Chapter Twelve
“She’ll have to sign an NDA. I’ll email you one over now.”
Had Helen not listened to a single word Amelia had said in the last five minutes?
If there was anyone who did not need to sign an NDA, it was Imogen.
She had zero interest in speaking to anyone about dating Amelia.
She was already uncomfortable enough about the fact that Amelia had to disclose it to Helen.
She understood it. Didn’t mean she liked it. “There’s no need for that.”
Helen’s sigh sounded through the phone. “Are you trying to make my life difficult, Amelia? Or your own? You were always so low-maintenance before.”
Easily handled was what Helen was trying to say.
Never rocked the boat. Did what she was told without question—yeah, that was Amelia.
But not this time. It wasn’t that she wanted to cause any problems for anyone, but the celebrity side of things was hard enough for Imogen to deal with without throwing legal paperwork into the equation.
Amelia was determined to keep things as normal as she possibly could.
“And I still am. As is Imogen. She’s not going to sell her story to TMZ, believe me. ”
After a few seconds of silence, Helen sighed again. “Fine. But I hope you know what you’re doing. It’s your image at stake.”
“Which you’ll continue to protect if anything goes wrong, right?” Amelia didn’t see why it would, but it wasn’t like she wanted to throw her career down the toilet either. She just wanted to date a woman she was totally into without a contract or a circus.
“Yes, of course, but it’s more fun when I can sue people,” Helen replied seriously.
Like suing people was a regular occurrence or a hobby.
Maybe for Helen it was. “I’ve got your back, Amelia.
There are just easier ways of doing things—that’s all.
If you change your mind about the NDA, you can let me know.
In the meantime, the fact that you’re keeping your relationship under the radar gives us a little time to formulate a plan in case you do decide to go public.
If that does happen, I would also advise you to prepare Ms. King for the eventuality of her social media history rearing its head. Because it most definitely will.”
“You know, I wouldn’t call it a relationship.
I don’t think we’re quite there yet.” The truth was, they hadn’t put any labels on what they were doing.
Not that Amelia wanted to date anyone else, and she was pretty sure Imogen didn’t either.
But it had been difficult enough to convince Imogen to date her again, without proposing a full-blown relationship. Baby steps.
“That’s a conversation for your therapist.”
Amelia laughed at Helen’s dry delivery. Though knowing Helen, she was probably smirking at her computer screen. “Okay, I’ll spare you the details.” She wondered if Helen had friends she did girl talk with. If she ever let her hair down. Or if professional and efficient was her entire personality.
“Do. And for the love of God, would you give Veronica an answer about that damn action movie? She keeps calling me to see if I’ve spoken to you. It’s driving me up the wall.”
“I love it when my team works harmoniously together,” Amelia said sweetly as Helen scoffed down the line.
She had admittedly been dodging Veronica’s calls.
Mainly because she still didn’t have a definitive answer for her.
Amelia already had her heart set on taking a break after Always the Bridesmaid wrapped—maybe even hanging around Ireland for a bit longer, for obvious reasons.
But Amelia had always said that she would love the opportunity to tackle a different genre, and those opportunities didn’t come around too often.
It was way too easy to get typecast in the industry. “Do you think I should do the movie?”
“Yes.”
Amelia grinned. She should probably add blunt to professional and efficient. “I’ll get back to Veronica soon.” Maybe she could take another look at the script between shoots today. Try to picture herself in the role. Visualisation usually helped when she was deciding on projects.
After ending the call with Helen, Amelia breathed a sigh of relief.
She had been dreading that conversation, but Helen hadn’t pushed her too hard.
It had been necessary to keep Helen in the loop about Imogen and her.
Especially now that they were going to be spending even more time together—as much time as Amelia’s schedule and Imogen’s shifts at the bar allowed.
It had been three days since the Night of the Storm, as Amelia had titled it—capitalised letters and all.
Like the title of an act in a play. Her whole relationship with Imogen seemed to unfold in different acts.
The Wish in the Well. The Girl in the Bar.
The Secret. The Hike. The Big Reveal. The Night of the Storm.
In Amelia’s experience, most relationships weren’t important enough to warrant acts.
She hadn’t met Imogen for no reason, that was for sure.
Amelia was a firm believer that some things were meant to be, and that was how she felt about Imogen.
Whether they were meant to be forever or for right now?
That was yet to be seen. But she could hope.
Amelia had woken up after the Night of the Storm with a jolt of fear. Only because waking up in Imogen’s bed, with Imogen’s arm draped around her waist, had made her feel dangerously happy. What if Imogen had woken regretting their magical night together?
But she hadn’t. Quite the opposite had happened.
They had spent the early hours of the morning together in post-coital bliss.
Curled up in each other’s arms. Having coffee together—thankfully, the electricity had been restored at some point during the night.
Stealing as many kisses as possible. Amelia had even slipped back into Imogen’s clothes, even though hers had dried on the radiator overnight.
They had lost track of time so completely that Imogen had to break a few speed limits to get Amelia back to the hotel in time before the studio picked her up for filming.
God love the hair and makeup team that morning—Amelia had only had about three hours’ sleep.
What had surprised Amelia the most was that Imogen had been the one to instigate their next date—for that very same day.
Fast-forward three days, and Amelia hadn’t slept at the hotel since.
No matter what time she finished filming, Imogen came to pick her up, they ate dinner together, then fell into bed tangled up in each other. So far, private dating was good.
Amelia was halfway through texting Imogen about her conversation with Helen when her trailer door was flung open.
“Gina needs you on set.”
Who else would make such an entrance but Bridget?
“Be there in a sec,” Amelia replied without looking up from her phone. Just because Bridget had decided it was okay to barge into her personal space didn’t mean Amelia had to immediately drop what she was doing.
She finished typing the message and looked up to find Bridget staring at her with her hand on her hip. Then she squinted at her. “You’re having sex.”
“Not right now I’m not, no.” Amelia mentally high-fived herself for not balking at Bridget’s statement, even though inside she was screaming. How on earth could she tell?
Amelia could swear there was a ghost of a smile on Bridget’s lips. Barely visible, but definitely there. Was she happy for her? Or happy she was right? She looked happy about something anyway. “The friend?” Bridget asked knowingly.
“Not only a friend after all,” Amelia confirmed. What was the point in lying? Whatever her intentions were, Bridget had managed to suss her out. Denying it would be a waste of time.
“I slept with Gabe.” With that, Bridget turned and headed back out the door like she had just dropped a bomb and calmly walked away from it. “You coming?”
Amelia’s head spun. She pushed herself off the sofa with both hands and hurried out after her. “What do you mean you slept with Gabe? And why are you telling me?”
Bridget did that bored look she did. She was a master at it. “You told me something, so I told you something. That’s how it works.”
How what works? Baffled, Amelia fell into step beside her as they made their way along the gravel path to set. “Was it good? Gabe’s a really nice guy. Do you like him?”
“God no,” Bridget said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “He’s a puppy.”
Were puppies bad? Amelia loved puppies. “Then why did you sleep with him?”
Bridget looked at her like she was some naive little kid. “Because he was there, and it passed the time, and he has good abs. Why did you sleep with your friend?”
“Because I’m in love with her.” Amelia clapped both hands over her mouth because where the hell had that come from? And why had she just confessed it, to Bridget of all people?
For once, Bridget looked surprised too. “Huh.”
“I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”
“I can tell,” Bridget said, her amused expression falling back into place. “Is that how you told her too? Like you were about to have a panic attack?”
“No. I haven’t told her.” Amelia hadn’t even told herself until that moment. But the more she turned it over in her head, the more she realised it was true. She loved Imogen.
“You really are more interesting than I gave you credit for,” Bridget said, shaking her head. “Imagine telling me before telling her.”
Amelia groaned. “Can we go back to talking about Gabe?”
“He sings in the shower. It’s annoying. Back to you. Does your friend feel the same way about you?” Bridget wasn’t going to let this go. It was like Amelia had dangled a carrot and she had latched onto it with her razor-sharp teeth.