Chapter Eighteen
“I’m so excited!”
Georgia squealed the words directly into my ear, causing me to almost leap off the sofa.
I had to admit though, I was finding it difficult to hold back a smile as we huddled together in the center of the sofa, snacks at the ready.
In about five minutes’ time, I was going to find out how many of the scenes I’d filmed for the BBC drama they’d kept in.
Disappointed at my lack of reaction, Georgia thumped me in the arm. “Admit you’re excited too.”
I took a large handful of popcorn before attempting to bring her back down to Earth.
“You know it wasn’t a huge part, right? And that’s before some of my scenes probably ended up on the editing room floor.
Sometimes, they even cut parts altogether.
So, don’t build it up too much. I don’t want you to be disappointed. ”
She thumped me in the arm again, evidently choosing to ignore what I’d just said. “You’re going to be on the BBC! My friend is going to be in an actual proper TV program, which millions of people will watch. Do you think Justin will see it?”
My smile slowly slid off my face. Well that was one way to eradicate the good mood I’d just been in.
It was a month since the night Justin had turned up during my date with Jack.
A month in which there’d been no contact between us at all: no messages, no calls, no visits to the restaurant, nothing.
He’d done exactly what I’d asked him to and had left me alone.
“I doubt it. I expect if he accidentally turned over and saw my face, he’d probably switch it off. ”
Georgia cuddled in closer. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. It was far from fine.
I’d gotten what I wanted. Only problem with that was, the more time that had passed, the less it felt right.
I still thought about him—often. Not so much about the whole picture but more about the two separate halves I missed equally—the man in the light, I’d laughed with and shared so many kisses with, and the man in the dark, the one who’d wrenched blinding orgasms from me with expert touches.
Sometimes, I even managed to convince myself there must have been some mistake, that there was no way it could have been the same man.
“You could still call him you know.”
I swiveled my head toward Georgia. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“I’ve left it too long. And I deleted his number.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t still have a message on your phone or something.”
“I don’t. I deleted those too.”
She sighed. “You know where he lives.”
I shook my head. I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t occurred to me. But, what would I say. “Hi, Justin, I was just passing and thought we could have that chat, you know the one I absolutely point blank refused to have with you weeks ago.” No. Much better to accept it just wasn’t meant to be.
Georgia sighed again, even more loudly this time.
She turned her whole body toward mine, trying to catch my gaze as I deliberately avoided looking at her.
“If you were happy, Dean, I’d leave you alone.
But, you’re so miserable. You have been…
ever since…well, you know. All you do is work. Just, talk to him.”
My headshake became even more pronounced. “Even if I wanted to…it’s been a month. He’s probably already moved on.”
“You don’t know that. Plus, if he has, that’s probably only because you led him to believe you were cheating on him.”
I fixed her with a stony glare. “And whose fault’s that?”
“Yours. I may have had a hand in it. But, you were the one that—” She caught herself. “Never mind. This is not the time. Let’s enjoy your small screen acting debut. That’s the only thing that matters at the moment.”
For the next hour, we did nothing but eat popcorn and watch the action on screen.
Georgia had positively vibrated with excitement all the way through, elbowing me as if I hadn’t noticed whenever I appeared on screen.
As far as I could work out, they hadn’t cut any scenes, not from the first episode I was in anyway.
There were two more still to come over the next two weeks.
Perhaps I wouldn’t fare quite so well in those.
My phone had been inundated with positive messages, my favorite probably being my brother telling me how good I was, and how excited Bobby was to see his uncle on TV.
Apparently, they’d let him stay up late to watch.
Kate had even messaged reprimanding me for not letting her know I was going to be on TV.
My phone buzzed again. This message came up with no caller I.D.
I watched you on TV. You were fantastic! I just needed to tell you that. Hope you’re well.
Justin! I sat back, the breath leaving me in a whoosh.
I’d been telling the truth when I’d told Georgia I’d deleted his number and all the previous messages.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
It took away the temptation of being able to call him.
I’d worried that too many drinks one night might lead to a drunken call or a message I’d regret the next day.
But, it didn’t mean I didn’t recognize his number.
I stared at the phone re-reading the simple message.
Georgia had moved to the kitchen. I could hear her talking on her phone.
I fumbled with the keys, typing out a quick message before I could think better of it.
Thanks. I’m fine.
The minute where I stared at my phone, wondering if he’d respond, felt like hours.
He probably wouldn’t. After all, I’d only given him three words.
I should have said more. I could have at least asked how he was.
Was it too late to send that through as a separate question?
My phone chimed again as I considered it.
Good. I’m glad.
I was about to put my phone away, when another message came through, followed by a whole string in quick succession.
I miss you.
I know you don’t want to hear that.
And it doesn’t change anything.
And I’m truly sorry for everything that I handled in the wrong way.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I could have done so much better.
But I do. I miss you, Dean.
I screwed up the best thing that had happened to me for ages.
Tears pricked my eyes as I typed my response, too cut to the quick to not be completely honest.
I miss you too.
Then I waited. Georgia was still on the phone.
I could hear her chattering away. She was too far away for me to be able to work out what she was saying or who she was talking to.
Another message came through. It wasn’t from Justin.
Just another friend congratulating me on my performance.
I ignored it. I’d respond to it later. My eyes were still glued to the screen which held the record of the last few messages Justin and I had sent to each other.
The cursor would flash, indicating he was typing, then it would stop without a message coming through.
He’d obviously deleted whatever it was he’d been going to say.
It flashed again. The same thing happened.
He was obviously struggling with whatever it was he wanted to say. Finally, a message came through.
Dean, I still want to talk. Even if it’s just for closure. For both of us. I don’t feel like we ever got that. Can we talk? Is that possible? Please.
Can we talk? A simple enough question. Yet, it still felt so difficult to do. Like offering my heart up on a platter and letting someone stomp all over it. But, I couldn’t go on the way I had been. Georgia was right, I was miserable. I hadn’t so much as looked at another guy. I typed out a message.
I don’t know. When? Where?
The answer came through straight away.
My house. Tuesday night. Usual time. Will you come?
I took a sharp intake of breath. Of all the times and places, why would he suggest that?
Was he trying to twist the knife? What could possibly be going through his head to think that was the best suggestion?
But then did I really want to sit in a public place where anyone could listen in?
I didn’t have to say yes. I could suggest somewhere else.
But, that was as good as agreeing I’d definitely be there. I answered honestly.
I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t promise anything.