Chapter Nine #2
Imogen wrote down the number nineteen on her stock sheet and turned back around. “Was she nice when you guys met her at the open day?” It was only polite to show a little interest.
“We didn’t get to meet her,” Niamh said. She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “I don’t think she was there.”
“She wasn’t there,” Piper mumbled while staring down at her phone. “I would have been drawn to her like a moth to a flame if she had been.”
“That’s a shame,” Imogen said as she moved onto the next item on her stock sheet. “I know you guys are big fans.”
“An understatement,” Niamh said. “If I was a teenager, I’d have her posters plastered all over my bedroom wall.”
Imogen chuckled. “She’s that good, huh?”
“Seriously, Imogen. You’ve no idea. Piper, are you on her Instagram?”
“I am,” Piper said, squinting down at the screen. “There’s nothing about her being in Ballyluck. But there’s loads of photos of Ireland. She seems to like it here, judging by her posts.”
“Show Imogen a photo of her,” Niamh said.
Imogen refrained from rolling her eyes. They both knew that she wasn’t in the habit of drooling over air-brushed celebrities, but they were both so excited she would humour them anyway. “Let’s see then.”
Piper turned the phone around and when she did, Imogen’s heart felt like it stopped beating.
It was one of those very rare times in life when everything started to feel like it was moving in slow motion.
Imogen blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, and when she confirmed that she wasn’t, her blood turned ice cold. What the fuck?
“Didn’t I tell you she was gorgeous?” Niamh said dreamily, mistaking Imogen’s silence for appreciation rather than the stone-cold shock that it was.
“Um.” Imogen couldn’t manage to get any proper words out in that moment—they wouldn’t squeeze past the sick feeling in the back of her throat.
Piper turned the phone back around to herself.
“She’s amazing. I can’t believe she was in Ballyluck and Rory and Jonathan saw her.
Why didn’t I go for a walk and see her? Now I’m going to regret my own laziness for the rest of my life.
” She bumped Imogen’s shoulder. “I’m coming walking with you every morning from now on, Immy. ”
Imogen swallowed, still unsure of what to say.
“Immy?” Piper glanced at her, turning concerned. “Why are you not talking? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, you’ve gone a bit pale,” Niamh added, taking a couple of steps toward her. “What’s wrong? Do you need to sit down or something?” She put her arm gently around Imogen’s back.
“I’m fine,” Imogen managed. She cleared her throat. “Hey, can I see that picture again?” Not that she was in any doubt whatsoever about who it was. Imogen would recognise those green eyes and that perfect smile anywhere—and they didn’t require airbrushing.
Piper looked confused but turned the phone back around.
Imogen studied it again. “Are there any more?” It was funny how the human mind worked whenever you really didn’t want to believe something. The evidence was right there in front of her. It was unmistakable. But Imogen needed more in order for it to fully sink in.
Piper scrolled through another few pictures, each one reconfirming what Imogen already knew. “What is it?” Piper asked.
Imogen finally let out a sigh of resignation. “It’s Amy.”
“Amy? What about Amy? Is she in the picture too?” Piper turned the phone back around to look again, but she wasn’t going to see anyone else because there wasn’t anyone else.
“She is the picture,” Imogen said.
“She…” Piper’s eyes suddenly went so wide, Imogen feared they might pop right out of her head. “Amy is Amelia Whitlock? Amelia Whitlock is Amy? Your Amy?”
“Apparently so.” How could she have been so stupid?
Seriously? It wasn’t even that surprising when she stopped to really think about it.
Amy—sorry, Amelia—constantly looked like she had stepped right out of a magazine.
She was only in Ireland because of the goddamn film.
Yeah okay, Imogen knew that she worked in the industry, but Amy had never actually told her exactly what she did.
Not really. All she had given was some wishy-washy explanation that Imogen had naively lapped up and deciphered how she’d wanted to.
Maybe she’d heard what she had wanted to hear. And how wrong she’d been.
Come to think of it, Amy had always dodged the topic of her work when they got onto it.
That should have been a sign right there.
And then there were the fancy cars. The expensive hotel she was staying at for months.
The long-ass workdays where she was totally out of reach.
Jesus, it was so obvious when Imogen turned it all over in her head.
And come to think of it, she’d seen Rory and Jonathan the morning she met Amy for their first date.
She’d bet that’s when Rory and Jonathan had seen Amy too—they’d been deep in discussion when Imogen had passed them.
When she looked up Piper and Niamh were both staring at her like she had just informed them that she was secretly a billionaire. With a mixture of awe and blatant shock.
“You’ve been dating Amelia Whitlock?” Niamh said slowly, like she was also trying to take it in.
Imogen nodded. “It would seem that I have been. Yes.”
“And you didn’t know?” Piper asked in utter amazement.
“Nope. Hadn’t a clue.” The joke really was on her, wasn’t it?
Niamh started to frown. “And she didn’t tell you?” she asked, anger creeping into her tone. Which Imogen appreciated, because, no, Amy had not fucking told her that she was Amelia Whitlock, very well-known actress—to most people, anyway.
“No, she didn’t.” Rather than anger, disappointment settled into Imogen’s chest. Amy had been hiding the truth from her all along.
And Imogen had fallen for it—God, she was probably a complete laughing stock.
Was this what Amy did? Roll into different places and deceive unwitting women?
Pretend she was someone else, and date them for a while to entertain herself while she was in town?
Then disappear back to her glamourous life without a care in the world?
It seemed a bit far-fetched for the woman she knew, but then again, Imogen didn’t really know Amy at all, did she?
“Well, that’s incredibly shitty,” Niamh said in disgust. Then she looked at Imogen and softened. “Are you okay? What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean what’s she going to do?” Piper asked, perplexed. “She’s dating Amelia Whitlock. Immy might just be the luckiest person in the world.”
“She lied to her, Piper. It doesn’t matter who she is if she’s a liar.”
“I mean, doesn’t it?” Piper lifted her eyebrows. “We’re talking about Amelia Whitlock here, Niamh.”
Niamh glared at her. “No, we’re talking about our best friend Imogen here, Piper. Who has just been led up the garden path by someone totally dishonest.”
“You’re right,” Piper said, holding her hands up and relenting immediately. “I’m sorry, Immy. I got a bit carried away for a minute.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think there’s a manual for how to handle your best friend unknowingly dating a Hollywood star.”
Piper grimaced. “And it’s only just dawned on me now that that’s basically your worst nightmare.”
Imogen let out a humourless laugh. “It’s up there, yep.”
The door to the pub opened and they all looked around.
Imogen’s stomach dropped.
As if her day hadn’t turned surreal enough, there she was in the doorway of the Wishing Well, rain clinging to the shoulders of her coat. Amy. Or, should she say, Amelia Whitlock. Hollywood star. Liar.
For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Amy froze when their eyes met, her expression caught somewhere between fear and regret, and they just stared at each other across the empty bar.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” Piper whispered beside her—sentiments which mirrored Imogen’s own thoughts exactly.
Then Amy approached the bar slowly, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Imogen said quietly. Looking at her now, Imogen couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it sooner.
Amy had always carried herself differently.
Even standing in the doorway looking nervous as hell, she drew every inch of attention in the room.
She had the very first day she walked into the Wishing Well too.
Imogen hated that her heart still fluttered at the sight of her despite knowing what she knew now. But in her defence, she had only found out five minutes ago. Her heart might take a bit longer to catch up with everything else.
Amy worried her lip before she spoke. “I came here because I had to tell you something, but from the look you’re giving me right now, I think I might be too late.”
“Too late for what, Amelia?” Imogen managed to reply without her voice shaking. The steadiness of it surprised even her given how rattled she felt.
“Yeah. I am too late,” Amy said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. She looked down at her feet, then back up at Imogen. “Can we talk for a minute? I’d really like a chance to explain if you’ll let me.”
“Oh, I really think you should,” Imogen said.
Amy most certainly owed her that much. “Come on.” Ignoring the astonished faces of Piper and Niamh, she walked around the bar.
If the situation wasn’t so dire, Imogen might have stopped to laugh at the pair of them, but now wasn’t the time.
She led Amy over to a booth in the far corner so they could have a bit of privacy.
At least one of the perks of running an unsuccessful pub was that this time there weren’t any witnesses to her latest personal humiliation.
“I’m so sorry,” Amy said before she even sat down. “Imogen, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Oh, come on. How can you not mean to lie to someone about who you are, Amy? Or is it Amelia? What do I even call you now?”