5. Adaline
The first day of a shoot is always the worst. The introductions, the formalities, thehandshakes, and names that I’ll forget after an hour of trying to make a mental map of the set.
Yeah… I hate these days.
Luckily, ”Forever and Always” has one of the smallest casts I’ve ever had the pleasureto work with. What made the nervous sweats start to back away was the fact that I’d worked with everyone before, too.
I starred alongside Nigel Baker, who played Harry’s dad, in a movie I did when I wastwenty, and even now, I can still feel the way my stomach was clenching from laughing too much at one of his outrageously funny dad jokes.
The girl who played Anastasia’s sister, Amber Westbrooke, I’d been friends withsince the first red carpet I attended on my own after leaving California. She found me hunched over in the bathroom, my hands flat against the marble sink, crying and shaking like a leaf caught in a gust of fall wind at how I hated being there.
Neither of us spent much time out of that bathroom. Instead, she sat down on the floorwith me, and we talked. I found out she was younger than me, barely eighteen when I’d just turned twenty. She listed off advice for me that I still carry around, all while begging I tell her where each element of my outfit came from.
I had a lot of time for Amber, and knowing she was on this shoot made those excitedfeelings I’d been searching for start to spike.
There was still the missing link of who was playing Harry’s brother, but I didn’t letthe unknown eat away at me too much.
And then… there was Nate. He and the undeniable feeling that I wasn’t meant to beon the way to the production lot were the only things making me second guess leaving the safety of the car I was in, wondering whether I could get away with staying curled up in the backseat.
Quickly getting off that train of thought, I shake my head, pulling my laptop from mybag in the hopes the distraction of drafting will take my mind off the fact that I’d rather lose every draft that existed in here than head to the lot, along with the reminders of a certain six-foot whatever man who broke my heart.
The only relaxing and quiet parts of the weeks since the signing have been my writingdays, truthfully. They always are. I’d call my assistant and have her cancel my plans for that day, so I could hibernate in my office and type away to my heart’s content.
Which was how I managed to officially finish book number twenty-four.
The only sad thing about ending a story is the fact that, besides Goldie, I had no oneto share my excitement with. Nate used to be the one I’d run to when I’d finished a book. I’d text him to meet me at the bus stop, and within the hour we’d be sitting on Sunfall Pier, the waves crashing over our feet as we sat right on the edge, reading my stories until the sun went down and the stars hung over the city of walking ones.
It was horrible, having all the excitement and pride bubble up inside of me, only forme to look around my office and realise that I didn’t have anyone to tell. No one I could ask if they wanted to read it. It’s gotten to the point now where I’m tired of feeling the sparks of excitement fade away, so tired that I’ve considered taking off the mask and revealing my borderline double life with the people around me.
Well, maybe just one person in particular.
“Want me to drop you here or round the back, Adaline?” My driver, Paulie, calls fromthe front seat, as he makes a turn onto Tenth Avenue.
“Just here would be great, Paulie, thank you,” I shout back to him, casting him aglance before sliding my laptop away. “Do you want anything while I’m in there?”
His deep-set eyes brightened. “If she’s got any of those Bakewell tarts, I’ll take two. My wife can”t get enough of them.”
I couldn’t help but mirror his whimsy smirk. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll meet you outback in ten.”
“See ya, Adaline.”
I tossed Paulie a wink before I slipped out of the car and peered up at the bakerybefore me. The bakery my best friend owns.The cursive letters pinned above the doorway reading ‘Flo’s’ always made me giddy,knowing what that girl had gone through, what she’d done to make her dreams come to life… my heart swelled with so much pride that I was convinced it’d burst before I even got to see her.
She only opened this place before the holidays, and already she has the entire city addicted to the sweettreats of her homeland. For me, though, I was forming a very serious relationship with her custard tarts.Egg custards, she calls them. But whatever they”re called, I felt a cosmic connection with them, much like the girl who made them.
As I shuffled my way past the stampede of commuters, speed-walking to their jobs tooquickly to recognise me, my gaze locked on the door that I knew would be locked, considering she didn’t open for another ten minutes. But seeing as though I’m here most mornings, she’ll be here to let me in any moment.
And like the thought of her conjured her up, I spot Florence through the glass door andmirror her overly enthusiastic wave as she sets down the tray of whatever she’d been baking since dawn and skips over to the door to let me in.Flo lets out a squeal as she pulls me into her chest, not minding the March breeze that skates through the open door. My arms wrap around her, my head resting on her shoulder as I take in the bakery.
She’s made this place beyond adorable. If Florence were to somehow turn into abuilding, I’m positive this is what it would look like. The lavender tiles that lined the back wall behind the counter were my favourite touch; the marble tables and the pastry case came a close second and third.
“Adddyyyyy, how are you?!” Flo asked as she unwrapped her arms from me, slidingher hands down to mine and squeezing them gently.
The mother of all sighs stumbled from my lips. “Tired… and desperately craving oneof your—” Flo let go of me suddenly, spinning on her heels and grabbing a plate that was sitting on the counter behind her.
“Custard tart?” she asked with a sweet grin, holding the plate under her chin.
My head bobbed to the side. “Have I ever told you I love you?”
“Many times. And I love you too. Now eat. Do you want a coffee?” She called, skipping back behind the counter.
“Are you sure? Do you need help with anything? Want me to—”
My words gethushed by the two girls who just walked out of the staffroom sporting cute frilly aprons with Flo’s embroidered in the corner, their giggles halting along with their steps when their eyes land on me.
“Fucking hell—” The one with the onyx bob and fringe gasps, a hint of an accent breaking through, before thegirl with the long chestnut hair and deep sun-kissed skin next to her elbows her side.
“Oh my God, you can’t curse in front of Adaline Moore, Cora. That’s so rude,” shewhispers, before turning her head to face me. “Sorry about this one, Adaline; she’s on her period; she’s not normally this profane—”
Cora elbows her back. “Rory!” Her pearly hands fly to her face, covering most of theredness that’s invaded her cheeks. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you just told Adaline Moore that I’m having my monthly moment. That’s it, I’m gonna go cry in the freezer.” she projects, her clear English accent, similar to Flo’s, penetrating her words as she lifts her hands.
Me and Flo both eyeball each other, trying to conceal our laughter, before myattention falls back on the pair. “No, no, it’s okay. Nice to meet you both!”
Rory gives Cora another elbow. “See, she’s cool.” She flips her shiny brown hair, scrunched like it was dusted with salt air, over hershoulder before eyeing me again. “Can I just say, while you’re here, I loved your Met Gala outfit last year. You totally nailed the theme. Oh, and we both loved—”
Flo spins to face the girls. “Right, okay, leave the A-lister alone; she’s very, very busy.Now, Rory, will you start by bringing out the Bakewell tarts and the lemon buns that are in the fridge.” Rory waves at me before doing a one-eighty into the kitchen. “And Cora, can you bring out the cash float in the back so I get you on the register?”
“No probs!” She gives a solid salute in Flo’s direction before heading into what Iassume is the office.
I note the sigh that slips from Flo as she faces me again. “They’re cute,”
A hazy smile lights up her face before she gets started on our coffees, taking thechance to steal a seat on one of the spinning stools by the breakfast bar. “They graduate high school in a few months, both starting Liberty Grove in autumn. Cora”s actually from the town where I grew up, just outside London. She”s an influencer of some kind, I forgot to ask her, but occasionally her security turns up—”
”Security?”
”Oh yeah,” she says over the steam eruption, swatting the fog away. ”She”s arguably more famous than you.”
”Huh,” I wondered, racking my brain to try and figure out who she was. I bet Goldie knew about her.
“Anyway,” Flo stole my attention back. ”They came to me a few weeks ago, asked if I had any part-time hours, and they said that they could stay on when they started college. I haven’t had any trouble with them, and they work really hard.” she spun back around with two perfectly crafted lattes, my eyes getting lost in the foam art heart. “Plus, they do crack some really funny jokes sometimes.”
I take a sip, swaying from side to side on the stool while peering up at her. “So they don’t run fan accounts dedicated to your boyfriend and ask you where he was born or where he likes to hang out on his own?” I have to hover my hand over my mouth, disguising the smile that I know Flo can still see.
“Don’t even go there. I’m not over it yet.” Her face turns to stone, but I still clockwhen the corners of her mouth twinge the more she looks at me. “Do you want this tart or not?”
“Of course I do.” I plead while batting my eyes at her. She considers it for a second ortwo, the plate hanging from her hands, before she eventually slides it across the marble bar. “You treat me so well.” I hum, lining up and sinking the sweet filling into my mouth. I wipe away what crumbs I can before I ask, “How’s business?”
Flo rounds the counter before claiming the stool next to me, sitting down with a happysigh. “So much better than I could have imagined. It’s getting to the point now where I’m selling out of everything before mid-afternoon. I think it’s because of the area. We get so many commuters in the morning, all the tourists by noon, and any and all foot traffic the rest of the day.”
“It’s not the location. It’s you and your magic recipes.” I take another bite of thepastry, my tongue swiping the custard that didn’t make it in my mouth. “Face it, Flo, you’re an icon now. Like Lady Liberty, if she were British, and… not green.”
She swings her head around and dashes me with a smile. “You sure do have a waywith words, you know; you should be a writer.”
Oh, irony, you cruel, cruel mistress, I’ll get you back for this.
Unapologetically, I spent most of my free time with this girl, telling her about what Ido in the other hours of the day that don’t involve us cackling like pretty hyaenas in my apartment or staying after hours at her bakery to clean made sense. And it’s Flo, for crying out loud. It’s not as if she’ll laugh in my face when I confess that I want to be a writer, rather than an actress. I could almost guarantee she would pester me to read every single word I’d written and smile while she did.
Screw it, I need to tell her.
I set the pastry back down on the plate, swatting away the crumbs that had fallen ontomy jeans. “Ha, yeah. Um, funny you should mention that—”
“Aurora!! I need help!”
The cry from Cora halts my confession, stealing both mine and Flo’s attention andplacing it on the commotion coming from the office.
Not a second later, Rory, or Aurora, I suppose, comes bursting out of the kitchen, her head nodding to whereCora”s cry came from, her eyes trained on us. “You know, one of these days she”ll count up the floats right on the first try.” After a shake of her head, she jogs towards the office. “Was it the quarters again?”
“THEY LOOK LIKE TEN P’s. WHY THE HELL ARE THEY WORTHTWENTY-FIVE?!”
Once Rory was in the office, I turned my head to Flo, a mask of sympathy and delightcovering her face as she said, “She’s got a point. It took me ages to get used to these things.” My mouth curled into a smile, the parting of my lips triggering the memory of what I was about to confess—
“So, how are we feeling about today, seeing… you know who?” she asks, cupping theceramic mug in her hands and batting her lashes at me.
My eyes roll. “You can say his name, you know? It’s not like I’ll burst into flames ifyou mention him. He’s your friend too, and your boyfriend’s best friend. He and I are fine. Hunky-dory, as you say.” She narrows her eyes at me, morphing from innocent to judgey. “We’re professionals.”
“Who is?” she asks, taking a sip of coffee.
“What?”
“Who is professional?”
“I just told you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
I huffed a laugh, but there was nothing humorous about it. “You know who I mean,Flo.”
Tilting her apple-like cheeks to the ceiling, that disappointed-looking smile that isn’treally a smile touches her lips, before those green globes connect with my fiery ones.“You can’t even say his name, Addy. That’s not professional; it’s worrying.” I dragmy eyes to the marble, the swirls of white and grey distracting me from what Iprobably need to hear. “Especially since you won’t tell me what even happened between you two to end up this way.”
Her cup chimes as she rests it against the marble, forcing my eyes back to her. “I’mjust saying, it’s a long shoot, longer than Defenders was. I don’t know what went on between you, but maybe, I don’t know… Maybe it’s time you both resolved whatever it was. Being angsty with each other will only heal that hurt part of you temporarily. It’s like putting a band-aid on a broken leg, hoping that somehow the hurt will just disappear with no real effort to treat it.”
I felt her lift her hand and rest it on the crown of my head, smoothing out the frizz thathad likely happened thanks to the wind.
“Sooner or later, you’ll both have to face up to what caused your feud in the firstplace, but the longer you leave it Add’s, the more damage you’ll have to fix.”
The thing I loved most about Florence, besides her baking skills, was that she lovedthe people who loved her with such gentle intensity that I wondered how I’d survived twenty-five years on this planet without her by my side. If you showed her you cared, she’d care back with triple the force. Compliment her; she’ll send you a thank you card and flowers with same-day delivery. She was such a beautiful soul, and the thing about souls like hers was that lying just wasn’t something they considered a good way to spend their time.
Which is why every word that just left her balmed lips, was nothing but the truth.
As much as it felt like a punch in the gut to admit, she was right. That comfortablesilence we existed in was bound to get old soon. But the thing was, even if I wanted to resolve things with Nate, even if I approached him first and told him I wanted us to go back to the way we used to be. I knew for a fact that he wasn’t interested in anything of the sort.
Or at least that’s what I’d tried to tell myself after watching him scribble his signatureonto that contract all those weeks ago. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“I know,” I muttered, my words hitting the marble since my head had dipped back toface it, before finding the strength to reach her eyes again. “Thank you… for that.”
She grabbed my hand, softly brushing her thumb over my skin with a gentle smile,while I felt an innocent smirk lift in the corner of my mouth. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a writer? Because that sounded scripted. You just came up with that?”
She squeezed my hand and nodded before letting go and sliding off the stool, makinga beeline for the front door. “I don’t think this line of hangry people would appreciate it if I told them I was closing to pursue a writing career.” The lock twisted under Flo’s hand, the people on the other side, lining around what I knew was the whole block, practically buzzed with excitement. You could see it in their smiles.
Flo flicked her head to me. “Call me… if today gets too…”
“I know… I will.” I assured her, holding her emerald stare.
“Want to use the fire exit out back?” she asked, nodding her chin towards the back ofthe bakery.
I nod, spinning around on the stool and slipping my hightops onto the floor. “Are yousure I can’t stay here—”
“Save the dramatics for the cameras.” she pleaded, gripping the door handle, ready tolet half the city inside. “Now go, let me feed the masses in peace. Rory! Cora! It’s go time!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Have a good day, Add’s.”
“Love you!” I called back, my feet readying to jog toward the exit, but not beforesneaking around the counter and stealing two perfectly iced Bakewell tarts from the tray and running to the back before Flo scolded me.