7. 2
“And when the press ask you about it?” Clara prompted.
“I have a standard response. Everything that happened that night is public record. Everyone knows the police came to my house. So I say each time, ‘The police attended my property that night and viewed security footage that exonerated me from any wrongdoing. I have no further comment’.”
“And that works?” Clara leaned forward further, unable to believe that their pasts were so similar with such manipulative people.
“Mostly. Some people try and pry more. Now I’m big enough the interviewers who do will never get another interview with me or my manager’s clients, so they all tend to back off pretty quickly.”
“That’s all… that’s…” Clara stumbled over her words, trying to find the right thing to say.
Taylor interrupted her, “All a bit pathetic?”
“No.” Clara shook her head emphatically, “I wasn’t going to say anything like that. I was going to say that’s all total shit. What a total bitch to try and ruin your life.”
“I don’t think she was a bitch,” he said sadly.
Clara looked sceptical. She thought Jack was a total bastard.
“Well, I don’t think that anymore. I think she’s ill.” He sighed deeply and slumped into the old, lumpy sofa. “I just wish she hadn’t made me her target. I wish we’d never met.”
“Yeah. I can see why. That’s hectic. Do you think it affected your career much?”
He contemplated her question for a minute before nodding his head. “It did. I was protected a bit as we were already partway through shooting the second Superman film, and there was no way the studio could replace me. There were campaigns though. People crying out for me to be fired and to never work again.
“There were a few projects that I wanted to do so much that the directors had told me would definitely be offered to me, which were suddenly withdrawn. A few of those were Oscar winners.” Taylor winced.
“That hardly seems fair.” She leaned forward to take hold of his hand, to offer comfort to someone she could see had been hurt, then stopped herself, realising she was about to try and hold Taylor bloody Anderson’s hand.
He cleared his throat a few times and swallowed before his lips quirked upward. “I’m a sad sack. How did I even get onto that topic? I’m living the dream of so many people, and I’m complaining about it! I think we should have some ice cream.”
Clara’s head snapped around to the food left on the table. The food that she realised she had sampled very little of, as she had become so wrapped up in his story.
“I do want ice cream, although I need more of this takeaway first.” She grabbed her fork and jabbed it into one of the containers, heaping more onto her plate.
“I’m surprised you haven’t kicked me out for complaining so much.” Taylor took another mouthful of his own food.
“Nah. You’re pretty. You can stay.” The words were out of Clara’s mouth before she had time to think about what she was saying.
She froze, and a blush rocketed up her cheeks. Had she just called him pretty? The most handsome movie star in the world, and she felt the need to tell him he was pretty. She picked a cushion up off the sofa and put it in front of her face.
“Any chance we can ignore that comment?” She peered over the top of the cushion to see Taylor with his hand over his mouth, shuddering with laughter.
“Not a chance! It’s every man’s dream to be called pretty.”
Clara scowled and threw her pillow at him, but he annoyingly caught it out of the air and put it behind him, leaning back smugly.
He put his hands behind his head, smirking, “I’m just going to sit here and look pretty while you eat.”
Clara’s appetite was suddenly gone, as the sleeves of his t-shirt had pulled tight, defining his heavily muscled biceps. Which were probably the nicest arms she had ever seen; she couldn’t help but contrast them with Jack’s thin arms, the arms he had been convinced he could pump up to Superman proportions.
She dropped her gaze back to her food and shoved another forkful into her mouth. Chewing slowly and swallowing, she pushed her plate away, no longer hungry.
Taylor bounced to his feet. “Wooooo. It’s ice cream time.”
He dashed to her kitchen to grab the ice cream he had stashed in her freezer.
Clara watched in bewilderment as Taylor Anderson made his way around her house with such familiarity.
He came back brandishing a pot of Ben and Jerry’s and holding two spoons. “Bowls or be pigs?”
Clara debated being ladylike, then realised she didn’t care that much and was happy to eat it out of the tub to reduce her washing up.
“Pigs.” She held her hand out for a spoon.
He bounded across the room and threw himself onto the sofa beside her, making Clara shuffle along so she wasn’t awkwardly pressed against him.
He handed her a spoon and offered her the ice cream. “Ladies first.”
“Nah huh. Everyone knows the top of the ice cream is the boring part, and all the chocolate bits are buried.”
“Dammit. You knew my trick.” Taylor held the tub in one hand and dived into it with the spoon.
“And no mining for the best bits. When it’s your turn, you eat what’s on the top.” Clara took her ice cream eating very seriously.
“Who have you been sharing with? That’s not cool to only have the good stuff.”
Clara opened her mouth to tell him that Jack always used to make sure he got all the best bits if they shared an ice cream tub, but she slammed it shut again because she didn’t want him to question her about Jack.
She shrugged. “Just people.”
He silently eyed her but didn’t push her. Then he dug his spoon into the ice cream and examined it before shoving the cold treat into his mouth.
She watched his massive first helping with a raised eyebrow and grabbed the tub off him. “Really? That’s how you roll? Finish a tub in two bites.”
“Yup.” He popped the p, and some ice cream flew out of his mouth, landing on the coffee table.
“Really?” She looked between him and the ice cream.
Taylor blushed and reached over to wipe up the mess. “I’m sorry, that was gross.” He glanced at her and paused as she had smeared ice cream over her nose.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” She stared at him wide-eyed and serious. “What? Where is it?” She reached up and wiped her cheek. “Did I get it?”
“No.” He chuckled and snatched the pot off her, taking another spoonful.
She wiped the other cheek. “How about now?”
He handed her the pot back, then reached over and wiped the ice cream off her nose with his index finger.
“Got it.”
She began giggling. “Thanks. We really are doing the pig method.”
Her laughter halted abruptly when he put his finger into his mouth and sucked the ice cream off. Clara blinked a few times before forcing her eyes to the ice cream tub and digging in for another bite. She pulled out a giant chocolate chunk and thrust the spoon out to show him.
“Look at this!” She exclaimed. “This has to be the biggest piece in the tub.”
Taylor examined it, leaning forward for a better look. “That’s huge.”
He glanced up and met her eyes. One second became two, then three, then four. Before he lunged forward to eat the entire load of ice cream off her spoon.
“And delicious.” He laughed and put his hand in front of his mouth to stop more ice cream from escaping.
“Hey!” Clara yelled and slapped his arm. Wincing slightly at the firmness of the bicep she had just hit. “That was mine! You said you weren’t a hog.”
“But it was delicious. How could I not?” He grabbed the pot back off her and began to dig into it. Until he found what he was looking for, then held the spoon out to Clara.
Clara looked at the contents of the spoon, a bigger chocolate piece than the one he had stolen from her.
Her mind instantly flashed to Jack, and the times he would look like he was offering her something nice. A taste of his meal, the best bit of something they shared or the chocolate chunks from the ice cream.
If she went to take it, when they first got together, he would just stuff it in his mouth and laugh heartily, slapping his thigh. Pointing at her and making sure she knew that he had no intention of giving it to her.
After a while, she stopped attempting to take it; then he would goad her and keep offering it to her until she tried to eat it, but every time, he would shove it into his mouth and laugh at her.
Until the day he didn’t, one day he had viciously shoved it into her mouth, pushing so hard that he bruised and cut her lip.
Clara stared at the spoon in front of her mistrustfully, not knowing how to react. If it was a joke, and he would pull it away and eat it, or if this movie star meant for her to eat off his spoon.
Her mind swirled, and she couldn’t decide what to do, so she kept staring at the chocolate.
Taylor watched her and eventually seemed to realise she wouldn’t take it. He grabbed her spoon and transferred the lump of goodness onto it.
“You went somewhere bad then,” he said quietly.
Shock hit her. She was usually so good at hiding her emotions, never letting anyone see how her past affected her.
“Yeah, some old stuff.”
“Did you want to talk about it?” he offered.
Clara shook her head. “One day, but I’m not ready today.”
She slowly lifted the spoon to her mouth, still half afraid that he would snatch it back at the last moment, but his attention was off her as he dug around in the pot for more ice cream.
They silently finished the tub, passing it back and forth, both politely making sure they didn’t take too many of the good bits.
Once the pot was empty, they sat back on the sofa, not quite touching, but Clara was very aware of his presence so close to her. Every time he shifted, she felt a flush of heat pass over her body until it became too stressful, and she got to her feet, planning on moving to the other chair.
Her phone beeped, stilling her; she grabbed it off the table and checked the screen.
‘I’m knackered. I can’t drive home. Can I stay in your spare room?’
Clara didn’t hesitate before she replied to Melanie, one of the junior doctors. ‘No problems. Clean sheets and fresh towels are on the bed. Help yourself to some leftover takeaway from the fridge. The key is in the usual spot, so let yourself in.’
‘Thanks. I’ll see you later.’
Clara sent a thumbs up to the registrar before putting her phone back onto the coffee table.
“Everything okay?”
She jumped slightly at Taylor’s words. In her tiredness, the phone had distracted her enough that she had half-forgotten he was there.
“Yeah, one of the junior doctors is going to stay over tonight. They’re exhausted.”
Taylor was silent for a moment before he said. “Oh, right. Cool. Yeah. I should be going.”
Clara looked at him sharply, watching his muscles contract under his shirt before he got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. He was about to say something, but a massive yawn split his face.
“Are you planning on driving home tonight?” A worried frown creased Clara’s brow.
“Yeah, I should get on back to my hotel.” Another yawn escaped from Taylor.
“And you’re coming into work with me tomorrow?” Clara’s frown deepened.
“I was planning on it, if that’s okay with you?”
She checked the time on her phone. It was only nine o’clock, but with how little sleep they’d had the night before, it may as well have been three in the morning.
“That’s fine, but you can’t drive.”
“Really?” He strolled into the kitchen to retrieve his bag and car keys.
She followed him, her eyes darting between him and the sofa. “Hmmm. That won’t work.”
“What won’t work?” He looked at her curiously as he got his keys out of his rucksack.
“You’re too tall, so you’ll have to take my bed. I’ll fit easily on the sofa.” She pointed at her sofa, that if she bent her legs slightly, she would fit on absolutely fine. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable in the world, but she would make it work.
“Sorry. What now?” He paused as he made for the front door.
Clara rolled her eyes; it should be obvious what she meant. “Look, you’re too tired to drive that far. And the local hotel is absolute shit. I wouldn’t let my dog stay there.”
“You have a dog?” He glanced around in interest.
“No, I don’t have a dog.”
“I’ve got two.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her his screen saver: his two dogs. “That’s Buster Keaton, and that’s Charlie Chaplin.” He pointed out which was which. “You should get a dog.”
“I don’t have time for a dog. I’m never home.”
“You should work less and stay at home more,” he declared.
“I can’t afford to work less.” It slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
He frowned. “I thought doctors were paid well.”
She blushed and gazed at the floor, avoiding his eyes. She couldn’t believe she had managed to say that. She hadn’t let anyone know about the financial mess that Jack had left her with as she was too embarrassed.
That while he swanned off and married the daughter of a billionaire, she had nearly drowned under his debts. Actually, she should say her debts as, in hindsight, Jack had been very sneaky and made sure all the money was borrowed under her name. He came up with excuse after excuse about why she should borrow the money, and by the end of their relationship, she was too scared of him to say no.
“Clara?”
She didn’t realise she had been lost in thought until he spoke again. She cleared her throat a few times and shrugged. “Long story. Mountains of debt.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I—“
Clara cut him off before he could say anything else. “So, to summarise, I have to work a stack and no time for a dog. Although if I had one, I wouldn’t let him stay in the local hotel; he would probably get fleas.”
Taylor smirked. “The local hotel is not an option then?”
She shook her head. “Definitely not.”
She leaned forward and plucked the keys out of his hand.
“And you’re not going to let me drive?” He raised an eyebrow at her and the keys that she had slipped into her pocket so he couldn’t get to them easily.
“Nope.”
“And you think the solution is me stealing your bed and you sleeping on the sofa?” he said, peering at the lumpy, uncomfortable sofa.
“Yeah, ’cause you’re far taller than me, so you won’t fit on the sofa.” It seemed very logical to her.
“I’m not taking your bed.” Taylor folded his arms, and the flexing of his biceps distracted her.
Clara stared, her brain going blank before she remembered what she was trying to do. “You are. You can’t sleep on the sofa.”
“I’m not taking your bed.” Taylor tried to disagree with her.
“You can’t sleep on the sofa. You’re too tall.” She shook her head emphatically.
Taylor laughed. “This is going to be a very circular argument, isn’t it?”
“Yup. I’m sleeping on the sofa. You take my bed,” she said with finality.
Taylor opened his mouth to argue again, but Clara didn’t let him speak.
“I’m going to change the sheets and get a towel for you. You should grab some scrubs from the spare room to sleep in.”
She spun around and strode away from him before he could object.
“Clara,” he called after her.
“It’s settled. I’m not discussing it anymore.”
“Clara.” He dashed after her, catching her up in the doorway to her room and gently grabbing her arm. “I’m not taking your bed.”
Clara froze under his grip, and she couldn’t help it; her body began to tremble as she recalled all the times that Jack had taken hold of her in anger.
“Shit.” Taylor must have felt her stiffen as he dropped her arm immediately. “Are you okay?”
Clara stood silently, breathing deeply and reminding herself over and over again that it wasn’t Jack; he was long gone.
“Clara?” He spoke softly. Leaning forward, he reached towards her shoulder but pulled his hand back before he touched her.
Clara still couldn’t say anything. She was so embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” He moved closer without touching her.
Clara paused before finally managing to get some words out. “The truth is not yet. Hopefully one day.” She squeezed her eyes shut; she couldn’t believe what had just tumbled out of her mouth.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She didn’t answer, just shook her head. She felt the warmth of his body move away from her.
“That’s okay. I won’t argue with you anymore. What can I do to help?” he said quietly, concern clouding his eyes.
“Can you grab another set of sheets out of the hall cupboard? I’ll take the ones off my bed and use them for the sofa.”
“Clara, I don’t want to take your bed.”
“I thought you said you were done arguing with me.” Her words were harsh, so she threw a smile over her shoulder to show him she was teasing.
He held his hands up, reversed up the corridor to the cupboard she had indicated, and grabbed the sheets out of it.