This seems like a pretty weird time to be thinking about exercise, really. But ever since I heard the words “I love her,” come out of Jett Carter’s mouth, that’s all I’ve been able to think about. The words are so large they seem to hang in the air above us as I wordlessly take the hand Jett offers me, and let him lead me back down the path, past the front door of the house, where Mum stands gaping in the doorway, and down the sloping garden to the rough seagrass border that separates it from the beach.
The words are still there as we stop, the wind tearing at our hair and clothes as we stand there silently, neither of us knowing what to say.
Back at the house, the paps are still clicking away. One or two of them have snuck through the open gate, and are wriggling commando-style towards us, presumably hoping we won’t notice them. Scarlett is nowhere to be seen. (McTavish is still enjoying his sausage roll, though, so at least someone’s happy.)
“Do you want to go back inside?” I ask, suddenly realizing how much he must be hating this, standing out here on the very edge of this exposed beach, where anyone who walks by can see us. “So they can’t get any more photos?”
“I don’t care about the photos, Lexie,” he sighs, reaching out to brush the hair the wind has blown back into my eyes, away from my face. “I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. I just care about you. That’s it. Just you.”
I look up, and into his eyes, and I want to believe him. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But the photographers have almost reached us now. I can hear the frantic click-click of the shutters as they capture every precious moment of this conversation, and, as much as I hate them for it, I know that, without them, Jett and I wouldn’t be standing here at all.
Can something that started as a lie really become the truth?
Is it possible that I was the heroine of this story all along?
“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” I admit tearfully, trying to pull away. But, before I can move, Jett reaches out and turns me around, so his body is shielding mine, and blocking the photographer’s view.
“This is real,” he tells me, taking my chin gently in his hands. “I am. We are.”
It isn’t snowing — or even raining, which would be almost as good — and neither of us is wearing a cute little bobble hat. But when Jett finally kisses me, there is indeed a cheer from the crowd behind us — or from McTavish, at least, who lets out a loud whoop, and almost drops his sausage roll in the process.
Not that I notice any of that, of course. I’m too busy concentrating on Jett, and the way his lips feel against mine; his arms wrapped tightly around me, as if he’s never going to let me go.
“So, whaddya say,” he grins, when we finally pull apart. “Are we going to give this thing a go? A proper one, this time?”
“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Jett?” I say, smiling up at him. “Your real one?”
“I am.” He leans forward and kisses me lightly on the tip of the nose.
“Will I… will I have to sign a non-disclosure again? Or promise to—”
“You don’t have to sign anything,” he cuts in. “And the only thing you have to promise to do is love me. That’s it.”
“I think I can manage that. I think I can love you. I know it, in fact — because I already do.”
It’s a pretty clumsy way to tell someone you love them, all things considered. But I’m new to this. A complete amateur, in fact. Fortunately for me, though, Jett comes to my rescue.
“Well, that’s sure good to know,” he says softly. “Because I love you too, Lexie. And it would’ve been a bit awkward if you hadn’t said it too.”
“I’m going to say it a lot from now on,” I tell him shyly. “Just so you know.”
“I’m going to say it too,” he replies, his eyes twinkling. “I think I might say it in private next time, though, if it’s okay with you?”
He glances over his shoulder, to where the photographers are all jostling for space, some of them now inside the garden in their bid to get the best shot of us both.
“Come on,” Jett says, taking me by the hand. We run together back up the garden to the back door of the house, which is thankfully unlocked. As soon as we’re inside, away from the prying camera lenses, Jett pulls me back into his arms.
“This isn’t for the cameras,” he tells me, his green eyes never leaving mine. “This one’s just for us. You and me.”
Then he kisses me again. And it might not be the first time, but it definitely feels like the start of something real.
It feels like the start of us.
EPILOGUE
Heather Bay Gazette
FUNDING BOOST FOR THE HIGHLANDS AS HOLLYWOOD MOVIE TO START PRODUCTION SOON
