gone faster than Redrum out of the starting gate on Grand National day.”

  “Understood,” he assured me as he approached, his tentative smile turning into a genuine one. “You’re something else, Elle,” he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be with you in the first place.”

  “So, now that awkwardness is out of the way, did you pick up a dress for the film festival?”

  His film, Ludwig, was premiering there, a biopic of Beethoven that he’d finished not long before he’d met me, and we had to attend the premiere. Luckily, the festival was in London, so we could sleep in our own bed. It was an independent film but the few people who had been given a screener DVD had raved about it and Will, according to Lee. It was the film of the opening night Gala, which pretty much made it a sure thing to be nominated for some awards, both from the festival and the upcoming awards season next year.

  Will was also something of a cinephile and there were loads of films being screened that he wanted to see. Luckily for most of them, I wouldn’t need to dress up any more than I would to go to the Odeon.

  “Do I really need a new dress?”

  He shook his head but had an amused smile. “You must be the only woman in England who doesn’t like dress shopping.”

  “You try having a size 12 top and size 14 hips, and getting a single garment to fit both.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a dress, you know. You can wear a tuxedo for all I care.”

  “Yeah,” I laughed, “but then people will call me a lesbian and say I’m your beard.”

  He frowned. “Why do I need a beard? If I just slept with Nicki Campbell, everyone knows I’m not gay.”

  “Ah, now there you go, see, being all reasonable and logical, but gossip doesn’t need logic.”

  “True. And if you really don’t want a new dress, you don’t have to get one. You make me feel like I’m forcing you to dress up.”

  “I like dressing up,” I assured him. “I just don’t like spending hundreds on a new dress when I have half a dozen or more gorgeous gowns upstairs that I’ve only worn once. And I really like that black lace dress.”

  “It is stunning.”

  I smiled.

  “Almost as pretty as you.”

  I laughed. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

  “Hey, you have to cut me some slack here, I went to a boy’s school, remember, we didn’t exactly get a lot of practice picking up girls.”

  I laughed harder. He knew exactly how charming he was.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” I assured him, slipping my arms around his waist.

  “No?”

  “No. In fact, you can get your coat if you want to.”

  He frowned but he was smiling. “But I’m at home.”

  “Then you should probably take me to bed.”

  I shrieked as he swept me off my feet and into a bridal carry.

  “Put me down, you idiot! You’ll break your back!”

  He did put me down eventually, on the bed.

  ***

  For the two weeks that the film festival was on, we attended a variety of events and I met a lot of very important actors. Luckily I was pretty good at pretending to be normal around them now. I even went to dinner with some of Will’s acting friends.

  He went to watch something there almost daily but sometimes I didn’t like the sound of the films and on two nights, I went with some of my girlfriends, because he didn’t like the sound of the film we wanted to watch.

  This Saturday I was making a day of it with Katie and another friend, Pat, who I’d been out for drinks with a few times. We’d just watched an adaptation of a Japanese manga comic and were returning later that day to see a romance called Primal. It sounded more like porn to me but I was keeping an open mind.

  As we left the screening, someone recognised me. That’s not totally unheard of these days, even when I’m not with Will, but it is rare.

  “Excuse me?”

  I pasted a pleasant smile on my face and prepared to be asked if I was Will Braxton’s girlfriend.

  “Are you Eleanor Greystone?”

  Well, at least this one actually knew my name. “Yeah, hi.”

  “Oh my god! Your run in Watchers is one of my all-time favourite comics!”

  “Really?” Watchers was a limited series I’d illustrated about three years ago for an independent comic house. My picture was inside the cover but it was such a small photo and of such limited interest, that no one had ever recognised me before.

  Katie and Pat hung back a little to give us room but I doubted this would take long.

  “Yeah! That whole series was great,” he e
nthused. “And the humour in your drawings was ace.”

  “I just gave life to the writer’s vision,” I batted the compliment away. “He’s the one with the humour.”

  “I wish someone would adapt that for the screen, it would make an amazing movie.”

  “Maybe one day,” I agreed. It really was a great series but it hadn’t had a lot of exposure. “How did you discover it?”

  “Oh, I run a comic shop, I read everything that comes through; I get first pick, if you will.”

  We chatted a little more about our favourites and some of the interesting upcoming ones, then I returned to my friends and we headed out to find somewhere to eat.

  “You can tell Will later that you have your own fans,” Katie teased as we left the building.

  I laughed. “Please, Will’s on a panel discussion this evening that sold out within three minutes of going on sale.”

  Pat and Katie ignored me and began planning my fan club while we ate. Pat volunteered to be secretary while Katie took the job of treasurer. Marie missed the meal due to work but joined us as soon as she was finished, unwilling to miss out on the possible porn film that evening, even though she had only just got off work.

  We headed back to the theatre at about half past six and I handed the girls their tickets.

  “I think my wine is catching up with me, so I’ll see you in there,” I assured them. I knew there was an introduction by the director, so I had time to visit the loo.

  I was just heading back when someone called my name and I turned and was greeted with a fist in my face, the impact of which made me stagger back a few paces.

  “You don’t deserve him, you fat, ugly bitch!”

  The woman made to throw another punch but my self-defence training kicked in; I pushed her right arm down with my left, before she could connect and my right fist connected with her solar plexus, winding her, then my left fist connected with her face. She staggered back for a moment, then fell on her arse.

  Security arrived as her two friends knelt down to help her and despite trying to assert that she had attacked me, because I was the one standing, they hauled us both away.