“No one gives a shit,” I said as I stalked off.
Tabitha needed to know I would always support her. I was hers…and I could only hope I could convince her to be mine again.
54
Tabitha
Itook my placebeside an uneasy Tim on the pink sofa, ready to watch the premiere on a big screen. Panic rode through me, hardening my belly. I held my body in suspension, desperate to keep my distance.
The cameras were on us, filming our reactions. I’d willed myself to plant a slightly pleasant smile on my face as I watched, Aberdeeen hovering at the back of us, impatient, obviously bored. I gritted my teeth. The first episode was slanted as badly as I’d suspected—I was a stickler, no fun, with very little personality, and Tim had it all. But I’d steeled myself to look a bit bemused, allowing myself a little eye-rolling, only because I knew I would have looked worse if I were sulky or furious.
It went to commercial break, and Poppy appeared to touch me up. But desperate to put distance between Tim and me, I vaulted up with the excuse of a loo break.
“Tabitha, just a moment?” Tim said.
I didn’t answer, just turned to walk away. Then he called my name again, louder this time. I stopped and froze. His booming baritone hadn’t come from the sofa where we’d been sitting. And the tone had been soft and amused.
I turned back and startled. It was coming from the huge screen.
Clips of me during the filming flashed, laughing and joking with the crew, standing up for them when Simon was snarky, interspersed with shots of Tim looking franklymoonyin my direction. What was going on? When had he taken these clips? But it wasn’t just him. Other people had filmed these clips too, because he was in them with me.
I tried to process the flashing images and realized it wasn’t the show; this montage was an advertisement airing during the show’s commercial break. Then it was Tim, in Mum and Dad’s kitchen, addressing the camera.
“This is why I love Tabitha and will always love her. She’s fun and witty and kind. She’s talented and hardworking, and she hauled concrete, wood, and old tiles all day long, then ensured this place became as beautiful as you will see it turned out. If she’s seen as a stickler, it’s because she cares about her work. If she’s seen as boring, it’s because she steps up and takes responsibility and cares about people. If she’s seen as old-fashioned, it’s because she values manners and respect. I love how she dresses in pearls and florals, because she knows who she is, and I admire her for that.” He gave the camera a small, secretive smile. “And she looks bloody hot in them.”
I dropped down onto the sofa. His words left me reeling and breathless, and I clutched my chest, where my heart waspumping like a runaway freight train. I felt him move beside me. Now there were two of him, one in front of me and one beside, his nearness scrambling all my senses. Without looking at him, I could feel his arm brush mine, his fingers graze mine, and the small motion sent flutters through my body.
The screen spun off into another quick montage of people laughing at my jokes, me hauling wheelbarrows, and some more of his mooning over me. I flushed from the besotted love in his face in these unguarded moments. This was real; this was him. He’d messed up, badly, and hurt me, but he was laying himself open and vulnerable in front of a lot of strangers and friends. And this was the grandest of grand gestures for him because he liked to be in control, in charge, and this was wildly putting himself out there.
The whole cast was still. Slowly, everyone turned to me.
Simon yelled, “Places! Five, four, three, two…”
Poppy hurriedly dabbed at the sweat I could feel gathering at my hairline and ran a brush over my skin, making amused eye contact with me, and nodded to him. “Set the standard for hard-core groveling.”
Trust Tim. He worked hard, loved hard, and groveled hard.
In a daze, I stared at the screen, and though I knew the rest of the premiere was rolling and we had to react, I turned to Tim. His eyes were locked on mine.
“I think I’ve just fucked up our chances to win the prize,” he said.
At the swear word, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Simon punch up his fists and shake them hard.
I smiled, my lips a little wobbly, my chin quivery. “I think you might have.”
My ears were blasted with our irritated voices on the screen.
“I’m sorry I lost us the prize money,” he said.
I felt only relief, a sense of letting go. “It’s okay. It’s actually okay.”
There would be no cash to back up Mum and Dad for the launch of the inn. If they failed, they failed. That was it; the house would be sold, and most of the money would go toward paying off the mortgages they’d taken out through the years. I wasn’t going to have them stay with me. As Mum said, they’d find some other unsuspecting relatives and camp out in their barn or whatever. That wasn’t what I would have done, but it wasn’t my decision. Stress scratched at the back of my neck, but I was determined to let it go.
Simon positioned himself behind the screen playing the first episode, jumped up and down, pointed at the screen then at us, and then made motions of speaking. He looked completely bonkers, and behind him, the crew sniggered.
“Where did you get all those videos?” I asked Tim.
“Just started taking them from day one. First, because Simon badgered us to take and post videos, and I was determined to win. By day two, once I saw those comments about you, I knew I might need them, but I didn’t know how I’d use them.”
