Page 55 of Never Date a Celebrity

Those ladies hadn’t been the first new customers in that night either. If it kept up, Imogen was pretty sure they could budget for some new chairs soon. Maybe even some of the pretty outdoor string lights that they planned on adding to make the place look more inviting in the dark evenings of winter.

“Aye, I’m dead on. I was just saying to yer wee mate there, there’s some atmosphere in here tonight. Busy as I’ve ever seen it.” And One Pint Willy would know. He had been a loyal patron for years, through all the Wishing Well’s different tenures. There weren’t many days that Willy didn’t come in for his pint. Though Imogen suspected it was more about the company than the drink.

She smiled, his statement aligning with her own thinking. “Long may it continue.”

“Oh, I think it might. I heard them women that were sitting there saying that they taxied all the way over here from a town over. Heard about this place going all trendy when they were buying their veggies from Sally.”

Good old Sally, spreading the word as she promised. Between the gift of Sally’s gab, and what Niamh was putting out on their Wishing Well social media accounts, word was getting around. “Watch this space, Willy. There will be plenty more changes to come in time.” She gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder and moved on to the next dirty table.

The door swung open, and she looked up to see a group of six people entering the pub, laughing and chattering away. With a spring in her step, Imogen quickly gathered everything up off the table and made her way back behind the bar, ready to help Piper and Niamh if they needed it. It felt good, this tiny slice of success. A few extra tables might not seem like much—it wasn’t like they were packed. But somehow to Imogen, it felt like the start of something big. And other than Piper and Niamh, there was only one person she wanted to share it with.

While Piper dazzled the group with her infectious personality and Niamh got started on the drinks, Imogen slid round the corner and pulled her phone out again, discovering three messages waiting for her from Amy. Her treacherous heart soared because it was apparently ignoring all the memos that it wasn’t allowed to do that anymore.

I will be there. I can come tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the next? Tell me when, I just want to see you.

Imogen sighed and slumped back against the wall. How was she supposed to not be into this woman? And the next two messages only made it harder again.

I would come right now if I could.

Sorry, maybe that’s being more than friendly, but I can’t help it. I’m still adjusting to our new normal and I miss the original us. I’ll do better.

Amy had probably taken Imogen’s silence as disapproval. She wished so badly that she could get out of her own head, text Amy back, and tell her that she didn’t disapprove at all—because knowing that Amy still wanted her was everything. And it wasn’t like her own feelings had faded either. They hadn’t even a tiny bit.

“She’s famous, she’s famous, she’s famous,” Imogen whispered to herself as a reminder of why, despite her feelings, she couldn’t back down. She needed to stay strong and hold onto that.

Tomorrow was all she sent back. One word. No explanations or reasons. Because telling Amy that she missed her felt like something her heart couldn’t survive unscathed.

Chapter Eleven

The building that housed the Wishing Well was really frickin’ old. Probably hundreds of years old in some parts of its original structure. And with umpteen years of neglect on top of that, it felt very unstable in places too. Imogen hoped and prayed that it was much stronger than it seemed. The rattly windows currently felt like they were about to blow right in on top of them, due to the storm that had snuck in overnight and was now battering the village with serious vigour. The weather forecast had predicted some wind and rain, but what they had been hit with was a whole other level. Maybe Ballyluck was getting the worst of it—they were nearly on the edge of a cliff after all.

As the wind howled and the rain lashed down, Imogen made a mental note to run upstairs and check on both the apartments soon. The windows were bad, and she didn’t have much faith in how sturdy the roof was either.

Thank God they had remembered to bring in all their signage and flowers from outside or they would probably have blown into the sea and sailed halfway to Scotland by now.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll sell too many platters today,” Niamh said without taking her eyes off the front door which the wind kept blowing open every two minutes.

Piper was standing beside it armed with a mop and bucket, ready to soak up any rain that flooded in when it did. “I don’t think we’ll sell much of anything today. Who in their right mind is coming out in that? You’d have to be buck daft.”

“Even One Pint Willy hasn’t ventured out,” Imogen said. It was six o’clock and they currently had zero customers in the bar. Not a one. If Willy wasn’t prepared to brave the elements, Imogen was nearly sure that no one else would either. Even the Wednesday Gossip Club hadn’t made an appearance all day, and they were regular fixtures. Imogen absently wondered if they would still congregate for their weekly gossip on Zoom or something if the Wi-Fi stayed on.

“Should we just close up for the day?” Piper asked once she’d finished mopping up the latest puddle and rung out the mop again. “I can rustle us up a stir-fry.”

Niamh considered it. “I do enjoy your stir-fry. But what if someone does make the effort to come all the way over here in the storm and they can’t get in because we aren’t here? I’d feel so bad.”

“I get that, but I can’t see it happening,” Imogen said. They struggled enough for customers in good weather. “It’s like a ghost town out there.”

“Give it another hour?” Niamh suggested with a hopeful wince. “Or you guys can go up, and I’ll wait here. I doubt I’ll struggle.”

“It’s okay, I can wait with you. I haven’t had a chance to get to the gym lately, so this mopping business will do wonders for my arms.” Piper gave them a flex.

Imogen smiled, admiring Piper for finding a positive in a rubbish situation. How did she always manage to do that?

She perched herself on the edge of one of the wooden barstools opposite where Niamh was standing behind the bar. “It’s not like I have any other plans now either, so I’ll wait too,” she said. Wasn’t it just Imogen’s luck that there had to be a storm on the same night she was supposed to see Amy? Once the weather had gone from bad to worse earlier that afternoon, Imogen had texted Amy to cancel their plans. Well, reschedule them for a better evening. Amy had argued at first, but Imogen insisted. There was no way she was going to drag Amy the whole way out to Ballyluck in the middle of a storm. And she doubted the narrow, rutty roads into Ballyluck were passable anyway, between the flooding and the trees that had no doubt been blown down by the freakishly strong winds.

“I can’t believe tonight was the night I was finally going to meet Amelia Whitlock and the weather decided to turn all Day After Tomorrow,” Piper said.

“Yeah, I’m so disappointed for you,” Imogen deadpanned back.