Write Your Own Script

by A. L. Brooks

  When they’d finished eating, the girls sprinted back to the living room to watch Shrek, and the adults opened a bottle of Sancerre dessert wine to accompany the tarte au citron that Maggie had made the night before.

  “This is sinful,” Tamsyn said as she polished off her last mouthful.

  “Mmm,” Ruth managed around her own last bite, and Will chuckled.

  “Ruth’s favourite,” he said. “Which I’m sure is deliberate on this one’s part.” He pointed at Maggie.

  Maggie shrugged and grinned. “I have to keep everyone happy. You got the traditional turkey, she gets the dessert.”

  “What about me?” Tamsyn demanded, a mock-offended look on her face.

  “You get Maggie,” Ruth quipped before Maggie could respond.

  Maggie blushed deep pink and Tamsyn roared with laughter.

  “Perfect. I get the best of what’s on offer,” she said, smiling warmly.

  Maggie wanted to kiss her, but they had yet to have the discussion on public displays of affection, so she settled for smiling back just as warmly, and hoping her eyes were conveying everything she was feeling in the moment. Tamsyn’s soft blush told her she might have been successful.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Ruth said as Tamsyn carried in the tray of empty coffee cups from the living room. Ruth had her hands in the sink, washing the crystal-cut wine glasses they’d used over dinner. “It’s my job to clean up if she’s cooked, and vice versa if we’re at my house.”

  “I don’t mind.” Tamsyn put the tray on the counter, pulled open the dishwasher, and started loading the cups into the top drawer. “I like to help, and many hands make light work, as my mum used to say.”

  “Don’t you have staff to do that sort of thing normally?” Ruth asked, and Tamsyn wasn’t sure what she heard in her tone. Resentment? Accusation?

  “Er, no, actually. I live alone. I have a cleaner who comes in once a week and a driver on call but that’s it.” She tilted her head at Ruth’s sceptical expression. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m not quite that rich—or pretentious.” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, trying to lighten the moment, “Don’t believe everything you see in those trashy newspapers and magazines.”

  Ruth’s eyes blazed, and Tamsyn knew her attempt to be frivolous had backfired. “I don’t actually read any of that crap. But you have to admit you are in a significantly better position in life than my sister, aren’t you?”

  What? Where was this coming from? Knowing she had to ride out this storm, whatever its origins or purpose, Tamsyn took a deep breath and said, “Ruth, do you have concerns about me being involved with Maggie?”

  Ruth seemed taken aback by Tamsyn’s directness and blinked rapidly a few times before replying. “Well, yes, actually, I do.” She peeled off her washing up gloves and turned to face Tamsyn properly, her stance rigid, almost aggressive.

  Tamsyn willed herself to present as relaxed, even though she was anything but on the inside. “Then please, ask me anything. It’s very important to me that I be accepted by Maggie’s family. I need you to believe that. And that I have only the best intentions where your sister is concerned.”

  “Then why aren’t you out yet?”

  “Oh.” She might have guessed. “That.”

  “Yes, that. Maggie trusts you when you say you’re going to do it, but when exactly is this in your plan? A few months, a year?”

  “I don’t know when exactly.” She rushed on, raising a hand when Ruth made to interrupt. “I have a meeting soon with my PR manager and my agent to discuss the best strategy and timing. But please,” she leaned forward slightly, infusing her words with as much sincerity as possible, “believe me when I say that I want to do this sooner rather than later. I will not have Maggie hiding who she is, who we are.”

  “I can’t help worrying about her,” Ruth said, although her tone was slightly softer now. “You’ve waltzed into her life with all your fame and money, and I don’t want her to get hauled through the mud for being your partner.”

  “Trust me, that is the very last thing I want. That’s why I’m working as fast as I can to get the story out my way. I want to protect Maggie from the worst of the circus that surrounded Harewood’s outing yesterday. She’s far too special to me to risk ruining her life for it all. I want a life with her, a long life, if she’ll have me,” Tamsyn said, her passion leaking into her voice, “and so I will do everything I can, spend every last penny I have if needs be, making sure she is not damaged by her association with me in any way. I also want her to be a part of the decision and process of me coming out, every step of the way, because it affects her so much too.” She took a deep breath as her voice wobbled. “I will never, ever intentionally hurt her, Ruth. You have my word on that.”

  “Ruth, what’s going on?”

  Tamsyn turned to face Maggie, and Ruth shifted beside her.

  “We’re just—” Tamsyn started, but Ruth cut her off.

  “I’m being an over-protective mother hen,” she said, and placed a hand on Tamsyn’s forearm.

  Tamsyn turned to face her, smiling at Ruth’s rueful grin. “I think you’re allowed,” she said quietly.

  Ruth sighed. “Thanks. But I’m sorry if I overdid it.”

  Maggie walked over and slipped her arm around Tamsyn’s waist. It felt wonderful, natural, something Tamsyn didn’t think she’d ever tire of.

  “Did you kick her ass?” Maggie asked.

  Tamsyn snorted, and Ruth chuckled. “Nah, I thought I’d save that for later.”

  “Hah,” Ruth said, her eyes sparkling, “like you could take me.”

  Tamsyn eyed Ruth up and down, took in the slightly sturdier frame, the defined arms—How did she get those and how can I do the same?—and grinned. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s just drink more champagne, okay?”

  Laughing, Ruth patted Tamsyn’s arm again, then turned back to her washing up. “Let me finish this and then you are on, Ms Harris.”

  Maggie pulled Tamsyn gently away.

  “You sure everything’s okay?” she asked quietly as they neared the door.

  “Totally.” Tamsyn smiled at her. “She really does just care so much about you. It wasn’t even personal, not really. More about my situation and position in the world. She doesn’t want you dragged through the mud, but now, hopefully, she realises that’s the last thing I want too.” She glanced back; Ruth was focused on her work. Dropping a quick kiss on Maggie’s warm lips, Tamsyn breathed in the scent of her and her senses flooded with calm. “And I realised something, in talking to Ruth. I’d like you to be involved in the decisions I make with Tony and Carmen about when and how to come out, okay? This affects you just as much as it does me.”

  “You sure? I mean, I trust you to do the right thing but—”

  “Please, I want us to do this together. I think it’s important. For now and for, you know, any future we have.” She swallowed hard.

  Maggie’s smile made her heart lighten and her stomach turn cartwheels.

  “Thank you,” Maggie whispered, and laid a proper kiss on her that made Tamsyn swoon.

  Much later, curled up in each other’s arms in Maggie’s bed, their heart rates finally slowing after the thumping, simultaneous orgasms they’d just given each other, Tamsyn glanced down at Maggie and smiled.

  “I had the most wonderful day today.” She kissed Maggie’s nose. “Probably the best Christmas I’ve had in about twenty-five years.”

  Maggie’s face registered her shock. “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yes,” Tamsyn mused. “As soon as my career took off, my life changed so much. Then Mum died, and although Dad and I tried to keep it as normal as possible, things just started getting in the way.” And now, of course, her dad could barely remember who she was. “So, thank you.”

  She kissed Maggie again, never tiri
ng of the feel of that mouth on hers. Maggie held her tight, and returned the kiss with vigour.

  “Now,” Tamsyn said when they parted, “I have a crazy idea about New Year’s Eve, if you don’t already have plans?”

  “Nope, no plans.”

  “Good. How do you fancy Paris?”

  Maggie’s eyes went wide. “Paris?” she squeaked.

  “Uh-huh. I booked this ages ago, for myself, as a little escape at the end of the year that didn’t take me too far away from where I’ll be shooting. I have a rather lovely room booked at Le Meurice from the thirtieth through to the second of Jan. If you could get a flight sorted that quickly for yourself, would you like to join me?”

  Maggie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I would love that, Tamsyn.”

  Tamsyn’s heart swelled. “I’ve never shared New Year’s Eve with anyone other than friends. This will be a secret fantasy come true.” Her throat was tight. “We can have dinner somewhere, watch fireworks somewhere else, drink champagne, do whatever you like.”

  Maggie lunged up and kissed Tamsyn, hard and deep, and Tamsyn’s entire body throbbed in response. Then they were off again, into the space that contained only the two of them, the space that was all about heat, and lust, and tenderness. The space that filled Tamsyn with deep emotion, with…love. The word should have terrified her, should have made her want to slam her shields back into place, but it didn’t. Now it excited her, made her want to laugh and cry all at the same time because for the first time in her life she knew what all the fuss was about. And she was so glad she’d figured it out. Better late than never. And then she stopped thinking altogether as Maggie’s tongue swept a hot trail down her belly.

  Chapter 25

  Maggie sat back and stretched her arms upwards, easing out the stiffness in her back. A glance at the clock made her chuckle.

  No wonder I feel like I’ve been put under a press. I’ve been writing for three hours solid.

  She stood and did some more extensive stretching, using the edge of her desk. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, even if she wanted to. The new book was roaring along—she’d started it about ten minutes after Tamsyn had left on Boxing Day, suddenly itching to be sat in front of her MacBook, a blank Scrivener page in front of her, waiting to be filled with words. The idea for the book had been building for a while, characters forming themselves into solidity in her mind, settings popping in to be scribbled in her Moleskine. As soon as she’d had the house to herself again, she’d made a large pot of coffee and headed for her study. She hadn’t resurfaced for four hours, until Gizmo’s almost frantic whining for an outdoors visit finally pulled her out of her zone. She’d never been so absorbed in a story; something about working in a new genre, perhaps, or even just crime drama, where all the connections between events and the clues that should be laid down like a trail of breadcrumbs had to be thought through so carefully.

  Since then, her days had been following a set pattern: three to four hours writing in the morning, long walk with Gizmo in the afternoon, and in the evening, a long phone call with Tamsyn—who was out in the middle of the very cold Cotswolds, filming a segment for the TV drama she was starring in. They wouldn’t actually see each other again until they met in Paris.

  In the kitchen, she found Gizmo curled up in his basket in the corner, Snakey wrapped around him like a shield. He’d been out of sorts since Boxing Day, and Maggie couldn’t help but wonder if he missed Tamsyn as much as she did. Her bed was awfully lonely without that beautiful woman wrapped up beside her. As much as their long calls in the evenings delighted her, they didn’t compare to actually being in Tamsyn’s presence, and being able to hold her, and kiss her.

  Tomorrow, she reminded herself. Tamsyn would arrive first, and had promised to have the champagne chilling and room service ordered so they could simply enjoy each other that first night. Maggie couldn’t wait.

  She took Gizmo for a long romp in Richmond Park that afternoon, then dropped him round at Ruth’s for his extended stay while she was away.

  “Everything ready for your weekend?” Ruth asked as they sipped tea in her kitchen, the sounds of Anna and Ellie arguing over who was going to cuddle Gizmo first coming to them from the living room.

  “Pretty much. I’ll pack in the morning. My flight’s not until three, but I want to write again in the morning too.”

  “Oh, yeah, the new genre! How’s it going?”

  “It’s going amazing,” Maggie whispered, scared to say it too loudly in case she jinxed it.

  “I’m so pleased for you. When can I read it?”

  Maggie was surprised; as far as she was aware, Ruth didn’t read a lot and certainly hadn’t ever mentioned reading any of Maggie’s previous works.

  “I know, I don’t read much, but that’s not for a lack of wanting to. Those two,” she thumbed in the direction of her children’s giggles, “run me ragged most days. The book I’ve got by the bed I started two months ago and I’m only halfway through.” She snorted. “I get into bed, read three pages, and then Will’s waking me up taking the book off my face and switching out the light. But, when I do read, I read a lot of crime, so, you know…” She shrugged and inhaled a deep breath. “If you’d like someone who knows a bit about the genre to cast an eye over it and give you an honest opinion, I’d be more than happy to do that. In fact, I’d be honoured.” She blushed, and her hands twitched on the table in front of her.

  A rush of affection swept over Maggie, and she reached across and clasped Ruth’s arm. “No, I’d be honoured to have you read it. I would love that. I’ll email you the first three chapters I’ve written when I get home later. They’re rough draft, remember, but maybe you could at least see if I’ve got the right ‘feel’ going, yes?”

  Ruth nodded, her smile wide. “Definitely. I’m really looking forward to it. And I will make time for it—maybe I need to get better at letting those two fend for themselves more when I need ‘me’ time.”

  Warmth spread through Maggie. It seemed as if her recent decisions were having some rather lovely, if unexpected, consequences, and not only for herself.

  The next day, as she sat on the plane waiting to taxi to the runway, she thought back on those moments with her sister, and a big smile broke out over her face. Her phone pinged with a text message from Tamsyn:

  Room 504! Can’t wait to see you. T x

  Maggie grinned, and quickly fired off a “Me neither” response before she got told to switch her phone off.

  The flight was uneventful, the taxi ride less so. She exited the cab in front of the hotel and gazed in awe at the grand building. The opulent lobby left her speechless and she barely resisted the temptation to stop and gawp.

  Jesus, I am so glad I dressed up a little for this trip.

  It had been an issue, deciding what to wear to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself—or Tamsyn—during their stay at the five-star palace. In the end she’d foregone her usual comfy travelling jeans and worn dressy black trousers instead, with her leather coat, rather than her bright red hiking jacket, over a smart shirt. On the one hand, it was nice to dress up for something this special, but on the other, she was distinctly out of her comfort zone, and very glad when she found the lift. She pressed the button for floor five and exhaled a long, slow breath.

  Tamsyn couldn’t relax, despite the luxury of her surroundings. She was tired from the long hours they’d put in this week, and still smarting from the way things had unfolded with Lesley, who had tried to contact her again, once. Tamsyn had ignored the call, not ready to get into it again.

  Underneath that fatigue, too, was the dull ache of feeling that a big part of her was missing and would be put back together the minute Maggie walked through that door. She’d texted from the airport to say she was in the queue for a cab, so she couldn’t be too far away.

  Tamsyn busied herself checking that the champagne was still crisp
ly cold—it was—and that the food platters that had been delivered a few minutes previously still looked delicious—they did—and told herself for the tenth time to just bloody relax.

  It was so hard. She’d missed Maggie so much, and wanted to spend so much more time with her, especially now her shooting schedule would ease off soon. She’d be required in the studio for most of January, but that was always far easier on her middle-aged body than the location days. God, the Cotswolds had been bloody freezing!

  A knock at the door made her heart leap into her throat, then chuckle at herself. Teenager.

  She swung open the door and there she was, her beautiful Maggie, looking simply stunning in a long leather coat that Tamsyn hadn’t seen before.

  “Hi,” Maggie whispered, her smile huge.

  “Hi back.”

  Tamsyn reached for her, pulling Maggie in by the lapels of her coat, and casting a quick glance up and down the corridor to make sure they had no audience.

  Once Maggie was past her, she shut the door and turned round, ready to swoop this glorious woman into her arms and kiss her until—

  Maggie was glaring at her, hands clenched at her sides, mouth set in a tight line.

  “Maggie?” Her voice cracked with worry.

  “What the hell was that?” Maggie said through gritted teeth.

  Tamsyn scrambled through her memories of the last minute and came up empty. “What?” She kept her tone soft, not wanting to antagonise Maggie any more than she already—clearly—had.

  “Checking behind me as I came in,” Maggie snapped. “Way to make me feel like your dirty little secret.”

  Tamsyn blinked, then realised what Maggie was referring to, and implying. Oh shit.

  “Maggie, I’m so sorry. I… It’s…necessary. Just for now,” she added quickly, holding up her hands as Maggie’s eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed. “Please, come in, sit down, and let me explain.”