Making Love (Destiny Book 1)

by Catherine Winchester

  Will won Best Actor that night, for Ludwig, which also won Best Film. This was another good sign for the Oscars, or so everyone kept telling me.

  For some reason, this award meant more to me than the SAG award, maybe because it was our own country voting for Will.

  His acceptance speech ran long but the British are too polite to cut him off, like they do with the Oscars, but I heard that it was edited down slightly for the broadcast. On his epically long list of thank yous, he thanked me for supporting him, and I felt people turn to look at me.

  I wasn’t supporting him, not like I should, but I pushed those thoughts aside, and smiled and cheered for him.

  I got a bit too drunk at the after party, and I may have become a little maudlin. Will didn’t understand my reaction, how could he?

  As it turned out, my frumpy dress, an attempt to lay low, only led to speculation that I was pregnant. My drinking later that night led to accusations that I was a child-abusing mother and suggestions that I be arrested until the birth and the ‘baby’ taken from me the moment it was born, for its own good.

  Those who believed the Nicki story from the end of last year, suggested that I had trapped Will into proposing to me with the baby and separated him from the love of his life, Nikki. Or said that it was no wonder he cheated on me, since he had such a lush for a fiancé.

  Whose life was I living? Because the things I was reading bore very little resemblance to my life. Or the truth, come to think of it.

  It seemed that no matter what I did, I couldn’t win. I was destined to be demonised.

  I was distracted from my surfing the salacious gossip sites by my mobile ringing, and I answered without checking the display.

  “Elle, I think I have a confession to make,” were the first words out of Hannah’s mouth.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My heart sank at my sister’s words. The fact she had phoned rather than Skyping was unusual too, which made me think that she didn’t want to see my face.

  “Okay.” I tried to keep my voice even and not put her off.

  “Dad phoned last night and he asked about you, then I remembered that we’d discussed how you met.”

  “What! Why?”

  “I can't remember what was said exactly, but it was after you’d met him for coffee and he made it sound like he knew how you met.”

  “Oh, Hannah.” Well, that would fit with it being a ‘close’ family member who leaked the truth.

  “I know. I’m so sorry, Elle.”

  I wanted to be angry. I wanted to throw things and hit stuff and trash the joint.

  Instead, all I felt was a massive void in my chest.

  My father, one of the two people in the world who should love me unconditionally and protect me had (possibly with malice aforethought) sold me out for $5,000. Lee had discovered that that was how much TMZ had paid their source.

  “Elle?”

  “I’ll talk to you soon, Han.” I hung up because while I was a little mad at her, I knew this wasn’t her fault, and she would feel awful if she heard me having a breakdown. I didn’t want that on my conscience.

  Will wasn’t there, so I curled up in a ball on the couch and cried my eyes out.

  I must have fallen asleep because I awoke to Will calling my name.

  “Elle? Elle!” he was heading to the office first.

  “In here,” I croaked.

  He came in, took one look at me and rushed over.

  “What’s wrong? Your sister texted to say you needed me. What happened?”

  Haltingly, and through fresh tears, I told him about my father. Will tried to reassure me that they were just suspicions but I knew. Deep down, I knew.

  Will calmed me down, fed me tea and cake, then sat with me all evening. I realised he must have left a meeting early to get back here so soon, and I felt awful for how distant I’d been with him recently. This really wasn’t his fault. Not even a little bit, like with Hannah.

  Evidently Hannah had shared her suspicions about Dad with our mother, as she called me the next day and laid into Dad. When we were children, I thought she was being harsh but now that I’d had a taste of his betrayal, I was inclined to agree with her.

  The best thing though, was that she acted like a mother. Okay, maybe most mothers don’t threaten to chop someone’s balls off and make them eat them, but that was just want I needed to hear. I giggled more during her phone call than I had since this news leaked.

  Maybe I had lost my Dad forever, but I seemed to be reconnecting a little with my Mum. It was something.

  ***

  We returned to California about a week before the Oscars, since Will had press to do and parties to attend beforehand, as well as studio meetings. The press were camped outside our hotel, still wanting details of our unusual meeting but the hotel had a secure, underground garage, so as long as we went in and out in cars, we were fairly okay.

  So far, I hadn’t been anywhere other than parties, which Will had to attend.

  The day before the Academy Awards, I was trying to work in our hotel suite when Will approached with his phone pressed to his ear.

  “Who’s your agent?” he asked me.

  “Uh, Ken, at Folio. Why?”

  He held up a finger to signal he’d tell me when he was done.

  “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled,” he told whoever he was talking to. “Will do, see you tomorrow.”

  He hung up.

  “What was that about?”

  “That was John Phelps; they’re thinking of asking you to do the official tie-in comics for the next Firebolt and Sentinels movies.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well you do illustrate comics, no?”

  “Well yes, but how do they know if I’m any good?”

  “John checked out some of your work after he met you.”

  This was too much to handle.

  We had formed a sort of uneasy truce after finding out about my Dad, but I had a feeling that war was about to break out again.

  “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy?” He frowned.

  “What’s wrong is that they don’t want me,” I snapped. “They want ‘Will Braxton’s Girlfriend’, oh no, sorry, I’ve been promoted to ‘Will Braxton’s Brainwashing Fiancée’!”

  Yeah, I was being spiteful. I didn’t even care that it was one day before the biggest award ceremony of his life.

  “I thought we’d been through all this,” he sighed, running a hand through his too-long hair.

  We had, so I bit my tongue. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “What’s wrong is that this stinks of nepotism. I’m getting this job not because of what I can do, but because of who I’m with.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong.” He shook his head. “Would they have heard of you if not for me? Maybe, maybe not but the reality is, they like your work or they wouldn’t be asking for a meeting with you.”

  “Even if that’s true, that’s not what most people are going to think. They’re going to think I’m getting special treatment and they already think I brainwashed or blackmailed you into being with me, or this is all one massive conspiracy so you can win an Oscar.”

  “Who cares what they think!” he yelled. It was the first time I’d ever heard him shout before. “You know your problem? You’re afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid!” I stood up, ready for a fight.

  “Yes you are. And I get it, you spent your childhood being judged and I understand why you feel this way, but you keep assuring me that you’re okay now, and clearly you aren’t. You’ve been acting oddly ever since the SAG awards.”

  Oh shit, he was getting awfully close to some ugly truths.

  “I am okay now, growing up with judgement gives you a very thick skin but that doesn’t mean that I want to invite people to throw darts at me!”

  “Maybe,” he said, “but I think the reality is that in some places, your skin is tissue thi
n.”

  He had shocked me into silence with his insights.

  After a beat of silence, he came around the desk, took my hands and pulled me over to the sofa.

  “Do you know what fame really is, at its heart?” he asked once we were seated. “It’s having the courage to stick your head above the parapet and say ‘This is what I can do’. Hopefully if you’re any good, people will notice and tell other people, that’s what fame is.”

  “That’s not what we deal with,” I replied, shaking my head. “We deal with people discussing our relationship, and my bra size, and spreading lies about us.”

  “True, but it all stems from that basic premise of people liking what we do. Does it have its downsides? Sure, everything does, but it has benefits too and you need to focus on those. Use this fame for your career, use it to show people how amazing your work is.” He took both my hands in his and looked into my eyes. “I know a lot of people who like your work, I know your sales have increased since more people found you, and I know you can handle this. Don’t let your mother frighten you into hiding your light, darling. You are amazing. Some people won’t see that because some people are unhappy, and they take that out on others. That’s their fault, not yours.”

  “What if they’re right about me?”

  “Darling, they don’t know you, how could they be right? You’re amazing.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, then I know you’d have the courage to stand up and be counted.”

  I began to cry. How could he be so nice to me, when I was secretly wishing for him to lose at the Oscars?

  “Here,” he pulled me into his arms and soothed me. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not the one who should be sorry,” I sobbed.

  He was right about everything, and with going on the internet so much, I’d just been feeding into my self-doubts and insecurities, sabotaging myself.

  “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll look into getting some proper help when we get back.”

  “All I want is for you to be happy, darling.”

  “I know.” God, I really had been a terrible girlfriend recently. “I’m so sorry, Will.”

  He lifted my head with a finger under my chin and smiled at me. “Are we friends again?”

  I nodded and wiped at my eyes, determined to start proving I was going to be a better girlfriend.

  “So, when is this meeting with John?”

  “Not sure, they’re going to email you, if they like your portfolio.”

  “So this job isn’t a sure thing?”

  “No,” he smiled, looking amused at my assumptions. “And you never know, you could get lucky and they’ll hate your work.”

  I laughed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologising.”

  I laughed harder. “I thought that was my line.”

  “Well, I’m stealing it”

  I gasped. “That’s plagiarism!”

  “I spend my life reciting other people’s lines, are you really that surprised?”

  “I guess not.” I kissed him. “Hey, do you suppose it’s too late to go to that dress shop?”

  “I thought you had a dress?”

  “I know, I do. I’m just not sure it’s good enough for you.”

  He frowned. “Darling, I’ll love whatever you choose, you know that.”

  “So is it okay, can I get another dress?”

  “You can get a thousand, if that’s what you want.”

  “Thanks, but one should do it.”

  “Can I ask what you’re planning?”

  “My coming out,” I smiled. Well, I tried to smile, although it may have looked more like a grimace.

  Those two little frown lines appeared between his brows. “I hate to break it to you, love, but you’re not gay.”

  “No, but I have been hiding in a closet. Tomorrow night I am officially coming out as your fiancée and I will walk the red carpet beside you, and talk to anyone who wants to ask me questions, and tell everyone who will listen how wonderful you are, and how we met, and how I really don’t deserve you. I might be a little late, and I’m sorry, but I swear I’m done hiding.”

  He had begun to smile when I started and it had now grown into a huge grin. He cupped my face with his hands.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “I do. And I know one night won’t actually change anything, but I will get help, like I said. I’ll do whatever it takes to be a part of your life, Will.”

  He kissed me, the kind of kiss that leaves me breathless and unable to recall my name for a few seconds. The kind of kiss that gives me very impure thoughts.

  “I really hope that shop stays open late,” I said when he finally let me up for air.

  “We might not be in New York, but this city doesn’t sleep either, darling. Trust me, they’ll be open.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  If I thought I was used to red carpets, I was in for a shock. This was manic. Chaos even, albeit of the organised kind.

  As the car queued up to let us out, I suddenly got frightened; the large whiskeys I’d had just before we left the hotel didn’t seem to be doing their job quite so well any more.

  “Darling,” Will reached out and took my hand, directing my attention away from the commotion outside. “You’re not alone any more, lean on me, all right?”

  “This should be your night though, you shouldn’t have to look after me.”

  He gave me an incredulous look. “I’m going to pretend that the woman who has traversed the Atlantic three times in the last month alone to support me, didn’t just say that it’s not my job to help her, all right?”

  I nodded and found a smile for him.

  “Good.”

  The car moved the final few feet and it was our turn at the end of the carpet. We were here early, not just because Will was nominated, but also because the story of how we met was going to be a huge topic too.

  My hair was up and quaffed to perfection, my body had been massaged, buffed, rubbed and made to glow (apparently), my nails had been professionally painted with insect resin (who does that?) and my makeup was flawless, or so I was told. My body had also been beaten into submission with spanks; I’d rather be spanked than wear spanks but hey, we can't always get what we want.

  I had to admit, although I already had my Prince Charming, I felt a little bit like Cindrella going to the ball (assuming Cinders felt a good deal of outright terror, of course). I tried to cling to my new found princess feelings, reminding myself that this was supposed to be exciting as well as daunting.

  Lee moved to the door but grabbed my hand before he opened it. “You’ll be fine,” he assured me. “This is about as superficial as interviews get and everyone here has a vested interest in making you look good, okay?”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Lee.”

  He smiled and got out. The security people followed, then Will was next and he reached back to help me out.

  We paused at the end of the carpet for photographs and I remembered to smile, then Will and I moved to the public bleachers. No one had anything to sign (maybe it was against the rules or something) but they all took photographs of us and Will shook hands with those who reached out and he chatted to some of them.

  No one directly addressed me, but they did ask Will, “Is it true what the papers say?” a few times.

  “What specifically?” Will asked. Just giving a blanket ‘yes’ could confirm a lot of lies.

  “About the experiment.”

  “Absolutely,” Will and I grinned.

  Some in the crowd cheered and clapped at that, which was weird.

  Lee ushered us further down, to the interview areas and Will held my hand or kept an arm around me the whole time.

  First came MTV. Will knew the interviewer, Josh, and they greeted each other with a hug (but Will kept hold of my hand).

  “Big night for you,” Josh smiled. “Best actor.”

  “Yeah, really big. I’m just keeping everythin
g crossed and hoping for the best.”

  “And this is your lovely fiancée, I presume?” he looked to me. “It’s Eleanor, right?”

  “I tend to get called Elle mostly; like the supermodel, but with shorter legs.” I pointed a thumb at Will. “He brings the legs in this relationship.”

  My knees were actually shaking and I knew I was rambling. Will squeezed the hand he held and I balled the other into a fist, so no one could see that I was shaking.

  “And who wears the pants in your relationship?” Josh teased me.

  “Oh, he does, I’m far too neurotic to be given that kind of power.”

  He laughed but I wasn’t entirely sure what I was saying. I didn’t have a PR mode, I was just saying the first thing that popped into my head.

  “Now, I have to ask about how you met, is it true you were doing a study about love?”

  “Participating in it,” Will agreed. “The lady who was doing it, the wonderfully insightful Katie, needed test subjects, and I offered to help her.”

  “So, I have to ask this,” He gave me an apologetic look, “were there any mind altering drugs involved?”

  “Sadly no,” I tried to laugh, I hope it didn’t sound weird. “At least in a nightclub, you can get wasted to give you the courage to approach the sexy man, but I didn’t even have that.”

  “So you had a sober blind date?” He sounded horrified.

  “Sober blind date at 3pm on a Wednesday. Doesn’t really scream romance, does it. He didn’t even buy me a coffee.”

  “They were free!” Will protested, sounding offended but there was a smile on his lips.

  “Whatever, dude, you’re part Scottish.”

  He and Josh laughed a bit too hard at my joke, it wasn’t that funny. Or was I just being hypersensitive?

  “And how do you feel about Will’s nomination?”

  “Well…,” I looked hesitant. “It should have happened years ago but you know, better late than never, I guess.”

  I grinned and Will laughed.

  “Honestly, I’m thrilled for him,” I corrected myself, just in case anyone didn’t get our banter.

  As we walked away, I wondered how many people had just watched that. Had I just made a total fool of myself? I’d probably mortally offended every Scotsman on the planet by referencing the ‘cheap’ stereotype.