Page 42 of Never Date a Celebrity

Amy gave her a small smile. “I do okay. I’m particularly enjoying this project.”

“Oh yeah? Are the people you work with nice?” Imogen asked with interest. Maybe she would be able to get the scoop on some of the cast members for Piper. What were those actresses’ names again? Bridget Cle-something and Amelia White? Something like that.

“Some of them are, some of them aren’t. It’s the same as anywhere really. But I do like it here in Ireland. And the company I’ve been keeping in my spare time is pretty great too.”

“I thought you were only seeing me,” Imogen joked.

Amy laughed and threw a piece of bread at her. “You know I mean you.”

Imogen grinned because she did know. Maybe it was time to address the other elephant in the room. Because although things were great, it was always lingering there in the back of her mind. “I’m enjoying your company too. But you’re not here for long, are you?”

“A couple more months,” Amy said before taking another bite of her food.

Imogen nodded. “So, although we enjoy each other’s company, our time together is limited.” It wasn’t the most pleasant conversation to have over dinner, but it was one that they needed to have. Imogen wasn’t a great one for going with the flow, which was what she had been doing up to now. But she couldn’t let herself get carried away without addressing the expiration date that would eventually come.

Amy regarded her with a look of slight confusion. “Why does it have to be limited?”

Imogen frowned. Surely Amy knew what she meant. “Once you’re finished with this job then you’ll be leaving again.”

“Does that mean that you won’t ever speak to me again?” Amy asked with amusement.

“Of course not. But it does mean that you’ll be gone.”

“Oh, Imogen.” Amy set her fork down and leaned forward like she was about to say something really important. “I don’t go into things with a view of them being short-term. If that’s all they end up being, then fine. But it’s never my aim.”

Imogen’s throat suddenly felt thick, and she swallowed. “So, what does that mean?”

“It means that I don’t think of you as some sort of holiday fling.” Amy laced their fingers. “I know we’re still seeing where this goes, and if it does end up just being a fling, then fine. I’m enjoying it. But I like to think if something’s good then I can find a way to make it work somehow.”

“But how?” Imogen asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Amy said honestly. “But if you expect me to walk away when my job’s done and you never hear from me again then I need to tell you now, that’s not who I am. So, if you’re holding back for that reason, you don’t have to.”

Imogen’s heart picked up again. Amy was really good at making it do that. The pounding thing. “I’m really bad at not having a plan.”

Amy smiled at her fondly. “I already know that.” She ran her thumb up and down Imogen’s hand. “But do you think we can just enjoy each other for now? Give this a chance to see where it goes? With the knowledge that, although there’s no plan, it doesn’t have to end if we don’t want it to.”

Imogen looked at Amy for any signs of doubt or insincerity. For any of the red flags she should have been looking for in the past. But she saw nothing but compassion. Maybe even something deeper that she didn’t dare delve into yet. “No holding back?”

“No holding back.”

Imogen took a breath. “I’m in.” As if she had ever been anything but.

“And that’s another two hundred pounds you owe me,” Imogen said way too cockily for Amelia’s liking.

“What? I only have four hundred left!” Amelia was so bad at this game, but she had to confess she was still enjoying herself even though Imogen was totally wiping the floor with her. Who knew you could have an actual strategy for Monopoly?

“Then you’re going to be bankrupt very soon,” Imogen replied in a singsong voice. She held her hand out and Amelia reluctantly slapped the pretend money into it.

“There,” she said huffily. “Robbed me again with your stupid stations.”

Unfazed, Imogen carefully sorted the money into her neatly organised, bulging pile. “People underestimate the power of owning the stations.”

“We should have stuck to Scrabble,” Amelia muttered.

Imogen shot her a look. “No. We tried that, and you made up words that don’t exist.”

“I did not. You just didn’t know my words. It’s the language barrier.”