‘That last…’ Mae said. ‘What I just said.’ She could feel the blush creeping up her neck. ‘About me and Callie. I don’t want it in the programme.’ She didn’t look at Callie when she said it.
Neil did his best sympathetic face. ‘Mae, I get it,’ he said. ‘It was… raw. But that’s why it’s so good. People at home will really—’
‘I don’t care about people at home,’ Mae said. Her voice came out angrier than she’d expected. It shut him up mid-sentence.
Mae noticed Isabella’s mouth did a tiny, impressed twitch.
‘Legally,’ Neil tried again, ‘we’re covered. You signed the—’
‘I know what I signed,’ Mae said. ‘I also know I can tell you to get out of my bakery.’
The room seemed to lean back a fraction, like they’d all taken the same step at once.
Sam straightened. ‘Hang on,’ he said quietly. ‘Let’s just—’
‘No,’ Mae said. ‘You lot came in here on the understanding this was about these two,’ she nodded in the direction of Sam and Callie, who she still hadn’t made eye contact with. ‘Not… not ripping open my private life for entertainment.’
Neil was magnanimity its very self. ‘We’re not ripping anything—’
‘You are,’ Mae said. ‘Or you will. Because you think it’s entertainment. But it wasn’t supposed to be—’
‘You did agree,’ Neil said, and there it was, the petulant edge under the charm. ‘If you read the—’
‘I skimmed the contract while you were standing over me with a pen. Let’s not pretend it was done properly, you slimy sod.’
The sound guy made a small, involuntary noise that might have been a laugh and hastily converted it into a cough.
‘Look,’ Neil said, changing tack. ‘We can talk about what makes the cut later. Right now, we just need to get enough usable material in the can. The network’s expecting a segment—’
‘Thenetworkcan go fuck,’ Mae said.
That rocked him. ‘Excuse me?’
She could feel Callie’s gaze burning into the side of her face now. Still, she didn’t look.
‘I’m done,’ Mae said. ‘You’ve got enough shots to stitch something together. Use them. Or don’t. But you’re not filming anything else in here today.’
The crew looked at one another, waiting to see which way the wind would blow.
‘Mae, be reasonable,’ Neil said, his patience fraying. ‘We’ve got a full crew on day rates, a celebrity guest, a schedule that—’
‘It's not my problem,’ Mae cut in. ‘My problem is that I’ve got orders to fill, regulars to serve, and a business to run that will still be here when you’ve all buggered off.’ Mae did find her eyes sliding to Callie on that last part. She was looking down. Mae didn’t think it was shame. You didn’t come back with a TV crew to pick over the carcass of what you’d killed on your way out, not if you had any humility.
‘It’s… human interest,’ Neild said desperately.
‘It’s my life,’ Mae said. ‘Now get the fuck out.’
For a second, she thought he might actually try to argue his way through it. But then something in him recalculated.
‘You’re overthinking this,’ he tried, last throw. ‘Once it’s cut, you’ll see. It’ll be great for the bakery. Free publicity. People will come from miles.’
‘They already come from miles,’ Mae said, tired now. ‘Without knowing who broke my heart at eighteen.’
She heard Callie make a small sound, almost a wince. But let her take this. She deserved it.
Sam stepped forward, hands up. ‘Neil,’ he said. ‘Leave it.’
He turned to him, incredulous. ‘Sam, you of all people know how this works. We can’t just—’
