I lunged for my phone. ‘Anna!’
‘It’s for your own good,’ my best friend argued. And she was probably right. Still –
‘Anna, give it back –’
‘Oh don’t get your knickers in a twist, you can always unblock him later if you really want,’ Anna said, her tone betraying her true feelings about the idea. When she handed back my phone, all the messages were gone.
If I want.What did I want? Did I want Ross to contact me? Did I want to hear anything he had to say? I wasn’t sure the answer was yes. But I wasn’t sure it was a no either.
Anna flashed a smile before she and Laura rose from our little booth. ‘Listen, we’ve got to go – do not be late for your big TV thing because you’re moping here.’
‘I’m not –’
‘And don’t think about that dick,’ my sister said sharply, giving me that big mother hen glare.
‘Which one? Patrick or Ross?’ I asked sarcastically.
When I looked up at Laura, there was laughter in her eyes. ‘I think it was pretty obvious I was talking about Ross,’ she said. ‘But sounds like you’ve got a certain hot celeb on the mind anyway.’
Kissing the top of my head, Laura whirled away, pulling Anna with her.
Well, fuck. She had me there. All those messages from Ross, and it was Patrick I was still thinking about.
I glanced at the time on my lock screen.
Shit. I was late.
‘YOU’RE LATE,’ SAID THE woman on the door with a frown. She was wearing a headset, had a pen stuffed into her bun, and had on a belt to rival Batman’s, stuffed with masking tape, two walkie-talkies and a hammer, even if her clipboard had definitely seen better days.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry, I –’
‘Ms Donovan, over here, please. We’re running behind schedule,’ said another headset-and-clipboard guy with a shake of the head as he grabbed my arm and pulled me along a corridor.
‘Sorry, I –’
‘You’re late,’ said Patrick flatly as I was dragged into a make-up chair beside him.
He was dressed in a simple white tee and a pair of smart trousers, and it was unfair how good he looked, how utterly relaxed in this mad world of corridors and clipboards.
I dragged my eyes away quickly. ‘I know,’ I said quietly.
Awkward silence sat between us. Both of us refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
‘Two minutes,’ said the guy with the clipboard, his jaw tight as his gaze zigzagged down what had to be a schedule. ‘Ready, Mr Tetlow?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’ Patrick exhaled, rising to his feet.
Panic bloomed in my chest. What was I supposed to be doing here? Derek’s notes had been brief:Act like a supportive girlfriend.
How the hell was I supposed to do that when Patrick could barely stand to be in a room with me?
My nerves must have been written all over my face, because Patrick took one look at me before turning round to the producer. ‘Can I have one minute with Jessy, please? I promise I’ll be right out.’ He waited for the door to close before sitting back down next to me.
‘Look, I’m really sorry,’ he said, true regret in his voice. ‘About how I spoke to you. At the Thirsty Bear. I didn’t mean what I said.’
He seemed earnest, like he truly hadn’t meant to hurt me. Honestly, I didn’t know what to make of it.
‘I – I appreciate that, thanks,’ I replied simply. What else was there to say?
