Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Now, however, my flat seemed … empty. An interior designer had made it look cool and chic. There was expensive modern art on the walls, unique pieces of furniture. It was a Tribeca loft but with a ton of color and art.
The midcentury chaise sofa was the comfiest piece of furniture in the place, and I was curled up on it with a glass of wine while sweat stuck the hair to the back of my neck. A fan blew in the corner, but it did little to stave off the London summer heat that had built up over the days inside the brick building. And AC wasn’t a thing in most residential homes here. I vaguely wondered if AC was a thing in Romania. Gawd, I hoped so.
My suitcases were laid out in my bedroom, and I’d packed what I hoped were enough clothes for the three months of filming.
Three months.
A wave of homesickness crashed over me.
Not for this place. Not for this beautiful piece of art that would never feel like home.
But for Ardnoch.
For Lewis and Callie, Mum and Dad, and my wee sister Morwenna who was growing up while I missed it.
For Fyfe.
My phone buzzed and I snatched it up, accepting the call. I was hoping for a video chat because I missed Fyfe’s face, but I understood when I heard the hum of traffic in the background.
“Are you driving?”
“Aye, just coming back from the city. How are you?” Fyfe’s deep rumble of a voice was like ocean waves. The rhythm of it soothed me.
I sighed, feeling better for having him on the other end of the line. The last few days had been a shit show. “I had to hand over my social media accounts to my management team today.”
“What happened?”
“I posted a photo this week of me hanging out with friends on my roof terrace here and …” I squeezed my eyes closed, still seeing the comments in my mind’s eye. “I can’t take it anymore. I try to let the comments roll off my back, but I can’t. Every time I think I have a handle on it, I realize I don’t. I’ve decided to let someone else deal with it so I don’t have to see it anymore.”
“What kind of comments?” Fyfe’s voice was sharp.
“Fyfe—”
“I can easily check, you know.”
“Well, we reported some of them.”
“Jesus. Eilidh, what are they saying?”
“Young Adult is back at number one on the streaming platform and there’s this whole new audience finding us. They’re not happy my character cheats … I’ve been threatened with physical and sexual violence on my social media.”
All I heard was the humming sound of his vehicle on the road.
“Fyfe?”
“I’m trying not to lose my mind. Give me a second.”
His concern warmed me. “I’m okay.”
“They’re threatening you over a fictional fucking character, Eilidh. That’s insane.”
“I am aware. That’s why I handed it over so I don’t have to see it or deal with it.”
“It was the right decision.” I heard his heavy sigh. “Please tell me you’re safe.”
“Aye. I’m safe.”
“Does your family know?”
“After we reported the comments, we switched them off. I haven’t heard from my family, so I doubt it. Please don’t tell them. They don’t need to worry any more than they already do.”
“Maybe if you started talking to them about all of this, you’d feel better. They know something is up with you, Eils.”
I winced because it was true. There was an emotional wall between me and my family. I wasn’t quite sure how it had sprung up between us or how I could pull it down. “I need to figure some things out first. Once I do, I’ll be more open with them.”
“Well, at least keep talking to me.”
“Of course.” I smiled, wishing he were here with me. “How has your day been? Why were you in the city?”
“Uh … just … you know.”
My stomach dropped. “I didn’t interrupt a date, did I?”
“Aye, and thankfully. I wasn’t in the mood.”
Ignoring the jealous churning in my gut, I forced out, “Why? Has something happened?”
Fyfe was quiet for a moment and then, “If I tell you, will you keep it between us?”
“You know I will.” It seemed to be all we did these days. We were each other’s confidants. Being the person Fyfe could talk to made me feel more special than any award or accolade ever could.
“Innes, my mother … she showed up at my house this morning.”
Hearing the seething anger in his voice, I braced myself. “What happened?”
“She changed her name, has been sober for six years, lives in the Lowlands, and is married to a woman who has a daughter from a previous marriage.”
What the heck? “Fyfe …”
“She wants the house. Her mum’s house.”
Fury lashed through me in an instant, my cheeks turning hot with it. “What?”
“Says they’re having financial problems and she wants to give her stepdaughter a good life. Wanted the house so she could sell it for the money, I suppose.”