Page 58 of Never Date a Celebrity

“Fillings for a sandwich?”

Imogen gave her a dubious look. “I can’t make you a sandwich for dinner.”

“You absolutely can, and I would love it. Do you know how often I indulge in eating bread?” Amy asked.

“I’m going to guess rarely.” Imogen doubted that complex carbohydrates were a staple of a Hollywood A-lister’s diet.

“Correct. I’m cold and I’m wet, and bread sounds like the best thing in the world right now. I’m game for a sandwich dinner if you are?”

Imogen mentally went over the contents of her fridge and nodded, confident she could provide some kind of sandwich that would be considered edible. “I am game. Your wish is my command. Go get yourself warm and dry and I’ll rustle something up.”

Imogen got to work while Amy slipped into her bedroom to get changed. She sliced up some of the fresh wholemeal bloomer bread that she had treated herself to from Cian at the Craic and Crumble earlier, when she had nipped in to collect the bread order for the Wishing Well. The smell of freshly baked bread had been too hard to resist, and she was glad now that she had been tempted. She added a thin layer of mayonnaise to each slice, then she quickly crisped up some prosciutto. It dawned on Imogen that she was putting far more effort into the sandwiches than she normally would for herself. Once it was ready, she added it to the bread along with some sliced tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and rocket. She topped it all off by adding some of Sally’s new, improved firecracker jam, which was absolutely incredible. Sally kept outdoing herself on the jam front—she seriously could start her own official brand. Maybe Imogen would suggest it to her.

Making the executive decision that no one would want a cold sandwich on such a terrible night, she put both sandwiches under the grill to toast them and melt the cheese inside. Hopefully Amy agreed with her assessment and wanted something warm too.

In perfect timing, Amy re-emerged from Imogen’s bedroom at the same moment as Imogen was pulling the sandwiches out from under the grill.

Imogen did one of those looks—one where she glanced over quickly, looked away, then glanced again, letting her gaze linger far longer the second time around. A double take which gave her away completely. She couldn’t help it. Amy looked so much like herself again than she had done when she’d arrived, despite the fact she was now dressed in Imogen’s clothes. Imogen liked that she was wearing them—there was something undeniably attractive about it. The joggers were a tad long as Imogen had suspected they would be, but Amy had pushed the cuffs up her legs a bit to make up for it. The top seemed like a good fit, and she was wearing the socks, so that had been a good call, not to mention ridiculously endearing. Amy had also dried her hair, which was now cascading down round her shoulders in loose waves. The whole look had a very visceral effect on Imogen. She blinked a few times, trying to gather herself. “You’re lovely,” she blurted out before immediately wincing. “And, um…dry.”

Amy didn’t look fooled by her cover-up, but she let Imogen away with it. “I am. Thank you.” She pointed over. “And those smell incredible. You toasted them too, which has just completed my life.” Warm sandwiches were a good shout after all. Hooray.

“Your life must be pretty good if all it’s been missing is my toasties,” Imogen replied lightly.

“It hasn’t been good this week,” Amy replied, not so lightly.

They looked at each other, and at that moment the lights started to flicker again. But unlike when they had flickered downstairs, this time they went off and stayed off. “Oh, no,” Imogen said into the pitch-black room once she realised that they weren’t going to come back on. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flicked on the torch. “We’ve lost the electric.”

“Hey, at least you managed to make dinner first,” Amy replied optimistically, shining her own phone too. “We won’t go hungry.”

That was a silver lining. “True. Hold on a sec and I’ll make our conditions a bit better to eat it.” Carrying her phone as a torch, Imogen fetched her candle-lighter and lit every candle she had on display around her apartment. It was a good job she liked candles, there were quite a few—though they might end up with a weird mix of aromas from all the different scented ones. When she lit the last one, she looked around satisfied with the result. There was enough light to see where they were going at least. And to see each other—which was only a good thing when Amy was around. Imogen was never going to not fancy her, was she?

Shaking off the thought, she lifted two tall white candles and carried them over to the breakfast bar, so they would have some light while they ate their food. She could bring them back into the living room again once they were done. This must have been what it was like to live in Victorian times.

“I have to say, I don’t hate this no electricity business,” Amy said as she took the seat across from Imogen. “The candlelit dinner is kind of nice.”

It was downright romantic, is what it was, but Imogen refrained from pointing that out. “I’m glad you approve.” She went to take a bite of her toastie, then realised she hadn’t got drinks. “Wine! Do you want wine? Or water? I might have some Coke Zero in the fridge?”

Amy froze. “Shit. I brought wine and left it in the car.”

Imogen laughed. “We’re a pair.”

Amy joined in. “We are, aren’t we?” She looked at Imogen affectionately. “I think we make a great pair.”

“You’re flirting again.”

“Am not.” Amy took a bite of her toastie, but the smile never left her face. After she chewed and swallowed, she said, “I was only stating a fact.”

“Hmm.” Imogen narrowed her eyes. “Well, you didn’t state what you would, in fact, like to drink.” Deflection was the best course of action.

Amy laughed again. “Whatever you’re having is fine with me. This toastie’s amazing by the way. Don’t judge me when I have it mauled in under two minutes.” She cemented her point by taking another bite.

“I would never. Maul away.” Imogen slid off her seat and pulled a bottle of red wine off her shelf, seeing as Amy had been planning on bringing some anyway. Besides, Imogen needed the Dutch courage.

She was nervous about being alone with Amy like this. More nervous than she had been while they were actually dating because now she felt like she was in no man’s land. They both were. Imogen was hyper aware of herself, overthinking everything she said and overanalysing every move she made. She suspected it probably was the same for Amy too. Like they were trying to figure each other out all over again.

It was weird, because the pressure should be off with them only being friends now, but tonight felt every bit as charged as all their previous dates had. Maybe even more so.

Holding in a sigh, Imogen pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and carried them over to the breakfast bar along with the wine. “You deserve a glass after the ordeal you went through to get here. I still can’t believe you did that. Thank you,” she said as she poured.