Chapter Seventeen #2
“Of course. I don’t want to stop acting or take a step back or anything. I just want to be here when I’m not working. And I was thinking that maybe there will be more roles available around this part of the world.”
Veronica considered it. “There are a lot of movies shot in Ireland these days. And there’s always work in London.”
Amelia gave an enthusiastic nod. “Yes, I’d be interested in looking at those. You think you can make that happen?”
“Darling, have you met me? I can get you work anywhere.” Veronica looked smug for all of two seconds before starting to type again.
“Amazing. Helen? Can we make it work from your end?”
“Well, of course. I can make anything work. But if you think I’m coming over there to visit you in that horrible weather, you can think again.” Helen shuddered. “If we schedule in-person meetings, you can come to me.”
Amelia grinned. “Are you sure? I hear the summers can be quite pleasant here.”
“I’ll live it through your Insta.”
Amelia laughed outright. “I’ll be keeping my place in LA to use as my base when I’m working back home. You’ll still see my face plenty.”
“A joy I’ll anticipate with bated breath.”
Amelia felt a million times lighter after finishing up the conversation.
It had been an idea floating around her mind for a while, since she and Imogen started spending all their free time together.
Though she hadn’t discussed it with Imogen yet.
Maybe it was too soon. But it didn’t feel like it was.
She and Imogen were in a really good place.
And if things were this good, why waste any time?
Amelia was sprawled across her soft white couch, trying to figure out the best time to bring it up with Imogen, when her trailer door burst open. She didn’t need to look around to know who it was. “Hey, Bridget.”
“It’s fucking freezing out there. Baltic, isn’t that the term they use here?” Bridget strode in and pointed at Amelia’s legs. “Are you going to move and let me sit down or do I have to stand?”
The standing thing was tempting, but Amelia reluctantly swung her legs down, pushing herself into a sitting position. “Look at you getting to grips with the local lingo.”
“What can I say? I’m impressive.” Bridget elegantly sat down beside Amelia and went straight onto her phone. She probably never slumped onto chairs. Not with eyewitnesses anyway.
Amelia waited a good three minutes for Bridget to look up from her phone and speak. But it didn’t happen. “Did you come here for any particular reason, or…?”
“Nope.” Bridget remained engrossed in her phone. Amelia blatantly stared at her until she noticed and looked at her. “What?”
“Couldn’t you doomscroll in your own trailer?”
“Do you really think I spend my time mindlessly scrolling like everyone else?” Bridget shook her hair out. “I’m reading a script for a new role I’ve been asked to do. When I say asked, I mean begged.”
Amelia was actually curious about what Bridget was doing next. “Oh yeah? Anything good?”
“They want me to play a villain. I initially said no. But my agent insists it could be a good move. I think he even used the word fun.” Bridget spat out the word fun like it was choking her.
Amelia almost laughed. “I think it could be kinda cool to play a villain. Imagine how bad you’d get to be, and it would be totally acceptable.”
Bridget glared at her. “Do you want it?”
“Nah. I’m going to save the world after this.”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course you are. I’m not even surprised that they offer you the nice parts. You have to have gall to be a villain.”
Ah, now Amelia had no gall. Gotta love a Bridget compliment.
And she was still going. “And playing a villain takes so much more artistic brilliance than playing the good guy. Anyone can play the likeable part—it’s designed specifically for the viewers to root for them. But to play evil and nail it—that takes real skill.”
“You sound like you’re already onboard,” Amelia said.
“Hmm. I suppose the director of this Don’t Cross Her is known to be a genius.”
Amelia almost jumped up off her seat. “Don’t Cross Her?”
“Is that not what I just said? You know that I hate to repeat myself, Amelia.” Bridget eyed her. “Why do you look like you just sat down on some anal beads?”
“Vivid,” Amelia said, then shook away the image. “And because I’m doing Don’t Cross Her. The nice part.” She framed her face with her hands and smiled.
Bridget stared for a few beats, then smiled slowly. “Huh. Maybe it could be fun. I’d get to kick your ass.”
Amelia clapped her hands together. “And I’d get to kill you in the end.”
“Oh goody.”
“Let’s face it, I’ve been dying to kill you ever since you put that photo out.” It was a joke with a jag and Bridget knew it.
“But look how it all turned out. Admit it, it was a good move.”
“It was not,” Amelia said defiantly. “It was sneaky and unnecessary and almost cost me the love of my life.”
Bridget did her trademark bored look. “Whatever. I’m still taking credit for your little love fest whether you’re big enough to admit it or not. Speaking of, how is Ingrid?”
Amelia narrowed her eyes. At this point, she was convinced Bridget had googled names beginning with “I” just to annoy her. “Stop fucking with me. You couldn’t even keep a straight face that time.” Friends or not, Bridget enjoyed messing with her.
“Imogen,” Bridget corrected herself like it strained her.
Amelia gave a satisfied smile. “She’s fine. I’m going back to the Wishing Well after we finish shooting. Where I’ll stare at her with hearts in my eyes while she looks sexy serving drinks before we spend the rest of the night wrapped up in her bed.”
Bridget screwed her face up. “You know you overshare now? I think I liked you better when you barely spoke.”
Amelia nudged her. “You wanted a best friend, Bridgey Bridge. You got one.”
“Never call me that again.” She paused. “Maybe I’ll come with you to this Wishing Well place. See what all the fuss is about.”
“Why not? You come with me everywhere else.” Trailers. New movies. It seemed that Amelia and Bridget were going to be joined at the hip for a while longer. “You’re not coming to bed with us though.”
Bridget looked astounded. “Like you would ever be so lucky.” She stood abruptly and strode toward the door.
“Besides, I’m seeing Gabe tonight. But I’ll come for a drink.
God help me, I’ll need it to tolerate his shower singing.
” In true Bridget fashion, she disappeared out the door without another word.
Amelia could only chuckle. When she started Always the Bridesmaid, never in her life did she think that she could ever be anything that even resembled friends with Bridget Clemonte.
But there she was, growing increasingly fond of Bridget by the day, and genuinely pleased they were still going to be working together after this.
Life had a funny way of surprising you. Especially here.
Amelia only came to Ireland for a movie.
She’d expected to fall in love with the place.
With the scenery. The culture. She never expected to stumble across Ballyluck, fall hopelessly in love with a guarded woman behind the bar at the Wishing Well, or start imagining a future that stretched far beyond filming schedules and flights home.
Turns out the real love story hadn’t been in the script after all.
It had been waiting for her here. Her wish come true.
“That’s another booking for five o’clock. Six people,” Imogen called out after she set the phone down. She wrote it on the pad anyway, but they liked to keep each other in the loop.
Piper puffed her cheeks out and blew out a breath. “It’s gonna be busy. Again.”
“Busy?” Niamh looked shell-shocked. “I was up and down like a fiddler’s elbow last night. It’s been hectic all week.”
“Get used to it. We’ve got a celeb in our midst now,” Piper said.
“No. Amy doesn’t show up here until way later on in the evenings. She doesn’t want to distract me.” Which she most definitely would. Imogen couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Amy at the best of times.
“I wasn’t talking about Amelia,” Piper replied. Imogen had told them several times that they were welcome to call her Amy too, but to them she was still Amelia Whitlock, Hollywood superstar. Imogen wondered if that would ever change. The novelty had to wear off at some point, surely.
“You mean me?” she said in disbelief. “Pfft, don’t be ridiculous.
I’m hardly a celebrity. People are just nosy, that’s all.
” She did her best to sound unaffected. In truth, she couldn’t wait for the attention to calm down.
Imogen was desperately craving her cherished peace and quiet. Alas. The things she did for love.
“Nosy or not, it’s kind of amazing how many people travel here just to catch a glimpse of Amelia Whitlock’s girlfriend,” Piper said in awe. “When will I, will I, be famous,” she sang.
“I am not famous,” Imogen said firmly.
“Hmm. You kinda are by association,” Niamh pointed out. “We’re not complaining. Look at how easy the bills have been to pay these past couple of weeks. And don’t forget we’re meeting with that guy next week to design our new sign for outside. That’s a big one to knock off our to-do list.”
It was a big one. Ever since they got there, they had wanted a sign that looked upscale and unique.
One that made the Wishing Well stick in people’s minds.
That meant it had to be designed properly, with no expense spared—and now they finally had enough funds to do it.
Piper had already come up with a logo, and they were thinking maybe some gold swoopy letters for the name.
Niamh in particular was partial to swoops. Imogen and Piper were amenable.
The door opened and Imogen glanced up. “Speaking of bills,” she murmured and subtly indicated the newcomer with a slant of her head.
None other than Edith McKinney approached the counter with a face on her that would make an onion cry. “Well, well, well. Look at all this.” She attempted a smile that looked mildly painful. “Busy little bees, aren’t we?”