by Ali McNamara
“What my husband is trying to say, Francois,” I quickly interrupted, “is that it is most kind of you to spoil us in this way, and we are very grateful, of course, to both yourself and the hotel.”
“It is our greatest pleasure, madam. Bon appétit.” Francois gave another little bow. “Come along, Tomas.” He beckoned to the waiter.
Tomas obediently followed Francois. They paused at the door and wished us a good evening before quietly closing it behind them.
“Well,” Sean said, looking at the tray in front of him. “What on earth gave them the idea we were newlyweds?”
“Beats me,” I said innocently. “But let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, eh? Come on, Sean, this looks lovely. Let’s tuck in.”
Sean hesitated.
I hoped he wasn’t going to mention what had happened—or what was just about to happen before Tomas and Francois had arrived.
“Not hungry?” I asked, picking up a plate and placing one of the cakes on it. “Can’t I persuade you into something a little bit naughty but nice?”
I blushed when I realized what I’d said.
Sean grinned. “You almost did, Scarlett,” he said, coming over to the table and picking up the bottle of champagne. “And I’m sure it would have been an awful lot nicer than any of these cream cakes are ever going to be.”
Twenty-Five
After we had eaten all of the chocolates, most of the cakes, and had drunk all of the champagne, Sean and I sat propped up against the bed on the thick soft carpet feeling a little tipsy. Well, I was anyway; I wasn’t too sure about Sean, but he was grinning more than he usually did, so I took that as a sign of possible inebriation.
Nothing more had been said about what had happened before Francois and Tomas had shown up, and I was glad. My life was complicated enough without adding Sean as anything more than just a friend into the mix.
“So,” Sean said, tipping his empty champagne glass upside down. “What now?”
“I guess I’d better head back to my room,” I said, although I didn’t really want to. That was the thing about Sean, he was such good company I never wanted our time together to end, wherever we were. “We’ve got an early flight in the morning, remember?” I knelt forward to reach for my shoes which I’d kicked off earlier when we’d flopped down on to the carpet together.
“Did you know your foot is as big as your arm from your elbow to your wrist?” Sean said, grabbing hold of my right foot. “Let’s measure yours.”
“Hey, stop it,” I said, praying he wouldn’t start tickling me.
“Why, you’re not ticklish, are you, Red?”
“No,” I said, managing to flip myself back over. In an attempt to deflect him I decided to counteract his Julia Roberts foot quote from Pretty Woman—although I was pretty sure Sean wouldn’t realize it was used in the film—with my own from Notting Hill. I pretended to inspect Sean’s sock-covered foot.
“Hmm, that’s an awfully big foot you’ve got there, Mr. Bond. You do know what they say about men with big feet.”
Sean raised his eyebrows at me.
“Big feet, big shoes,” I teased as I wriggled my foot away from him.
Sean laughed and moved nearer to me. “Please don’t go just yet, Scarlett. This weekend has been so much fun—well, most of it has—it seems a shame for it to end now.”
I smiled as I thought about everything that had happened since we had arrived in France together.
“What are you grinning at?” Sean asked.
“I was just remembering you in that Goofy suit—now that was class.”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. The things you make me do, Scarlett—no one else would have got me to do that.”
“You didn’t have much choice, if I remember rightly. It was that or walk back across the park soaking wet.”
“No, I mean you seem to uncover things about me that even I don’t know exist.”
Sean was lying close to me on the carpet, propped up on one elbow with his head resting in the palm of his hand. He pulled himself up, so his face was level with mine.
“I’m sure that’s not always a good thing,” I said jokily, while at the same time trying to persuade my stomach that it was supposed to be resting not performing today, as it began one of the complicated routines it did when Sean was this close. I attempted to stand up and move away from the dangerous feelings beginning to engulf me once more. But Sean caught hold of my hand and pulled me back down. We were even closer now.
“It is a good thing, Scarlett,” he said, toying with a strand of my hair that had come loose from my ponytail. “Believe me—it is.”
Our faces were just millimeters apart now—but this time I didn’t try to get away. As Sean’s lips gently brushed mine with the lightest of kisses, I closed my eyes, allowing all the feelings I’d wanted to experience earlier but hadn’t allowed myself to surge through my body. Then there was a tiny pause as I felt Sean pull away. I was about to open my eyes to see what was wrong, but then I felt his lips on mine once more. This time, though, all his initial politeness had gone; his kisses were now more passionate, more urgent.
I felt his fingers firmly caress the nape of my neck as he tried to pull me closer. And I let him—I wanted this to happen—I’d wanted it since…
When had I started to feel this way about Sean? A couple of weeks ago I’d thought the only reason I half liked him was because he happened to resemble a couple of my favorite movie stars, and now here we were virtually rolling about in a hotel room together. No, forget the virtual; we now were actually rolling about, as Sean moved onto his back and pulled me down on top of him.
Our lips parted for a moment.
“Scarlett,” Sean said breathlessly as he pushed my hair, which was fast becoming extremely tousled, back off my face. “I’ve been wanting this to happen for so long.”
“Have you?” I asked in a matter-of-fact way that was not in keeping with the passion of the moment at all.
Sean didn’t appear to notice. “Of course, even before we came to Paris, before the wedding, before David, before…”
I froze when he said David’s name.
What was I doing lying here on top of Sean? Hadn’t I just said earlier that I’d been stupid to take a chance on someone else when I’d already got a man who loved me waiting at home? And now look what I was doing. This had to stop—immediately.
I jumped up, hurriedly backing away from him across the room. “I’m sorry, that shouldn’t have happened. I…I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
Desperately I tried to smooth my wayward hair back into its band. At least I could control that if nothing else.
Sean propped himself up on his elbows. “But why…” he said, looking completely bewildered. “I thought you felt the same way about me as I feel about you. Isn’t that what the whole Eiffel Tower thing was about? I don’t understand—what’s wrong?”
I paced about the room in a dramatic fashion.
“Nothing’s wrong—for you, but it is for me. I’m engaged, Sean—I’m supposed to be getting married at the beginning of April, for goodness’ sake.”
Sean pulled himself up so he sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of me. He looked composed again now. “You must know what I think about that.”
“I can probably guess, but you don’t know the whole story.”
“Perhaps not, Scarlett, because there’s always something more going on than meets the eye where you’re concerned. But maybe you could listen to me for one moment, let me state the facts as I see them.”
I nodded. I had little choice.
“OK then.” Sean took a deep breath. “One—even before you met me, you were more than happy to leave your fiancé behind for a month and charge off to London to house-sit a stranger’s home. Just to prove some silly notion you’ve got about movies and real life. This, I would suggest, would seem unusual to most people.”
I listened silently, trying to look anywhere except at Sean.
&
nbsp; “Two—all the women I’ve ever met that are getting married never stop talking about it, especially in the run-up to the big day. You hardly ever mention your wedding or have anything to organize for it. How does that work?”
I opened my mouth to point out that was the whole point of having a wedding planner, but Sean continued with his interrogation.
“And three—for some reason I can’t understand, you appear to be marrying someone who you have absolutely nothing in common with, who doesn’t seem to excite you that much, and most importantly, doesn’t even make you that happy.” Sean folded his arms. “There, how does that all sound to you? It hardly adds up to the romance of the century.”
“Do I get to respond now?” I asked indignantly.
Sean nodded and leaned back against the end of the bed to await my defense.
I sat down on the chair by the desk. It didn’t feel right to go on standing while Sean remained on the floor. But I still didn’t trust myself to get down to his level again.
“First, Sean, I thought you understood why I came to London for a month and why the cinema is so important to me.”
“No, Scarlett, I don’t really understand,” Sean said with a shrug of his shoulders. “You’ve never really explained why you want to prove this to your family, only that you’re trying to do it.”
He was right, of course—as always. I’d hidden my real thoughts and feelings from the start. “If you want the full version, Sean, it’s a long story.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere—are you?”
I still felt too high up on the chair, so I knelt down opposite Sean on the carpet. But this time, I kept a safe distance between us.
I told him all about how my life was usually. My boring days in the office with Dad, David’s and my DIY disaster zone of a home, and how the only way I could find any romance and excitement in my life was through other people’s fictional lives at the movies. I then explained that David’s parents were not only paying for our wedding but, with the assistance of the wedding planner, doing most of the organizing too. Which at the time of our engagement I’d happily agreed to, so long as I got to choose my own dress for the big day. Then I told him my feeling that there had always been something missing from my life, and how this, and the chance to do something different for a month, had made me jump at the opportunity of getting away from everything and everybody for a while.
“So?” I asked when I’d finished recounting my tale of despair. “Now do you understand why?”
Sean thought for a moment. “It ties up a few loose ends, yes.”
Loose ends? I’d just about told him my entire life story!
“But what it doesn’t explain, Scarlett, is just why you’re marrying David.”
“Because I love him, of course.”
Sean tipped his head quizzically to one side. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really,” I said defensively.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it’s true,” I said, folding my arms and turning my head away like a sulky teenager. “I do love him.”
“I’ll accept you think you love him.” Sean narrowed his eyes. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”
“No.”
“Hmm…now what could it be?” Sean said, pulling himself up on to his feet. It was his turn to pace the floor like a detective in an old black and white movie trying to solve the mystery at the end of the film, while I sat tight-lipped on the carpet watching him.
“Stop this, Sean,” I said eventually, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room while he thought. “Why does there need to be something else? Why can’t I just love David, and that’s that?”
Sean turned and raised his eyebrows at me. “You forget—I have actually met David.”
“That’s not fair; David is a good man.”
“I don’t deny it. But that’s not what’s in doubt here, Scarlett.” Sean rubbed at his forehead. “Oh, what is it…what is the missing link to all this?”
Sean was right—again. There was something else, but there was no way I was going to tell him what it was.
“Got it!” Suddenly he clicked his fingers and spun round. “Scarlett,” he said, looking accusingly at me. “Surely it can’t be true—can it?”
“What?” I asked suspiciously, as Sean began to pace around the room again.
“You told me David’s family owns a chain of cinemas, right?”
I nodded reluctantly.
“And you and your father’s business is popcorn…am I getting warm?”
“Popcorn machines,” I corrected.
“OK, popcorn machines, so am I seeing a little business opportunity coming your way if you marry into this vast family of movie theaters?”
I tried to appear unfazed.
“Am I right, Scarlett?”
I got up and walked over to the window. I couldn’t let him know how close he was.
“Well?” Sean asked again. “Am I?”
I spun round. “Yes,” I snapped, “you’re right. Happy now?” I swung back toward the window again.
I felt Sean’s hand on my shoulder. “Scarlett,” he said, his voice now soft and calm. It was as though he had been playing both parts of a good cop, bad cop routine in the last few minutes. “You can’t marry someone just because you think he might give your father’s business a bit of help.”
“It’s not just a bit of help,” I said, turning to face him. “If I marry David, our popcorn machines will be in every cinema foyer in David’s group. Do you have any idea just what that would mean, Sean? Their chain is not only one of the biggest in this country, but in Europe too. Dad would be made for life.”
“But what about you, Scarlett?” Sean said, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. “Will you be made for life if you marry David?”
I couldn’t bear to look at Sean as I answered him. My eyes dropped away from his down to the floor. But I had to make him see that it was what I really wanted.
“I’ll be settled and in a happy, stable relationship,” I said, raising my head and lifting my chin. “With a man who loves me and won’t let me down.”
“That definitely isn’t you talking now.”
“It is me talking, Sean—this is what I want.” I could feel myself beginning to build momentum now. “Anyway, you wouldn’t understand. Dad built up this business from nothing. He had to work so hard just to keep it going and look after me when I was small.” I stopped to think about Dad for a moment. Something I hadn’t done enough of lately. “He’s given up so much for me over the years, and now it’s time I gave up something for him.”
“What, your freedom?” Sean asked, raising his eyebrows.
I stared at him as coldly as I could.
“So I take it your father doesn’t know about this…this business merger of your souls then?”
“No, he doesn’t, and don’t call it that. Dad likes David, and he’s happy I’m marrying him. Anything else will just be a bonus once we’re wed as far as he’s concerned. And David’s not callous if that’s what you’re thinking either. It just happens his present supplier’s contract runs out after the wedding, and he mentioned it would be a good opportunity to unite our families.”
Sean looked skeptical.
“Anyway, you’re supposed to be the hot-shot businessman—I thought you of all people would approve.” I half turned away and folded my arms defiantly.
Sean shook his head. “I deal with property and companies that are in trouble. I buy and sell commodities, Scarlett—I don’t deal in people.”
I turned my head back and this time when I stared coldly at Sean I meant it. I could feel tears beginning to well up inside my eyes. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall.
“That fact, Sean, has been all too apparent since I met you, I’m afraid.”
Sean’s whole body tightened as his face drained of color.
But he’d asked for that—suggesting I was selling my soul and all his
other clever analogies. “And now, I’m going to go to bed—before one of us says something we may regret, even more than what’s already been said and done in this room tonight. Good night, Sean,” I said, walking to the door. I turned back briefly to look at him.
Sean was facing the window again, so I couldn’t see his expression.
“Good night, Scarlett,” he said coolly. “Sleep well, won’t you? If your conscience will allow you to, that is.”
Twenty-Six
The atmosphere on our journey back to London the next day was muted. When we did speak to each other we were polite and civil, but we only conversed briefly on subjects that were necessary to our journey home—like flight times, taxis, and luggage allowances.
When we finally reached Notting Hill, Sean paid the taxi driver and then, without asking, carried my suitcase to the top of my steps.
“Will you be all right from here?” he asked, choosing not to make eye contact with me.
“Yes,” I said, suddenly feeling very self-conscious in his presence. “Thank you, Sean, not just for the case—I mean for coming with me this weekend, helping me with my mother and everything.”
“Not a problem. If that’s all?” He walked back down the steps, pausing at the bottom to look up at me.
I couldn’t think of anything more to say, so I smiled at him half-heartedly.
“See you later, Scarlett,” he responded with a tight smile. But it was the “see you later” that meant “see you around some time” rather than “I’ll see you very soon,” and immediately the thought that I wouldn’t be seeing Sean later on today, or even at any time in the near future—other than perhaps on these very steps, as we happened to enter or exit our houses at the same time—filled me with sadness.
Sean sprang up the steps to his own house and quickly disappeared through the front door with his suitcase. Despondently I unlocked the door to my temporary home. It felt cold and empty as I walked inside.
Even Buster’s wailing seemed subdued as I swiftly silenced him, picked up the post, and made myself a cup of tea. I spent most of the afternoon and evening sobbing, as I sat and watched every film that I could think of containing a touching or tear-jerking scene that Belinda and Harry had in their vast collection.