by Carrie Elks
26
Love is blind, and lovers cannot see, The pretty follies that themselves commit
– The Merchant of Venice
‘Cesca?’ Sam opened the door to her bedroom, tiptoeing in. ‘You awake?’
She sat up, rubbing at her eyes with tight fists. ‘I am now. What time is it?’ She leaned across and flicked on her bedside lamp. The glow illuminated her face, casting a soft yellow across her skin.
‘It’s about two,’ Sam whispered, sitting down on the edge of her mattress. ‘Sorry I didn’t come earlier. Foster’s only just gone to sleep. Oh, and here.’ He put a rectangular metal stick on her desk.
‘A memory stick?’
‘I remembered your play was still on Foster’s computer. I downloaded it for you, didn’t want him to delete it or something.’
Cesca was touched. She picked up the memory stick, tracing the words on it with her fingers. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘It’s something.’ She felt a lump in her throat. ‘Even I’d forgotten about that play. I hadn’t thought of it all day. Well, not since everybody arrived.’
‘You haven’t had a chance.’ Sam looked thoughtful again. ‘You’ve been running around like crazy. I never realised how demanding my family was until I put myself in your shoes.’
‘It was fine. To be honest, it was nice to keep busy, not to have to think about things for too long.’
‘Not to think about me, you mean?’
There was a strange expression on his face. A mixture of wistfulness and regret. She reached out to cup his jaw. ‘Don’t be silly, of course I wanted to think about you.’
‘You did?’
She clambered onto her knees, crawling close enough to him to press her lips to his. ‘I missed this.’
He cupped the back of her head with his hand, deepening the kiss, and she felt herself relax in his embrace. All day she’d been on high alert, overthinking everything she did. Unsure if she was simply looking after the family, or trying to win some kind of approval from them.
Sam slung his arm around her, laying her back down on the bed. He propped himself above her, arms caging her in on either side. ‘My family have the worst fucking sense of timing.’
Her smile was weak. ‘Story of my life.’ The last time Foster interfered, Sam had disappeared to America. That sense of foreboding returned again. ‘I should leave, Sam. This isn’t right.’
He frowned. ‘What isn’t right?’
‘You and me. Here. All the stuff that’s been happening between us.’
‘What if it’s the only thing that’s right?’ he asked. ‘What if it’s the only thing that I can think about, day or night?’
Her mouth was dry. ‘What if it was?’
‘Then I’d be pretty fucking annoyed that you don’t think it’s right.’
‘Sam . . . ’ She screwed her face up, trying to find the right words. It should be easy for a writer, shouldn’t it? But every time she tried to put her feelings into sentences, it was as though she got writer’s block. In the end, she had to settle for honesty. ‘What if it’s the right thing, but the wrong timing?’ she asked him. ‘Because everything feels so out of time right now.’
‘What are you saying?’ He rolled to the side, his expression closing up.
‘I don’t know. It’s just that it was all so good, then as soon as your family arrived I felt so bad. Now all I want to do is get out of here.’
‘You want to leave?’ he whispered.
‘I don’t even know what I’d be leaving,’ she told him.
‘Me. You’d be leaving me.’
She tried to swallow the emotion down. Sam’s expression wasn’t helping. He looked bereft. ‘I don’t want to leave you,’ she said.
‘Then don’t.’
‘But I can’t stay anyway. Gabi and Sandro arrive back in the morning. I’ll be surplus to requirements.’
‘Then stay as my guest.’
‘As your guest?’ She wasn’t sure what shocked her most: his offer, or her visceral response to it. Being described as his guest felt like a kick in the gut. ‘Is that what I am, your guest?’
He looked confused at her vehemence. ‘Of course you’re not just my guest. But you’re the one who wants to hide everything from my parents. You’re the one who wants to pretend to be a servant and look after us without even looking me in the eye.’
‘So if I told you I wanted you to come clean to them you would?’
He looked almost panicked. ‘I don’t know . . . I . . . God, Cesca. Everything was so easy, so uncomplicated, you know. It’s not a good time right now. Foster and I . . . well, our relationship’s complicated. I don’t want to make it any worse.’
‘I know.’ She felt her heart breaking, piece by tiny piece. ‘And I can understand if you don’t want to introduce me as your . . . whatever it is we are. But I can’t just stay here and pretend to be something I’m not, either.’
‘I’m not asking you to do that.’
‘Yes you are,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re asking me to pretend to be a friend, or an acquaintance or something.’
‘You want me to tell them we’re lovers?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want you to tell them anything at all.’ Tears pricked at her eyes. ‘I just want to go home.’
‘But you don’t have a home.’
‘Thanks for reminding me.’
‘Cesca, I don’t know what you want me to say or do. I’m trying to find a solution here, but you keep knocking me down. What is it you want from me?’
His question stunned her. In the embarrassment of the day, all she could think about was wanting things to go back to the way they were. When she and Sam spent their days writing and editing, and their nights tangled between the sheets. But that option was void, and accepting that the best had already been and gone was heartbreaking.
Was there anything else she wanted? Cesca wasn’t sure. All she did know was that the pain in her chest was unbearable. As though she was losing something she wasn’t even aware she had.
‘I don’t know what I want,’ she said. ‘It’s so late, and I’m tired, and it will be another day tomorrow. We should both get some sleep.’ Alone. She didn’t say the final word, yet it rang out anyway in the half-light of her bedroom.
‘You want me to leave?’ There was that closed expression again on his face. She was getting used to that.
She nodded. ‘It would be awful if someone found you here.’
‘Fine.’ He stood up, running a hand through his messy hair. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He didn’t bother to kiss her before he left. She didn’t bother to ask him to. Instead she switched off the lamp and stared out into the darkness.
‘Are you OK? We can take a rest if you need one,’ Gabi suggested, giving Cesca a brief smile. Since Gabi and Sandro had arrived mid-morning, they’d spent the hours deep-cleaning the kitchen and dining room, and they were both flagging in the heat. Sandro was outside, working with the gardeners. Every now and then he’d put his head around the back door, and Gabi would pass him a glass of iced water, which he’d swallow down in seconds before he disappeared again.
‘I’m fine, it’s you I’m worried about. You shouldn’t have to work so hard after travelling all day. I could have done this while you recovered.’
‘Not at all, we’ve had weeks of relaxation. And you’ve done a great job of keeping everything going on your own. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, but this takes half as long with two of us doing it, so while you’re here . . . ’
‘It’s not a problem,’ Cesca told her. And really, it wasn’t. She was happy hiding away in here, scrubbing at the tiles. For one it kept her mind occupied, especially as Gabi was talking enough for both of them. It also kept her away from Sam’s family.
And from Sam.
‘I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,’ Cesca told her. ‘I was planning to walk into town tomorrow to organise my flight home. I can’t imagine Mrs Ca
rlton wants to pay two lots of wages for us.’
Gabi’s face fell. ‘Oh no, you shouldn’t leave so soon. Please stay. There’s so much we can use you to do, all the things that are too much for me, especially when Sandro is so busy with the garden work.’
‘I need to get home. I was only ever meant to be here while you were away. Anyway, I’m pretty sure you can employ some women from the village to help you.’
‘It’s not the same.’ Gabi pouted. ‘And I want to hear all about your stay. Did you get a chance to explore Varenna, did you make any friends? You need to be here for long enough so I can get all the gossip from you.’
Cesca laughed lightly, hoping Gabi couldn’t see through her nonchalance. ‘What gossip? It’s been very quiet here.’
‘What about Sam?’ Gabi lowered her voice. ‘Did you read what the papers said about him? Do you believe that he did all those things with that woman?’
Cesca stopped scrubbing. She could feel her pulse start to speed. ‘What woman?’
‘The actress, that blonde one. Serena Sloane. She’s very beautiful, but according to the papers also very married.’
Serena Sloane? Cesca had heard of her before. The gorgeous blonde actress was on another level altogether. She and Sam must have made a stunning couple.
The image in her brain made her feel sick.
‘No, he didn’t tell me about that.’ She kept her voice as level as she could.
‘I’m sure it’s not true anyway,’ Gabi said hastily, interpreting Cesca’s quietness for a refusal to gossip. ‘He’s too nice a boy for that.’
‘Yes, much too nice.’ Cesca leaned forward and started scrubbing harder, until her fingers felt raw.
‘You know, if you really do need to go home, can we at least agree that you stay until the weekend?’ Gabi asked. ‘Signor Carlton is having a small party, and I’ll need your help to organise everything.’
‘A party?’ Cesca asked, weakly. ‘Does Sam know about that? I thought he wanted to keep his whereabouts quiet.’
‘Oh, there’s always a party at this time of year. It’s the festival, you see. Signora Carlton loves to entertain, and then take her guests down to the beach and watch the fireworks on the lake.’
‘I see.’ It sounded beautiful. A few days ago she would have been excited at the prospect. But now it felt as flat as everything else surrounding her.
‘Please tell me you’ll stay. Sandro can drive you to the airport the very next day, I promise. But it will be so useful to have your help, and I’d be so grateful for it.’
Gabi took Cesca’s hand, squeezing it tightly, as her face lit up with expectation.
‘I guess it might take that long to book the flight any way . . . ’
‘Yes!!’ Gabi gave her a hug. ‘Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, you really are. I’ll let Signora Carlton know that you’re going to help.’
Giving her a small smile, Cesca went back to her work, scrubbing the floor with a vengeance.
A few more days, and then she could fly home. She could make it that long, couldn’t she?
‘So what’s your next project?’ Foster’s voice boomed across the table. They were all sitting around on the wooden deck overlooking the beach. As the family ate the feast Gabi had prepared for them, Sandro walked around topping up their wine glasses.
‘The last Summer Breeze movie,’ Sam replied. ‘We start filming in October.’
‘That’s a strange time to film a summer movie,’ Izzy said. ‘Shouldn’t you be doing it now?’
‘It’s pretty warm in LA in October,’ Sam pointed out. ‘And it’s amazing what they can do with effects. The main challenge will be for me not to shiver every time I run out of the ocean. If I can do that, we should be good.’
Izzy and Sienna giggled, and he shot them a wink.
‘I expect you’ll be pleased those films are over,’ Foster remarked. ‘It wasn’t your best idea, signing up for those. They’re not exactly art, are they?’
Sam felt himself bristle. ‘A lot of people enjoy them,’ he replied. ‘And who are we to say what art is, anyway?’
‘I can tell you what it isn’t,’ Foster replied, with a laugh. ‘It’s not staring at some topless guy in the sea, which is all your fans want to do.’
Sam took another mouthful of risotto. It was tasteless and gloopy now. For a moment he longed to be sitting in the kitchen, scooping up pasta as he talked with Cesca. Was it really only a couple of days since they did that?
‘Stop it, Foster,’ Lucia chided. ‘Sam did wonderfully well to get that role. You know he hates it when you tease him.’
Sam stayed silent, not wanting to rob his mother of her innocence. If Foster only teased him, Sam could have quite happily taken it.
‘What’s on the plan after that?’ Izzy asked.
‘I’m not sure yet. I might leave Hollywood for a while. I’m getting sick of the circus there.’
Her face lit up. ‘Maybe you could come home to London, we’ve missed you so much. You could stay with us for a while.’
There followed a moment of pleading from all the Carlton females. Sam shivered at the thought of moving back home. At least he had his independence – he could thank Summer Breeze for that.
‘I don’t know, Izz. I’ll have to see what happens. It’s always easier to be in America when there are auditions and stuff.’ Plus it was thousands of miles from Foster. That was another bonus.
‘We’ll get him back somehow, won’t we, Mama?’ Izzy said. ‘Even if we have to use our female persuasion.’
‘Of course we will, darling,’ Lucia replied. ‘He’s been away for far too long.’
Later that evening, after Foster had holed himself up in the library, and his sisters were watching a movie, Sam went looking for Cesca. He hadn’t seen her all day, and had the distinct impression she was avoiding him after their discussion the previous night.
He found her in her bedroom. She was wearing sleep shorts and a vest top, her hair tied up into a high ponytail. She was writing, a notepad propped up on her knees, her face screwed up in concentration. Her absorption stopped her from noticing him at first, allowing Sam a minute of observation that somehow soothed his soul. In here, without the presence of his family or Gabi and Sandro, they could be just Sam and Cesca.
Why couldn’t it always be like that?
‘Hey.’ In the end he broke the silence, unable to watch her any longer without seeing those pretty eyes. Cesca looked up, started, then slid the pencil behind her ear.
Christ, could she get any cuter?
‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘Clearly.’ Sam was amused by her deer-in-the-headlights expression. ‘Are you hiding from me?’
‘No.’ Cesca, on the other hand, didn’t seem amused. ‘It’s been a long day and I was ready for bed. I assumed you’d be busy with your family.’
There was a brittleness to her voice he didn’t recognise. For a moment she seemed more like the Cesca who had screamed at him through the gate than the girl who had melted in his arms.
‘I guess we were both a little busy today. I hated watching you serving them – serving us, I guess. It seemed wrong letting you clear the tables without eating with us.’
‘That’s what I’m paid for, Sam,’ she reminded him. There was still no give in her expression.
‘There isn’t enough money in the world to put up with my stepfather.’
Cesca looked at him, her voice quiet when she spoke. ‘He’s poisonous.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Sam took a step closer, until he was standing over her bed. His fingers itched to touch her, to run a finger down her silky thigh. It felt wrong to be in here with her and not be holding her. ‘But I don’t want to talk about him.’
Her mouth twitched. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
Sam sat down on the mattress, and Cesca moved away from him. For some reason that made him want to drag her across the bed. He wasn’t going to let her draw away, not now.
‘Us
.’
For the first time she laughed. ‘What “us”, Sam? There is no us. There was just two lonely people who were looking for a bit of fun on holiday.’
His stomach contracted at her words. ‘That’s not true.’
‘Oh come on,’ she said. ‘We both know I was just a distraction, after you split up with Serena Sloane. Or at least we do now,’ she said, pointedly. ‘It would have been nice if you’d have informed me before I opened my legs for you though.’
‘How did you know about her?’ His voice took on an icy tone.
‘Were you trying to hide it?’ she asked. ‘Or maybe you couldn’t care less that I knew. What am I, the next Mrs Jackhammer? Just another notch on your belt?’ Not even a very pretty notch compared to the beautiful Serena.
‘You were never just a notch on my belt.’ His hands curled into fists.
‘Of course I was. You don’t just jump out of bed with one girl then into one with the next unless you’re trying to get over her. And I understand, I do. You never offered me anything other than friendship, and I certainly never asked you where we stood. So let’s just take it for what it was.’
Sam’s jaw was tight. ‘What was it then?’
‘A friendship that went a bit too far. We’re chalk and cheese. You’re some massive Hollywood star and I’m a writer who can’t even get a job. It would never work, and if I’m being honest I don’t think we should try. Let’s just leave it as it was, a wonderful holiday fling between friends.’
‘You want to just be friends?’ It felt as though every muscle in his body had turned to steel.
‘I want us to stay friends,’ she told him. ‘And I don’t think we’ll do that if we keep doing this . . . thing, or whatever you want to call it.’
‘Making love?’ he suggested.
‘Sex, Sam. We had sex.’
‘It was more than sex.’
‘Oh, come on, we both know that’s not true. You should at least, you’ve had enough of it, after all. Go ask Serena Sloane.’
‘That’s a bit fucking low. I’m a twenty-something single guy. What do you expect?’ The corner of his mouth rose in a sneer. What the hell was wrong with her?