Look at her now.
She’ll never believe it, but everything I’ve done, I’ve done for her.
Azure’s London HQ,where we’re doing the first table read, is on the outskirts of London near Heathrow, in some god-awful place called Hounslow. But the building itself is seriously nice: brand-new, all glass and pale wood and living walls and open space. I eyeball the huge, sky-blue and silver Azure logo behind the vast reception desk. It’s kinda weird how Elle and I met on the Cote d’Azur, and now we’ve come full circle, kicking off this next chapter courtesy of media giant Azure. Do you think it’s a sign? I sure hope it is.
It’s not ideal that Elle and I will see each other for the first time at the table read. Scratch that. It’s a total fucking nightmare.But at least it means she can’t take a swing at me. Hopefully.
An executive who introduces himself as Dan is waiting for me at reception. He tells me he’s the first Assistant Director.
‘I hope you don’t mind, Mr Lander.’ He pushes his glasses up onto his nose. ‘But Ms Anderson and Ms Hart were wondering if you’d join them for a quick word before the table read?’
Were they, now. Dread and relief hit me equally.
‘Sure.’ I force a smile for Dan’s benefit. Don’t shoot the messenger. ‘Sounds good.’
I follow Dan to the bank of glass elevators, and we ride up to the second floor. Except it’s the first floor here. That always gets me. First floor is ground and second is first. As we rise at a snail’s pace (why British elevators are soslowis an eternal mystery), I focus on my breathing. On accepting. Surrendering. Being open. Wholehearted. Not fighting Elle’s reactions, whatever they may be, from a place of ego. I got this.
Except I don’t. Not really. My palms are sweating as I follow Dan down a bright corridor. I can’t believe this moment has arrived, nearly five years after watching that movie in Cannes, and seeing her face, and knowing I had to meet her. To be with her. To have her.
Dan stops at an opaque-glass-fronted room. He raps twice on the door and opens it, standing back to let me pass through.
And there she is.
Holy fuck.
I am so screwed.
Elle is standing in front of the full-length window, back-lit by the weak February morning light. She’s so fucking beautiful. Her hair is lighter, and her expression is stony, and her arms are crossed. She’s armoured up. I get it.
I’m so busy staring at her, I almost fail to register Alyssa’s presence in the room.
‘Josh,’ she says, and I blink. ‘You made it. Well done.’
She approaches and kisses me on both cheeks.
‘Hey, Alyssa,’ I manage. I turn back to Elle. ‘Hey, Elle. Good to see you both.’
Seriously?Good to see you both?Kill me now.
Elle nods tersely, but her eyes won’t meet mine. ‘Hi.’
I go to take a step towards her—I’m not sure if I should kiss her, or hug her, or something—and she shrinks back against the window.
No physical contact.
Got it.
‘How are your digs?’ Alyssa asks.
I turn back to her with effort. ‘My—ah—what?’
‘Your digs. Lodgings. Flat? Hotel?’
‘Oh right. Yeah, I have an apartment in Notting Hill. It’s nice, thanks.’ I threw that little detail in for Elle’s benefit. I wonder if she still lives there.
‘Excellent.’ Alyssa’s usually cool as a cucumber, but the frigid atmosphere in this room is throwing even her off her game. ‘Well, glad you’re getting settled in. The table read is next door, when you’re ready. I’ll leave you two to catch up.’
She gives us both a sternI hope I can trust you to behavelook, pats me on the arm and practically sprints out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
