And not the one who was completely oblivious twelve weeks ago.
I’m pushing the niggling questions about Donovan to the back of my mind for the time being. Dad is right; I need to put myself first. “This all looks . . . amazing,” I say, taking a seat and trying to avoid looking at the mess.
“It tastes even better.” He opens the oven and, using the dish towel, takes out a bowl and brings it over to the table where there is already salad and garlic bread and a bottle of wine. He looks at home. Well, my house has been home to him these last few years. “Pasta bake with chicken, broccoli, onions, and mushrooms. Real comfort food, according to your dad.” I smile because it’s one of my favourite meals that Dad makes. Dad isn’t the best cook in the world but, then again, my mum was and she insisted on doing all the cooking. This dish is the one my dad likes to cook, and Mum always loved it too.
“If this tastes as good as it smells and looks, you can stay for as long as you want,” I say with a smile as he serves some onto my plate.
“About that . . .” He puts the spoon back in the bowl and cocks his head to the side. As he sits studying me, I notice the deep frown lines around his eyes that weren’t there earlier. The boyish grin he usually has isn’t there. He looks worried and deep in thought and I can take a guess what he’s thinking about.
“I know it’ll only be for a short time because when Donovan arrives in the country, you can go and stay with him wherever he stays.”
“Ella, right now I don’t want to see him because I’m so fucking mad with him, but I know my being here will be a constant reminder for you. So I can book into a hotel tomorrow.”
“You will do no such thing. It’ll be nice having a distraction, not spending all my time on my own. I swear, I’m questioning my sanity on a daily basis.”
“You shouldn’t be questioning anything, especially about you. He’s the one in the wrong. I want answers to all this crap that’s swimming around in my head, so I’ve no idea how you feel. He’s really fucked up and you’re not the only one who’ll need a new agent. I can’t work with someone I don’t trust or respect and, after what he’s done to you, I’ve lost all that. I might be losing a friend but you’re on the verge of losing so much more. I can’t believe he left you with nothing.”
“I know that,” I say with a touch of sadness in my voice. “Okay. For the rest of the night, neither of us is allowed to mention his name.” Because every time I think about him I realise being with Donovan has been the biggest mistake of my life and that breaks my heart. I’ve been so stupid. Wasted so much time.
“Deal. Food, wine, proposals and my company. What more could you possibly want?” he teases and I laugh. Connor has always been able to make me laugh and smile.
I shake my head; I’ve no reply to that. It’s strange sitting in my own kitchen eating food that someone else has cooked and it really is tasty.
“Mmm, this is good. Why have you never cooked for me before?”
“I wanted to, believe me.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. Donovan believes when it comes to cooking and cleaning, it should be a woman’s job, regardless of what else they do. He really does have old fashioned values. Why am I only realising this now? Because he’s not around to control my thoughts. I shake my head.
“I could get used to this.”
“Don’t get too used to it. My cooking skills are pretty limited, although I’m not too bad when it comes to cleaning, so the mess I’ve made, I’ll clean it up.” He knows me well enough to know that I’m a complete clean freak when it comes to my home.
“As long as the mess isn’t here in the morning, it will be good enough for me.”
“I can do that.” As I take a sip of the wine, I don’t doubt it. “We have lots to talk about, and I think I should organise a meeting with the casting director to talk over what they’re looking for.”
“I’ll read over your email before I decide to do that.”
“Agreed.”
“Now can you stop talking and just let me enjoy my food?” He nods. The rest of dinner is eaten in silence. Well, what I can manage. I’m not sure my body knows what’s going on. Two proper meals today; it’s not used to it.
“I thought you were enjoying it,” he says when I put my cutlery down.
“Sorry. Yes, it’s lovely, it’s just . . .”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. You’ve eaten more than I thought you would. Right, go on through to your front room and take our wine glasses. I’ll grab my laptop and the rest of the wine.” He moves around the island and takes my hand, helping me to my feet. Always the gentleman. As the thought enters my head, I realise that’s the way he’s always been, and not just with me.
Connor Andrews has never had a bad word printed about him in any tabloids on either side of the Atlantic. His image is very clean cut; always has been. He’s never done drugs and I’ve never seen him pissed. Tipsy, yes, but never drunk. He’s dated a few women in the last few years, but claimed they were never anything serious.
There’s no big secret, no skeletons hiding in his closet waiting to make an appearance. What you see is what you get with him.
He was born up north, near Inverness, brought up on a farm with his parents. He’s worked hard throughout his life to achieve his dreams and his parents made sacrifices to put him through acting school.
“Go. I’ll at least put the dishes in the dishwasher.” I lift our glasses and wander through the house. It’s strange having him here and no Donovan. I expected it would be difficult or at least uncomfortable, but it’s not. I feel at ease. Putting the glasses down on the coffee table, I switch on the TV. I’ve not really bothered with it in weeks. I’ve tried to be blissfully unaware of what has been going on in the outside world. I start flicking through the channels, avoiding all the news and showbiz channels. There’s plenty of time for me to find out what’s happening in the showbiz scene and, at the moment, I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it all.
Small steps.
There’s not much on TV tonight. I hear Connor’s phone ringing and his footsteps walking through the hallway as he answers it. When he enters the room, he switches it to loudspeaker but raises a finger to his mouth, telling me to be quiet. He puts the bottle of wine down beside the glasses and his laptop that he had tucked under his arm.
“So you arrived safely?” Donovan asks. My heart races with anger and frustration hearing his voice for the first time in weeks. I want to scream and shout and I have to cover my mouth stopping me from venting weeks’ worth of frustration and anger.
“Yip, and on time.”
“How’s Ella?” He asks the question but doesn’t sound interested in hearing the answer.
I pause, hoping Connor doesn’t tell him what I know. “Well, if you would answer her calls you would know she’s been ill.” I sigh with relief. Connor stands in the middle of the room, eyes set on me. It’s not a lie he’s telling, he’s only withholding some of the truth.
“Oh!” Really? Is that all Donovan has to say?
“Yeah, she’s not been out of the house in weeks. Some virus. It’s really floored her. You should’ve been here to look after her, especially when Archie and Callum haven’t been in the country either.”
“I’ve been busy.” Yeah, right. Busy entertaining half of Hollywood, I’m sure. Or has it just been Katherine Hunter? I’m glad I asked the last question in my own head because I sound like a jealous bitch.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of her until you get here for my premiere. Hopefully she’ll be fit and well enough to attend with you.”
“About that. I won’t be in Scotland for your premiere. Something has come up.”
“What the actual fuck? You’re meant to be my friend and agent. You should be here. What’s so important that its keeping you in L.A?”
“I’m now representing Miss Hunter as well and she has a meeting I need to attend.”
“Donovan, I’ve just told you Ella has been really ill. She still is. Fuckin
g hell. It looks as though she’s lost about a stone in weight and all you can say is you won’t be home because of Miss Hunter. I think you have your priorities all wrong. The Donovan I know would’ve been on the first available flight home to take care of his girl. What’s changed?” I can hear the anger in Connor’s voice as he paces the floor.
“I’m really busy with work. Completely snowed under.”
“Yeah, I know, and sorting out meetings for me and Ella in Glasgow should be your concern too, or have you forgotten about that?”
“No, I’ve not forgotten. There’s a few details I need to sort out for you both on this and then you can sign on the dotted line.”
Connor stands, shaking his head at me and mouths, ‘He’s a lying pig.’ I can’t argue with him on that. He’s been lying to me for months. “So when will you be here?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe the week after the premiere. It just depends on what happens over here.”
“Donovan, what will I say to Ella? She could do with your support.”
“Tell her whatever you like. She’ll understand.”
“Will she? Because I fucking don’t. I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to sort out your shit and get back home to look after your girlfriend.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Look, I need to go. I’ll give you a call in a few days.” Donovan ends the call.
“I swear to God, Ella. Please tell me there is no you and him any longer? Because I’m going to kill him. He must be on drugs. That’s the only explanation I have for his behaviour.”
“There’s no us. I couldn’t stay with him after all this, and as you said earlier, the trust has been broken. It was broken the day he left, leaving me with nothing. I’m just hoping my dad and Jonathon don’t dig up any more skeletons because I don’t want Dad bailing me out constantly because I was stupid.”
“Enough.” Connor rushes over and sits down beside me. “This is not your fault. He’s lied to you and deceived you and he has to pay the price.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, looking at him, scared of what I know he’s about to say. The one thing I’m unsure of doing.
“I mean you have to go public about what he’s done to you.”
And there it is.
“No, I can’t. I don’t want the world knowing this.”
“Ella, I get that, but if you do go public, it would destroy his career. He deserves to have everything taken away from him.”
“You might be right, but I’m hoping there’s another way to do it without involving me.”
“Maybe. Now, what are we going to watch?” He must sense my apprehension at our conversation as he changes the subject.
“Here.” I hand Connor the remote control. “I don’t care as long as it’s not a love story.”
“I’m sure I can find something.”
I top up our glasses and hand Connor his. I take mine and get comfortable on the couch. He flicks through the channels until he lands on an action movie. That’ll do for me. He kicks off his shoes as he’s done a million times before, making himself at home. I find myself staring at the man beside me. A man who has been a friend to me and continues to be one. There’s something different about Connor. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard the conversation with Donovan. I’m not going to think too much about it because, at the moment, I’m relaxed and I don’t want that to change.
I turn my attention back to the TV and take a drink. For someone who was meant to be putting Donovan Bell out of my head for tonight, I’m not doing very well. He seems to be everywhere I turn; pictures of the two of us together in this room. Silly things like ornaments he bought.
All this crap has to go.
I try to watch the movie but I’m feeling agitated and also a bit tipsy from the wine. Which isn’t a great surprise. I’ve not had alcohol in weeks. Add that to the small matter that I’ve not been eating properly. So, of course the alcohol was bound to hit me quicker than usual.
“What’s wrong?” Connor asks.
“I’m not really in the mood to watch this.”
“Do you want to see the proposal then?”
“Can we do that tomorrow? I think I’ll go to bed,” I say, standing, but the room spins. Bloody hell. I don’t even think I’ve had two full glasses of wine.
“Here. Take my arm,” says Connor, standing up.
“I don’t want your help.” I take a step away from him, but my body sways.
“You might not want it but you need it.”
“Whatever.”
We take the stairs slowly. I think Connor’s scared I’m going to fall back down. His arm is around my waist, gripping me tightly.
At the top, he stops and opens the first bedroom door. “I’m not sleeping in there,” I shout, pulling the door closed. Yes, it’s the master bedroom, but I’ve not spent a night in there since I found out about Donovan.
“Oh. So where are you sleeping?”
“At the back of the house. The last room.” He stares at me, puzzled. I know what he’s thinking; of all the bedrooms I can pick, I choose the smallest room in the house. “Okay.” We walk along the hallway until we reach the end. He opens the door and sighs. I don’t blame him. The room is cluttered with most of my things.
He releases me and I throw myself face down on the bed. I’m feeling tired and teary and I want to be alone. “Ella, are you okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know anything anymore.” My tears fall onto the pillow and I shiver before I feel a blanket being wrapped around me and strong arms holding me.
“DONOVAN, WHY WOULD YOU DO this to me? To us. Why do you need money so bad?”
“I just do. You wouldn’t understand.” There’s a sadness to his tone, but also an edge.
I look at him and don’t recognise the man before me. He’s different. His dark eyes stare straight through me, not really seeing me. He’s balancing on the edge of being angry and in pain.
“The man I know would’ve talked to me instead of being deceitful. Going behind my back and robbing from me. Everything I’ve worked so hard for over the years, you’ve taken.” I sit down, unable to look at him. “If you were in trouble, you could’ve come to me. I would’ve tried to help without you stealing from me.” He moves across the living room and stands looking out of the large bay windows. “Tell me what’s going on. I think after everything I deserve to know, don’t you?”
He coughs to clear his throat. “What’s to tell? I’ve fucked up. I got involved in something I shouldn’t have and now it’s cost me everything.”
“How has it cost you?” I ask through my tears. “What have you lost? Because you’re still out on the town every other night, splashing someone else’s cash. Let’s face it, you’ve spent all of your money and mine. Maybe I should warn whoever it is what type of person you really are; and that’s a thief.”
He still doesn’t turn around to look at me or even offer me an apology. My emotions are swinging back and forth because I want answers and he’s not giving me them. I rise to my feet and march towards him, pulling on his shoulders, roughly forcing him to turn around. “What?” he asks as though I’m the one in the wrong.
“What? You really don’t have a clue. I’ve had to sit back and watch as your car was towed away, and after that I find out you’ve re-mortgaged my house and re-financed my cars, but not only that, you’ve somehow managed to empty my bank account. Yet you still manage to stand here in my house and think you’ve not done anything wrong. You left me with nothing.”
“But Daddy will bail you out. I need the money.” I have no idea how he manages to say it with a straight face.
I laugh in his face. “You’re not getting anything from me.”
“Really? Well, two can play this game. I’ll make sure you never work in acting again.”
“Get out. Get out!” I yell at him and, this time, he laughs. “I don’t want you here.”
“That maybe so, but I’m a
fraid you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere until I get some money. You owe me.”
These dreams—nightmares—are awful. Each night since I found everything out, they’ve been getting worse. After all this time, it should be better. I sit up in bed, tears running down my face—tears of anger. Donovan Bell might be thousands of miles away from me but he’s still managing to get into my head, even when I’m trying to sleep, haunting me. My head is throbbing and my face is wet from tears and sweat. This isn’t a good start to the day.
I grab my phone to check the time. It’s nine-thirty. I should’ve been up and ready by now but I’m not and all I want to do is go back to sleep. It was the first I’ve slept all the way through the night in weeks.
Connor.
He helped me up the stairs and covered me. I felt his arms around me as I drifted off to sleep. Oh, no. I’ve made a fool of myself. Now I really do want to slide back down the bed, pull the covers over my head and stay here for the rest of the day.
Whistling from the hallway grabs my attention; it can only be Connor. “Are you decent?” he calls through the door.
Am I decent? I lift the cover and I’m still wearing my shorts and vest. “Yes.”
He’s got a bottle of water in his hand, along with something else. “Here. Thought you might need these.” He hands me the water and some paracetamol. How thoughtful.
“Thanks.”
His eyes stop and take me in. “Ella, what’s wrong?” His voice is panicked as he sits down on the bed beside me.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Ella McGregor, don’t lie to me. Now take a deep breath and tell me why you’ve been crying.”
This isn’t fair on him. He shouldn’t have to deal with me, but I do as he says. “It was just a dream. A vivid dream about Donovan. He was here, looking for more money. Demanding it, refusing to leave until he got what he wanted. He was unapologetic as to what I’ve been through.”
Scripted Reality Page 4