by A. L. Brooks
Carmen’s laugh was more like a sharp bark. In the dark mirror of the window, Tamsyn could see her stand and walk slowly over until they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Look at me, Tamsyn.”
She didn’t want to. It was all going to unravel if she did. But Carmen’s hand tugged her arm, and her feet willingly moved even as her brain tried to stop them.
“Tamsyn,” Carmen said softly, once Tamsyn was facing her. “Stop lying. To me, to yourself, and to the memory of Maggie. Admit it: that no-strings deal went out the window after about day three, didn’t it? When you left her that last night, a part of you broke, didn’t it?”
It hurt. She’d buried it so deep all these months, living only on the surface of herself, that it was a yawning chasm once it sprang open. She didn’t have to speak to answer—the tears falling down her face said it all.
Tamsyn slept fitfully, and when dawn broke, she gave up and quietly made her way to the kitchen in her pyjamas. Carmen’s bedroom was farther down the hall than Tamsyn’s own master suite, but even so, she kept her movements light while she made coffee, thankful that the machine didn’t spit and scream like some she’d used.
She cupped the warm mug in her hands and sat at the dining table, her gaze on the sea, which was calm and grey this early in the morning. After stumbling into bed beyond midnight, Tamsyn had merely lain in the dark, eyes wide open, a confusing welter of thoughts and emotions spinning through her mind and body. Her rational, self-preserving brain told her to ignore Carmen’s theories, but the rest of her, the part that had cried at the thought of all she’d missed by not continuing to see Maggie, had held the upper hand in the darkness.
And it was doing so now, even in the cold light of day.
Could she do it? Start dating women, publicly, and to hell with the consequences? Fear and temptation mixed in a strange cocktail in her stomach. As Carmen had rightly pointed out last night, it wasn’t as if Tamsyn was short of money, so even if by some chance work did dry up completely, she’d still be okay. And she had to admit that Carmen was also right when she said it was highly unlikely the work would dry up. She’d lived with that fear for so long that she’d almost not realised just how successful she was, how lauded her skills were. Of course the work wouldn’t dry up completely. Yes, it might tail off for a while as people reconfigured who Tamsyn Harris was by this one nugget of her personal life changing, but she would always work, as long as she perhaps made a few compromises on the kinds of role she played.
“Any more of that in the pot for me?” Carmen croaked from behind her.
Tamsyn turned and smiled at her. “I’ll pour you a cup.”
Carmen flopped onto the sofa, her cream towelling robe pulled tight around her as she snuggled back into the cushions.
“Did I wake you?” Tamsyn asked, contrite.
“No, not at all.” Carmen waved a hand in the air. “Just my brain wouldn’t quite shut off all night.”
“I know what you mean,” Tamsyn murmured, walking to the coffee pot and filling a large cup for Carmen before retrieving her own half-empty drink from the dining table.
“I bet. Did you sleep at all?” Carmen managed through a loud yawn.
“A little.” Tamsyn passed Carmen her cup, then joined her on the sofa.
“Thanks, honey,” Carmen said, clinging to the cup as if it held all the answers to the universe. She moaned after her first sip. “Oh, yeah, I needed that.”
Tamsyn smiled and slowly drained the last of her own drink.
“So,” Carmen said after a while, her voice tentative. “How are you feeling?”
“I…I’m not sure, to be honest.” Tamsyn sighed. “Confused. Scared. Tired. And I don’t just mean physically.” She met Carmen’s eyes. “Tired of working so hard to protect myself when maybe I don’t need to worry so much about that anymore.” She blinked a couple of times. “I think a lot of what you said last night was right, about how I’ve become so obsessed with not ruining my career. Maybe I need to start thinking about how much happier I might be if I could be free to live my personal life exactly how I want to, believing that my career is probably only going to take a small hit and if it does, it’s not the end of the world.”
Carmen smiled widely. “Does that mean I need to talk to Tony about setting up a coming out interview?”
Tamsyn stared at her. “Already?” she squeaked.
Laughing, Carmen patted her on the thigh. “Not today, no. Look, when you’re back in London, let’s meet with Tony and think about the timing, the strategy. I mean, I guess it partly depends on how soon you want to get in touch with Maggie again.”
Tamsyn’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”
Carmen stared at her. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘get in touch with Maggie again’?”
Carmen’s eyes went wide. “Well, you have to, don’t you? Tamsyn, you can’t not try to see if you two can have something. Look how much she meant to you in the space of a few days. You’d be a class A idiot to not even try to find her and see if she still feels the same way about you as you do about her.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tamsyn exclaimed, but even as she said it she knew. It was one of the reasons the tears had fallen last night and why she hadn’t been able to sleep properly afterwards. It was why her hands were trembling now while her heart thumped so hard it was a wonder Carmen couldn’t hear it.
“What did I say last night about stopping lying to yourself?” Carmen said, her voice gruff. “God, lots of people would give their right arm to have the kind of connection you talked about having with Maggie. Me included,” she said, jamming a finger into her own chest. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glistened in the weak morning light, and suddenly Tamsyn knew that all Carmen’s talk over the years of being happy to be single and having the entire playing field at her mercy was a load of crap.
“Carmen, I—”
“Don’t. It’s okay.” Carmen took a deep breath. “But it’s not okay for you to give up on this so easily. She wrote a whole fucking book about how much you meant to her, for crying out loud.”
“You don’t know that!” Why was it so much easier to think of Maggie as a gold-digger who’d only used their story to make a few bucks?
“Tamsyn, get real,” Carmen said, exasperated. “If that isn’t the most romantic gesture in the world, I don’t know what is. And you don’t think that’s worth pursuing, given how you feel about her too? And don’t tell me you don’t—it’s written all over your face even now.”
Knowing it was silly, Tamsyn pressed her fingers to her face, as if she could feel the evidence of what Carmen was talking about. Because having to admit it out loud, saying the actual words, seemed too momentous. She’d never let herself feel what she was experiencing now, and if she kept it inside she’d be able to…what? Protect herself?
Or, more likely, keep living a lonely life that didn’t make her happy.
She exhaled slowly. “I… This has never happened to me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I know.” Carmen shuffled closer to her. “And I know that’s scary, but please, don’t walk away from Maggie before you find out what you two might have.”
“But how?” Tamsyn threw her arms up in frustration. “How the hell would I find her even if I wanted to?”
Carmen glared at her.
“Okay, okay,” she mumbled. “I want to.”
“Yes!” Carmen fist-pumped and grinned before squeezing Tamsyn’s arm. “Well, the only contact we have for her is her publisher, right?”
Tamsyn nodded, watching in amusement as Carmen tapped her chin, her eyes narrowing, her cog wheels apparently turning at full speed now despite the early hour.
“So,” Carmen said, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth, “I’m sure an author would be very keen to meet with a film production company who were
interested in dramatising one of her books, wouldn’t they?”
“Film prod—”
“Mickey over at FilmLight owes me a huge favour. Huge.” Carmen’s grin was positively feral.
Chapter 18
“I do like this tradition we’ve started,” Ruth said as the waitress held her chair back for her. She slipped into her seat, murmured a “thank you” to the young woman, then smiled at Maggie. “So much better as a Christmas present than a gift box of Oil of Olay.”
“Definitely.” Maggie grinned as she glanced around. The restaurant, one of the hip places to be seen at these days, was packed, as she would have expected two weeks before Christmas. “And I am so glad we thought of this back when we did, otherwise I don’t think we would have got a table.”
“Oh, yes.” Ruth took the menu the waitress handed her and flipped it open.
They ordered champagne to drink before their meal, and Maggie’s heart did that little flip it seemed unable to stop itself from doing every time the subject came up. Tamsyn. She wondered where she was right now, what she was working on, who she was with. Maggie was still avoiding any coverage of her on the internet or in the press—every picture she saw left her weak with memories and sad for what had never been.
“You okay?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, why?”
“You drifted off for a moment.”
Maggie shrugged and smiled. “Just soaking up the atmosphere.”
Ruth looked as if she was about to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. She raised her glass and they toasted a “Merry Christmas” to each other.
“Yum,” Ruth said, placing her glass carefully on the table before picking up her menu again. “So, what are we having?”
Once they’d placed their orders, they chatted easily. Maggie had always loved a night out with her sister, especially as they happened so rarely. Their tradition of a posh meal out together rather than buying each other things they really didn’t need had started two years previously and was an instant success they’d promptly repeated for their respective birthdays. Each time they picked a new fabulous restaurant to try, and each one had been amazing. This one already looked like it was going to outclass them all.
“Is it true lots of famous people come here?” Ruth was trying hard not to look too eager, but Maggie chuckled as she craned her neck to look around the room. Her observations were brought to an abrupt end by the arrival of their starters. “Oh, yes,” she breathed, reaching for her cutlery.
Maggie grinned but tucked into her own food with equal alacrity. When they’d finished, after each sampling the other’s dish, of course, Maggie excused herself to the ladies, leaving Ruth to resume her search for famous people. When Maggie returned, Ruth’s eyes were wide and she motioned Maggie down into her chair with an excited hand.
“Do not look round until I tell you,” she hissed. “But Tamsyn bloody Harris just walked in and is sitting…”
The rest of whatever Ruth said was lost in the rushing sound that filled Maggie’s head, the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears, the sudden dampness of her palms.
“Didn’t you used to have the biggest crush on her when we were teenagers?”
“Um—”
“I always remember you having posters of her on your wall, and Mum looking at them in horror every time she came in.” Ruth laughed. “She knew back then, didn’t she?”
“Knew what?” Maggie was distracted, trying so hard not to look over to where Ruth had surreptitiously pointed out Tamsyn’s location.
“That you were gay. Hey, Earth to Maggie?”
Maggie blinked. “Sorry, what?”
Ruth tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She stared at Maggie for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, God, you still have a crush on her, don’t you? And I’ve completely freaked you out by telling you she’s in this room, right now.”
Relieved at being given an easy ‘out’, Maggie smiled. “Yes,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t blush, “you have.” It wasn’t a lie; Maggie was utterly freaked out knowing Tamsyn was sitting not more than fifty feet away. She wanted to look, was desperate to look, but at the same time was terrified. What if she looked, and Tamsyn acted like she didn’t know her? Or worse, looked like she didn’t even remember her?
“Aw, my big sister with the big crush.” Ruth smiled gently.
Maggie chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, okay, you can stop laughing at me now.”
Ruth smirked. “Why? Takes all the fun out of things.”
Rolling her eyes, Maggie reached for her wine and was relieved that her hand was steady as she grasped the glass and brought it to her lips.
“Are you seriously not going to look?” Ruth looked confused, her forehead creased into a small frown.
Maggie swallowed the smooth Chardonnay and was thankful she didn’t choke on it. “No, I’m not. I can see her on TV any time I like.” God, could they not just talk about something else?
Ruth snorted. “Not the same! Come on, how many chances in life do you get to see someone that famous in the flesh?”
Maggie’s chest pounded, and now she knew she was blushing. Tamsyn in the flesh was something she remembered all too well. How her skin felt beneath Maggie’s exploring fingers, how her lips and tongue fit so perfectly with Maggie’s when they kissed. How she tasted.
She shifted in her seat and took another gulp of wine. Ruth lifted her head, craning for another long look across the room, over Maggie’s head.
“Will you stop?” Maggie hissed, now seriously agitated at her sister’s behaviour. If Tamsyn spotted her…
“Relax,” Ruth muttered before looking back at Maggie. “She’s deep in conversation with some woman. I can’t tell if they’re someone famous too because they’ve got their back to me.”
Okay, maybe one look then, if Tamsyn was that focused on her dinner companion. Slowly, Maggie turned her head, as if needing to rub at the back of her neck, and glanced over her shoulder. Tamsyn looked stunning, fully glammed up for the evening. She was wearing something in a rich cream fabric, dress or top Maggie couldn’t tell from here, with gold jewellery shining in the lights of the restaurant. Her hair was coiffured into a high pile on top of her head, with elegant loose strands framing her face. Her make-up was flawless and her skin was practically glowing. She looked nothing like the woman Maggie knew, the woman who wore a beanie jammed onto her head when she went for a walk, the woman who turned up for dinner with zero make-up or jewellery and looked so much more a real person as a result. As much as Maggie had crushed on this glamorous version of Tamsyn all these years, it did nothing for her now. Not compared to the real Tamsyn.
Maggie looked back round at her sister, having seen all she needed to see. She schooled her features as Ruth grinned at her.
“Yes, she is just as beautiful in real life as she is on the screen,” Maggie said to her sister’s questioning look.
“I’ll say. I wonder how much work she’s had done though, to still look that good at her age?”
Maggie bristled, itching to leap to Tamsyn’s defence but knowing she couldn’t. To her relief, the waitress saved her by delivering their main courses, and it was easy to switch the conversation to their food, and plans for Christmas, until Tamsyn Harris was forgotten, and Maggie’s heart could return to its normal rhythm.
“Are you okay, Tamsyn?” Jennifer asked, a small frown marring her otherwise perfect face.
“Hmm?” Tamsyn pulled her gaze away from the woman on the other side of the restaurant, the woman she had been convinced, for a moment at least, was Maggie. “Sorry, yes, I’m fine. What were you saying about Christmas?”
Jennifer rattled off her oh-so-dull sounding plans and Tamsyn pretended to listen, injecting the appropriate ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ in the right places. Her mind, however, was still on that glimpse from a minute ago. The woman had been scratching
her neck, her head turned in profile but for such a short span of time that Tamsyn’s brain hadn’t quite connected all the dots before she turned away again. Now all Tamsyn could see was the back of her head, blonde hair pulled up in an elegant style that showed off a delicious line of neck. But was it Maggie’s neck? And if it was, what the hell did Tamsyn think she’d do about that? Whoever the woman was, she was having what looked like an intimate dinner with someone she was very familiar with. Still pretending to listen to Jennifer, Tamsyn cast furtive glances at the women. They were friendly, that much was obvious. But was it a date? It had been eight months since Tamsyn had seen Maggie; there was every chance Maggie had started seeing someone in that time. Tamsyn’s stomach churned, her appetite diminishing as the seconds ticked by. Wouldn’t this just be the biggest kick in the teeth—finally deciding to contact Maggie to see if they could resurrect what had happened between them, and then facing up to all that would mean for herself, but discovering Maggie had moved on? Of course, she had every right to; it wasn’t as if Tamsyn had given her any reason not to.
She wanted to scream but did what she was world-class at—masked her features, kept herself professional, and left her turmoil to seethe beneath her calm exterior. She managed to finish her food—even though it sat like uncooked dough in her stomach afterwards—and graciously accepted Jennifer’s thanks for the evening out.
“My pleasure,” Tamsyn said, “and the least I could do after you loaned me the villa last month. It’s a wonderful place.”
“Any time, Tamsyn, darling.”
They stood and walked to the door to retrieve their coats. Jennifer’s car was already waiting out front, her driver/bodyguard standing before it, arms held loose at his side, eyes scanning the area. Tamsyn wanted to glance back one more time, to see if that woman was still there, to see if she could get a proper look at her, but she was distracted by an excited shout from a few paces away.
“Oh, my God, you’re Tamsyn Harris!”
The wide-eyed woman was already scrabbling for her phone. She snapped off a couple of shots as Tamsyn plastered on her best superstar smile.