Chapter Eleven
Alex’s heart leapt like an excited teenager’s – as it always did when he saw Ellie’s name on his list of notifications. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss on the roof terrace. How he’d felt for a moment as if he were living the life he was supposed to… with Ellie.
But it wasn’t real, and it was blatantly obvious from what she’d said that she just wanted to remain as friends.
He could understand that, suspected she’d been hurt in the past, and not just by the jerks who’d stood her up.
There was something else lurking deeper behind her bravado.
He wasn’t sure what, or if he even had any right to pry.
No, he definitely didn’t have any right to pry.
It was better this way. No hurt feelings, for either of them.
Ignoring his other messages, he got off the treadmill and sat on a nearby weights bench.
It was early, so no one else was using the hotel gym, and he preferred it that way.
Not only for privacy, but because he’d also be awake for Ellie’s first message of the day – or the end of the night, as it would be for her.
Did you get your offer accepted on that cool bachelor pad?
It had been almost three weeks since they’d viewed the houses, and he’d still not made any firm decisions.
Yep. Although. now I’m not so sure. Maybe I should just rent a place instead?
He waited anxiously for her reply, wondering if he should have called her instead.
It was so hard to get his thoughts across, and he was still in two minds.
The Spitalfields house kept popping into his head at random moments – or, more specifically, Ellie’s reactions to the house: the way she’d gasped with wonder as she walked in, the stroke of her fingertips along the marble countertops, her face filled with longing when she’d stared into the nursery.
He’d meant what he’d said; he would have bought it for her, if she’d let him.
The house was beautiful, homely, and perfect for a family. If he’d seen a house like that when he’d still been with Savannah, he probably would have bought it.
Life was different now. He was alone, and he should adapt.
He had the horrible feeling that it was a case of the right property at the wrong time.
But he wasn’t sure he wanted the bachelor lifestyle either.
Could he see himself sitting alone in a hot tub overlooking the city and marina, a bunch of celebrities and wannabes fawning next to him?
He hated that idea; he’d grown up amongst that set, and none of them had particularly cared for him.
He remembered one famous actor had called him the boring brother.
He wanted a home like Ellie’s, family photos lining the walls, a place with history and permanence. He’d moved so much, most of his stuff was in storage – or in the New York apartment, and he hadn’t stepped foot in there for months.
Ellie took longer than normal to reply and he wondered if he’d overstepped an invisible boundary. After all, he’d dragged her around London to help him find a home, and he was still dragging his feet. He must seem so petulant and spoilt to her.
Well, if you’re not sure, maybe it’s best you rent. Take the pressure off any big decisions.
He wasn’t sure if he liked that idea either, even if it was by far the most sensible option.
What had he wanted her to say, that he should buy the Spitalfields house? The one she’d fallen in love with but couldn’t afford, rub some more salt in her wounds?
He’d told Ellie that he wasn’t ready for a family, but the truth was he was too ready. Even despite all the red flags in his relationship with Savannah, he’d been ready to take that leap. But they’d ended in disaster before they’d even begun.
Savannah had wanted his brother instead, the golden, perfect child of his family.
She’d accused him of being cold and uncompromising, of being selfish, and he was – look at how he’d manipulated Ellie into helping him.
Had he done the same with Savannah? Started dating her because it was convenient to his plans? Yes.
But then, hadn’t Savannah done the same thing to him?
A chill ran down his spine when he thought of how blind he’d been.
They’d spent little time together in New York, especially after he’d agreed to the London production. He’d wanted her in London with him, but she wouldn’t risk even a short break in her film career, and she hadn’t wanted to leave her dogs.
He rolled his eyes. How many did she have now?
Ten? Twelve? All fluffy yapping things with ugly squished faces.
He was admittedly petty enough to feel no small amount of wicked satisfaction, knowing how much Liam disliked dogs.
Hopefully, he was enjoying being woken up every day by ten dogs nibbling on his toes and shitting in his Japanese-inspired garden.
He refocused on his chat with Ellie.
Everything okay with the paperwork Barb sent you?
She replied immediately:
Yes. So relieved they accepted your offer. Only three months until we exchange. Go Barb!
He texted back:
Go Barb! How’s work going?
Urgh, okay. I’m shattered. But only two more days till the Olivier Awards. And then it’s straight to the Bahamas!
Her message was immediately followed by a face-slapping emoji.
Sorry… Bet you’re not excited about that at all. I’m more excited about the time off to be honest.
He smiled and replied:
I get it. Don’t worry, you deserve a holiday. It’s the least I can do for all your help.
And she had helped him, in so many ways, big and small. But the Olivier Awards ‘reveal’ of their relationship was fast approaching, and he hadn’t stopped checking the alerts on his phone.
The press was becoming more frenzied and ridiculous, each website and gossip magazine claiming to have the inside scoop on his new relationship.
Every female cast member in his production had been suggested as his latest fling.
There were also several British pop stars and influencers who’d been named as being seen with him.
One grainy photo showed a TV presenter holding hands with someone in a baseball cap, and he’d been named as the mystery man and her boyfriend. He’d never even met her.
A woman’s shrill voice brought him back to the present. ‘Oh. MY. GOD!’
He glanced up to see a young woman rushing towards him wearing head-to-toe designer workout wear and wild eyes. He immediately stood up and grabbed his t-shirt from the treadmill. Damn, this was awkward, meeting a fan topless.
‘I knew I’d seen you in the lobby. You’re Alex King!’ she shouted, and her voice echoed around the silent gym. ‘Can I get a selfie?’
She’d already grabbed his arm and taken the picture before he’d had a chance to answer.
‘Sorry, I’ve gotta go,’ he said, untangling himself from her vice-like grip quickly and striding out of the gym as fast as his legs could carry him.
After he got back to his suite, he called Richie. ‘I need to change hotels – better yet, rent me an apartment. A similar set-up to my New York place, plenty of security.’
Richie was used to panicked calls. ‘No longer buying?’ he asked smugly, and Alex’s jaw tightened.
‘I’m not sure yet.’
‘Hmm, well, no problem, I can sort that out for you in no time. By the way, does your date for the awards need a stylist?’
Alex smiled for the first time since the incident with the woman in the gym. ‘No, she’s got enough style for the both of us.’
‘Hmm,’ repeated Richie, unimpressed. ‘Well, you will definitely need a stylist. For your hair, if nothing else.’
Alex glanced at himself in the mirror. ‘What’s wrong with my hair?’
‘You look like a hobo, like you can’t cope. Is that the impression you want to give your family when they next see you?’
‘Fine, book the stylist,’ snapped Alex.
‘I really wish you’d give me the name of your new girl. I need to shape the narrative, remember? I hope it’s someone who will show off your softer side. Prove to people that you’ve changed, that what happened with Savannah and your brother actually helped you grow as a person.’
Alex had had enough. ‘I thought you were meant to be on my side too? You know what, fuck the narrative. The world will just have to accept us as we are.’
He ended the call and threw his phone on the bed before storming into the bathroom. He needed a cold shower to cool off.