‘Where should we go?’
I stared at him. My brain was in overdrive. I didn’t have space to figure out a single other thing.
‘Down the hall,’ Lily said, gesturing. ‘It’s quiet.’
Romeo-Dylan nodded and disappeared, Cece in his arms.
God, I wanted to do the same with Lily. I wanted to pull her into some still, silent room so we could whiteboard our way through this.You were right,I would say.I was wrong. I shouldn’t have rigged the season, and now it’s blown up in my face. You can gloat later. Right now, I need you to help me figure this out.
But I didn’t have that luxury. The Convent was filled with crew, all of whom needed my direction. The most I could manage was a quick whisper. ‘I need to get Dylan and Cece to stay on set to shoot pickups, if I’m going to turn this clusterfuck into a watchable season of television,’ I murmured to Lily, curling my fingers around her wrist and jerking her into the kitchen when everyone was distracted. ‘And I need to find the money to do it.’
‘Copy that,’ she whispered back. ‘I’ll help you get them there.’
I loved her so much. She was going to be unbearably smug about this later, but I loved her so fucking much.
I gave Romeo-Dylan and Cece one more minute while the crew finished setting up, and then I practically beat down the door of the room he’d taken her to. It was a laundry, and Cece was sitting on top of the washing machine, arms and legs wrapped around Romeo-Dylan as she sobbed into his shoulder.
I almost laughed. Of course they were having some major emotional moment in their relationship in a laundry.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ I exclaimed. ‘I don’t have time for you two to fuck on the washing machine! Get out of there, both of you. Now. You’ve really fucked me over, and we have to work out how to fix it.’
It wasn’t hard to find my angriest, most terror-inducing producer voice. It required absolutely no pretence to let the fury and the frustration out instead of compartmentalising it away. Romeo-Dylan and Cece might actually have the fairytale love story I’d set out to create with the Dylans, but telling it was going to be an absolute mountain of work.
Despite my best efforts, I’d ended up exactly where I had with Brett and CJ and Mary-Ellen last year. I had to burn down everything I’d built and start again. I might get a great story, but it was going to be exhausting.Exhausting.
I would not be getting that sleep-in tomorrow.
‘How long has this been going on?’ I demanded.
I was pacing back and forward in front of the fireplace. Romeo-Dylan and Cece were sitting so close to each other on the couch they were practically in each other’s laps, holding hands like one of them was about to fall off a cliff. Amanda and Heather were in armchairs, awkwardly third-wheeling,while Lily perched on the arm of another one, third-wheeling much more elegantly.
‘Um…’ Cece said.
‘Let me put it another way. When did you start fucking?’
‘Don’t yell at her,’ Romeo-Dylan said. ‘Yell at me all you want, but don’t yell at her.’
‘I’m going to yell at both of you as much as I damn well please. Answer me. When did this start?’
I knew the answer perfectly well, but that didn’t matter.
They needed to understand how angry I was – just how disastrous their choice was, for me and for the show – because the pressure point I was going to sink my thumbs into was guilt. The guiltier I could make them feel, the more I could make them do.
‘Surely you can work that one out for yourself, Murray,’ Lily said, examining her fingernails. ‘Why do you think Cece snuck out that night? So they could go and play bridge?’
It was the perfect interjection. She’d figured out my ploy immediately. Reminding them of the huge favour I’d done them by letting them have their one night together would only compound their guilt at screwing me over.
I shoved away the impulse to fall at her feet. I’d do that later. ‘And it was that mind-blowingly good it made you break your contract?’ I barked at Romeo-Dylan and Cece.
They both looked at the floor, saying nothing.
Then they looked at each other. One single, stolen glance.
It took a second. Maybe a second and a half, as my brain cross-referenced that glance with the way Romeo-Dylan had behaved over the last couple of weeks, his increasing distraction and detachment, that ultimate decision to sayno.
Then it added in the intimacy of the way they were sitting together now, hands clasped tight, physical intimacy communicating emotional intimacy.
Everything came into focus.
