Chapter 14
Fourteen
EILIDH
Present day
Last week the cast and crew of Young Adult held a wrap party at a London hotel. I hadn’t wanted to attend because I didn’t feel welcome by the cast, but the showrunner insisted I celebrate my part in making the show successful.
It was a mistake. Not all the cast were arseholes to me. In fact, most of them weren’t. They understood that I wasn’t just giving up the show. I was giving up my career, and if I was doing that, then this is what I needed. I was grateful to them.
I was devastated that Jasper wasn’t one of them. That my friend who had experienced the craziness of obscurity to instant fame right along with me was acting like a spoiled, entitled, petulant stranger.
He wouldn’t look at me at the party, wouldn’t talk to or acknowledge me. It had been like this on set, but luckily the antagonism had translated well to the screen.
The night before last, I’d returned to my flat to find the door already open and Jasper lounging drunkenly on my sofa.
“What are you doing here?” I’d asked, wary of that nasty look in his eyes.
He’d stood up, wobbling unsteadily as he threw keys at me. I ducked just before they hit my face. “What the fuck?” I cried angrily.
“Just returning your keysh,” he slurred. “Don’t need them no more.”
“Fine. Get out.”
“I protected you!” Jasper yelled, tears filling his eyes.
“Anytime you needed me, I protected you and thish is how you repays me?” He swayed, somehow managing to glare and blink rapidly at the same time.
“I have nothing without thish show. Wesht End. Thatsh all the offers I’m getting. Fucking Wesht End.”
“Then you should take the offers,” I replied. “Those are good offers. And the other jobs will come in. It just takes time. But I won’t apologize again for choosing to leave. If you were any friend, you’d understand that.”
“I undershtand shit.” He spat at me as he stumbled past. “I undershtand that the pershon I need to get through all thish shit is abandoning me.”
“Jasper, I will never abandon you. I’m always here.”
“Fuck that. You’re already gone.” He slammed out of my flat before I could stop him.
Diana and I spoke about Jasper’s reaction.
She’d made me see the narcissism in his response.
Deciding I didn’t need anyone making me feel bad about myself when I’d been working so hard for the past nine months to love myself again, I hadn’t gone after him.
Maybe it was selfish. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that Jasper was acting even more selfishly.
It was March. I had no jobs lined up. Last month, I’d announced my retirement on social media.
Or at least my team had. I didn’t look at the comments.
My team would take care of my socials until Young Adult aired and then I could delete myself from all those platforms. The thought filled me with overwhelming relief.
Yes, there was this deep-seated fear that I’d never reach the same success in life again (the pressure of having reached the pinnacle of success in my early twenties was not lost on me), but I felt mostly relief.
I knew I wouldn’t automatically become some anonymous person.
Yet over time, I had hope that most people would forget me.
That I could walk down the street without being recognized or stalked by paparazzi.
Grabbing my laptop, I settled at the dining table and opened my screenplay.
I’d finished writing two episodes of the TV show inspired by Ardnoch Estate.
I could send it to my agent, but I still didn’t feel confident enough in it.
Uncle Brodan had dabbled in screenwriting—I could share it with him.
But there was someone else I’d thought about sending it to.
Theo Cavendish.
He was Mum’s friend Sarah’s husband. Sarah was a famous crime fiction writer who had worked at the estate as a housekeeper all the while making millions off her independently published crime series.
She eventually left Ardnoch to start living her life as a writer out in the open.
Theo was a well-known and respected screenwriter and producer and an estate member.
He and Sarah had fallen in love while adapting her series for screen.
They were not the most obvious pairing. Sarah had always been a shy, quiet woman, and Theo was this intimidating, scorchingly hot aristocratic playboy. Yet I’d never seen a man more in love.
He was still intimidating, though.
But he was honest and I respected him.
If he thought my screenplay was good, then it would buoy my confidence.
I could email him, but it might be better to talk to him face-to-face. Which I could do now, since I was home.
But I needed time.
I needed patience with myself. Just some time to … merely be. And yes, I knew I was privileged to take that time. Most people had to keep working through life and its struggles. Most people also hadn’t experienced the amount of international pressure I’d dealt with.
I needed time to enjoy writing, enjoy my family, without all that other stuff clouding my mind.
Ultimately, I’d decided to give up London.
Ardnoch was where I wanted to be, so I didn’t sign another rental agreement on my flat.
My landlord Peter practically begged me to stay and offered me a longer term of rent control.
I’d thanked him but packed up all my belongings.
Most of it was in storage while I moved back into my childhood home.
The sea breeze fluttered over me as I rested my arms against the balcony railing on the deck of my parents’ house.
Being home was all about fresh starts. With everyone.
Mum and Dad had redecorated the annex knowing I was coming home, and I was bravely facing my fears of the space.
Last night was my first night in the detached guest suite, and it took me a while to fall asleep.
But I was determined to persevere. The guest annex allowed me to be near my family while still providing some privacy.
Of course, I could get my own place now that I was home, but I wasn’t ready to do that either.
They’d even set up a desk for me so I could write. Once I told them what my aspirations were, they threw themselves into supporting me. Not only was there a desk but there were notepads and a cork pin board above the desk with pins and empty note cards all ready for my thoughts and ideas.
An ache moved through me as I stared out at the North Sea. Years. I’d kept myself from them for years. No wonder I’d been miserable. I’d separated myself from the people who made me whole.
Yet despite our reunion, there was still an emptiness in me.
It had a name.
Fyfe Moray.
His warm dark eyes filled my mind and I flushed, remembering the last time we were together.
I’d avoided my brother’s best friend for six months.
Ever since he kissed me at Lewis and Callie’s wedding and then blamed it on alcohol again.
Fyfe had tried calling. For weeks and weeks.
About six weeks in, he gave up. He sent me a text promising he’d leave me alone and reiterating how sorry he was.
Ignoring Fyfe wasn’t part of my new approach to life. No, avoiding him was temporary. I needed to deal with all this other stuff first and fully intended to have a serious discussion with him upon my return home.
I knew Fyfe was terrified of commitment.
I also knew we were drawn together. That there was a connection between us neither could deny.
And I was done denying it. I was going to admit my feelings to Fyfe.
Either he’d reciprocate and together we’d deal with how that affected Lewis …
or he’d reject me. The latter would hurt like a motherfucker.
But I’d have my answer and I could move on.
I was done with being dishonest with myself and others.
Butterflies erupted in my belly as I pushed away from the balcony and turned to open the sliding doors to the living room. Stepping inside, I shut it behind me and locked up. Mor was at school, Mum was at the childcare center she ran, and Dad was at his office in Inverness.
The house was empty, but their warmth still lingered.
Mor had asked me a question about the William Shakespeare project she was doing for English, and I’d helped her with it over breakfast. She’d hugged me before she left for school and it had felt wonderful.
Mum had fluttered around us all, multitasking like a boss, taking care of us even as she readied herself for work.
Between helping Mor, I’d watched her and Dad in the kitchen.
She stopped what she was doing to tie his tie for him and then he’d handed her a coffee as she offered him a plate of scrambled eggs on toast. Afterward, he’d taken both their plates to wash them and urged her out of the kitchen to finish getting ready for the day.
Before Dad left for work, because he thought Mor and I were preoccupied, he’d kissed Mum thoroughly. When she was flushed and smiling, dimples appearing, he dropped a tender kiss on the tip of her nose and just stared at her for a few seconds. Like she was a miracle.
After all these years.
I’d returned my focus to Mor because I was afraid I might burst into tears. Ones of happiness for my parents. Maybe ones of sadness and longing for myself.
I think because … I knew what the outcome of my quest would be today.
And I still intended to do it.
Fyfe was not at home.
I tried calling him, but it rang out so I called Lewis instead.
“He’s at my place,” my brother told me. “There’s some new security system he wants to install. We told him the one we have is good enough, but ever since those guys broke in without him knowing, he’s paranoid.”