The subject line made my heart hit the floor.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Great news. Your visa cleared. I promise you’ll love LA in the winter.
I rubbed my chest, struggling to ease the pain there. Frowning at the screen, the words blurred before my burning eyes. Is Shaun leaving?
Then his whispered words in the kitchen echoed in my mind. He loved me. He didn’t want to be without me. This didn’t make sense. Why would he make those promises if he’d always intended to leave?
He hadn’t talked about his next project. Maybe this was a temporary thing. Or maybe it was a job.
We hadn’t discussed a plan for after wrap in any detail. I still didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I did enjoy production. A number of Scotland-based jobs had been advertised on the group Alys had added me to, and there, of course, would be loads here. I’d also enjoyed managing Shaun, so I could always talk to my sister about training me at her agency.
But what did it matter if Shaun wasn’t here? If he took a job in LA, we’d never see each other.
The fist squeezing my heart didn’t ease its grip.
Why hadn’t he asked me?
It was a simple question. We’d shared a lot. He knew I was still figuring out the future; he knew I wanted him in it.
Fuck. I just told him I loved him.
Which was flat-out terrifying since the last person I let myself love had used it against me. Shaun wasn’t like that, though. He wouldn’t use my feelings to manipulate me.
And then I read the rest of the email:
Your Artist Green Card will take a few days to finalize, but you’ll be able to make the permanent move to the USA after Mystery Lines wraps. If you’d like, I can set up a meeting with a great LA realtor to start putting the pieces in place. I’ve got some studio meetings lined up next week and will report back on some potential next options that will finally get you that elusive Oscar.
My stomach dropped, and the room spun. Hot tears splashed down my cheeks, and if I hadn’t been sitting down, I would have crumpled. A low, bitter laugh broke through my clenched jaw.
What use is Badass Mona if she can’t recognise when someone is manipulating her?
“Sparky, did you say something?” Shaun called from the kitchen, his focus on the contents of his fridge.
I couldn’t be here. I wasn’t capable of pretending that everything was peachy. I’d perfected the act with my ex and I refused to do it again, refused to wait around for him to decide whether or not I was worthy of a life update, refused to fall deeper for him while he geared up to dump me.
Why the hell had he bothered saying all those lovely things if he planned to leave me?
I had no answer to that. Nothing made sense. Evidently, I couldn’t trust my instincts with men. I scrubbed hard at my tear-stained cheeks and scrambled off the sofa, my shaky legs barely holding me. I picked up my purse and threw my phone inside.
“Do you want another drink?” The cheery note in his voice worsened the ache in my chest.
I couldn’t answer him. He wouldn’t have heard my teary croaks, anyway.
I considered the stairs to his bedroom. My small suitcase of clothes sat on his bed. I’d packed a bag ready for our long-weekend break to avoid having to go back to my flat in the morning. I didn’t want to lose them, but equally, the longer I stuck around, the more painful this would get.
It would be much worse if I had to come back for my things.
I took a step towards the stairs.
“Where are you going?” The edge of hurt and disbelief in his tone gutted me.
I froze, my body tense, and a lone tear got the better of me. I scrubbed at it angrily and squashed the bubble of emotion threatening to knock me on my backside. He didn’t get to make me feel like shit when he was planning big life changes without me.
Maybe it was cowardly to make my escape without talking to him. I’d wear the label proudly if it stopped the shattering of my fragile ability to trust others.
Somehow, I buried the hurt. I wasn’t a good-enough actor to hide my anger, but at least he wouldn’t see the wound he’d opened.
“You got an email from Sherry.” I spun around, spitting the words at him.
Whatever Shaun saw on my face, it made him take a step back. Concern overtook his features as he considered me.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe Sherry had gone behind his back and arranged it all.
“Something’s wrong. Talk to me, Mona.”
I rolled my eyes. Stating the obvious much!
“Were you going to tell me about LA?”
He flinched at the question, and the tiny grain of hope floated away. I wasn’t imaging the guilt that slithered into his emerald eyes.
“It’s not confirmed.” Shaun approached me, and I backed away. His face scrunched up at the movement. “Sherry thought it would be a good move, and the guys have been nagging me to try it for years.”
“Were you going to tell me?” I repeated, my tone as hard as the wall I was constructing around my heart.
He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would happen.”
I snorted at that. “You didn’t think a Golden Globe–winning actor would get a green card?”
“I didn’t think of it like that.” He groaned, raking a hand down his face.
“Is it a temporary thing?”
Shaun bit his lip. “I don’t know.”
“When are you going?”
His eyes flicked to his open laptop. “Maybe after the show wraps. Sherry’s working on lining up projects in LA.”
“You didn’t move when you were with Lily, so why now?” I had to force myself to say her name. Reminding myself of the usual calibre of his tastes was not something I needed front and centre.
“When things were shit, it was easier being near the guys.”
His eyes begged me to understand, and unfortunately, I did. He didn’t have a support network here. His best friends were in LA, and when you’re hurting you need your friends. He’d made a brave choice.
Too bad he hadn’t thought to talk to me about it.
“Would you still go if it came through now?” The question left my lips before I could claw it back. It was stupid, redundant and reeking of a neediness I swore I would never give anyone. His career meant the world to him; it would open far too many doors for him to turn it down.
Shaun nodded, and old Mona laughed hysterically in my head.
“Well, your green card’s on its way, so I hope your new life is everything you dreamed it would be.”
With a sad smile, I continued towards the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I rushed into his bedroom, and upon seeing his bed, memories of the things we’d done and said in it came racing back. They added an extra pang of loss that I could have done without. My teeth sank into my lip, the sharp sting reminding me why I was leaving. I averted my eyes, scooped up my suitcase and backed out.
He was waiting for me when I came back down.
“Let’s talk about this,” he pleaded.
I ignored him, my focus on the door and leaving before I started crying.
“Wait!” he shouted, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors. His hand landed on my shoulder before I could touch the door handle. He spun me around, his frantic eyes searching mine. “It doesn’t mean we have to end.”
My eyebrows rose. “You’re moving to LA in five months.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t stop us from seeing each other.”
“For how long?”
Shaun frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”
His hands caressed my face and arms. He wouldn’t stop touching me.
My eyes started to burn again. It was too much. I really needed him to stop.
“When would we see each other, Shaun?” I pressed my hand against his chest and tried to push him away – tried being the operative word; he didn’t so much as budge.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I could visit
.” His eyes glazed and his focus turned insular, scrambling for pretty words to fix the situation, no doubt.
It fit perfectly with the image I’d built in my head. I turned away from him, using his distraction to shake off his grip.
“I don’t think this is going to work for me. We gave it a good shot, but I can’t do it.” It felt like another entity had taken over my body and was forcing me through the motions. The words fell dead from my lips, scrubbed until the emotion faded away.
“You don’t mean that,” he whispered, the pain in his voice making me wince.
I paused in the doorway. The thought that he would have abandoned me without notice burned, its heat slowly melting all of my progress. I needed to know the answer.
“Would you have told me you were leaving the country, or would I have woken up one morning to the tabloids reporting you’d landed?” I wasn’t able to stop the hitch in my voice. I kept my back to him and waited.
I heard him swallow, but thankfully, he made no attempt to touch me again.
“I would have told you.”
The lack of certainty in his voice pulled the pin on my pain. Tears trickled down my face, and I walked out of there, grateful that he couldn’t see my heart breaking.
I got in the elevator and glared at the white face of a woman I’d dreaded seeing again. Her red-rimmed eyes had been an on-and-off feature of my life for four years. At least I had enough control left to hold back the dam of tears until I’d crawled into the back of a taxi.
I’d expected more. More than a shell-shocked, reluctant Shaun. A stupid part of me might have hoped he’d try to convince me to go with him. It wouldn’t have been a difficult argument.
I was prepared for angry, biting Shaun. I glanced up at the streamlined glass building with a frown. I’d expected him to chase me, to fight me, to see through my shaky walls to the truth. I wanted him, I loved him, and I would have gone anywhere with him. If only he’d thought enough of me to ask.
Despite all of the shit I’d gone through, I was still the hopeful romantic who wanted to believe that people wouldn’t willingly use me. I wanted to believe that when they messed up, it was truly a mistake they regretted.
Instead, I got that pathetic and unsatisfying end. The whole thing just confirmed that his words were nothing more than pretty sounds. I meant very little to him. Once again, I’d fallen for an untouchable man and I was going to pay for it.
How could I have fallen for his lies?
Choking on the tears, I slumped in my seat and buckled myself in.
“Where to, love?” The driver glanced at me over his shoulder with an impatient frown.
“What time is it?” I didn’t recognise my own voice. It sounded hollow.
“Uh, one-forty. Where to?”
Last train left hours ago. I sank low in the seat and gave him my address. I’d have to drive.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Resigned to a night of bad sleep and crying, I crawled into bed and failed to block out thoughts of Shaun. For once, I was grateful for my flatmates’ partying. At least no one was home to hear my painful sobs. Or answer the door when the pounding started around 4AM.
Sometime before then, I’d finally fallen asleep to fitful dreams. When the noise started, I’d jumped out of my skin, not sure where I was or what was making that awful noise. It’s not a pleasant feeling going from peaceful blackout to heart-racing, frozen-in-your-bed-unsure-of-the-noise-that-woke-you fear.
Of course, when more knocking sounded, I recognised it for what it was and rolled over. He could knock until his hands bled. I wasn’t opening that door.
After that, I tossed and turned for another two hours. Sleep wouldn’t come, and the longer I lay there free of distraction, the more my blood started to boil.
As the sun started rising, I picked up my suitcase and considered the remaining things in my room. I hadn’t brought much in the first place, but I didn’t want to hang about and pack it all. I’d have to come back anyway.
With that disconcerting thought, I whisked myself out of the flat and into my car. The age-softened cushion and fruity smell of my air freshener offered a familiar comfort. It could also take me to a person who could make it all better.
“Are you going to let me in or just keep staring at me?”
My words slurred from tiredness and crying. Have you tried driving nine hours on a motorway? There are no distractions, just a radio and your mind on repeat.
Isla stood in her doorway, blinking at me with mild shock. So maybe I should have called ahead. I’d thought about it and then decided that she’d talk me out of leaving, and I really wanted to.
I braced myself for the questions. They would come. If not now, then after dinner – they always did. I’d nicknamed Isla “Pitbull” when we were kids because she refused to let anything go. Once, she accused Cameron of stealing her crayon. She kept at him for two weeks until he threw the thing at her. She wouldn’t let me escape now either.
My words finally registered and her surprise cleared, but the concern remained. She pulled me into the flat and slammed the door.
“That smile needs some work,” she said, prying the bag from my tight grip.
“It’s the best I could do on short notice. You’ll live.”
“Then stop trying. It’s going to give me bloody nightmares.”
I followed her into the living room and collapsed on her sofa, instantly pulling a cushion to my chest. I’d done my part: I got myself to Scotland. I’d let her take over from here.
“Who do I have to put a hit on?” Isla asked, her voice tight. Doors slammed in the kitchen and glass clinked.
My face hurt and my eyes itched with tears yet again. I’d finally taken a step forward, and he had to go and ruin it. Couldn’t he have logged his email out before giving me his laptop? That – no, I didn’t want that. Then I’d be none the wiser and even worse off in the winter when he left me.
Fuck, I didn’t know what I wanted.
I buried my head in the throw pillow and screamed.
“Okay, let the pillow go and talk to me.” Isla tugged hard at the cushion, and I released it without a fight.
She exchanged it for a glass of red wine and a soft, patient smile. My sister was a pro at that smile when she wanted something; it’s what made her a top-notch agent.
I hesitated, staring at the glass as guilt stabbed me in the gut. I’m not with him anymore. I can get drunk if I want. I drained the glass without pause and placed it on the coffee table.
Isla’s eyes widened, and she got up to grab the bottle.
I sank into the sofa then and let the story go in a rush. The sooner I got it out, the sooner I could stop talking about it.
Isla’s mask of calm slipped at multiple points until only pity and anger remained. My stomach turned at the pity. I could handle anything but pity.
“I know, alright! Mona can’t pick a decent guy and needs to stop trying.” I sounded bitter to my own ears.
“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you hoped.”
“But I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Shaun to begin with?”
“I didn’t say that and I encouraged you, remember?” Isla tilted her head, momentarily lost in thought. “Besides, you wouldn’t be the first Baines to fall for an actor.”
Questions exploded on my tongue, all vying for first place. What the hell did she want me to do with that?
“Yeah, I kept that one kind of quiet,” she mumbled.
“Understatement of the century. When was this? Who was this?”
“It was years ago, my first job out of uni and I’m not sure I should say who.” She shifted in her seat, her eyes fixed resolutely on the wine swirling in her glass.
“Nuh-uh. Spill.” For the first time in hours, something other than grief filled me. I practically bounced in my seat.
“Bryce Reid.”
My eyes widened. “What? How could you not tell me?” I screeched, a
nd it was a mighty sound. Her neighbour’s dogs would have heard it on the ground floor.
Next to Shaun and his friends, Bryce Reid was the next level. He’d landed awards ridiculously early in his career. He’d started out as the bleeding-heart bad boy of a huge drama and transitioned into chick flicks and action films. The films could be shit, but his face alone would sell out the box office.
“It was a hot and fast fling.” She brushed it away nonchalantly, but she peeked at me from beneath her lashes, giving herself away.
I crossed my arms and waited. Sighing, she continued.
“We were attracted to each other like moths to the flame. He was a client at my agency. Agent-client relationships weren’t allowed – aren’t allowed. If we’d gotten caught, they might have overlooked it if I was fully qualified, but as an assistant, it would have ended my career.”
“You didn’t get caught.” It was a fact. She was still an agent, so whatever happened, she’d bailed before anyone found out.
“No. His rising star thankfully took him away before the agency noticed anything fishy. We weren’t very discreet, though. I thought we were, but after years of reflection, we were incredibly fucking lucky.” She shrugged, drained her glass, then topped us up.
“Anyway, he landed a pilot in Hollywood. The series got a full order and took off. He was meant to come back for me, but instead, he ghosted.” Isla recounted it the same way I recounted my history with my ex, detached and emotionless.
I stared at my sister. “I can’t believe you never told me. I can’t believe I never noticed.”
“I’m only telling you now to give you some perspective.”
I frowned at her. What does that mean?
“I have first-hand experience of both sides. I understand why you’re upset, but I also see their side of things. Most actors wait years to break out and never do. Those that do wait years to step up and never do. Moving to LA could give Shaun that.”
I spluttered. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course. I’m just saying, as an agent who has given up her own Shaun, I get both sides. As a professional in this business, I knew Bryce leaving was the best thing for him. But that didn’t mean I didn’t scream and cry any less. I just did it with bitter resignation.”
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