Page 91 of Let’s Make a Scene

I wish it didn’t sting so much to know that’s how Cynthie sees me. Part of me wants to tell her the truth. So much of my life is a lie, a performance, and with Cynthie there have been moments where all of that has fallen away. I wish I could tell her how I feel. I wish we could cut through all the bullshit between us, but I don’t know where to start.

Outside the cinema, there’s a wide strip of red carpet in front of the backdrop printed with the name of the film in the stylized calligraphy that appears on all the promotional materials. I watch as Simon makes his way slowly down with his date, stopping every so often in front of the gaggle of photographers, lined up behind another barrier.

“Wow, there’s more of them than I expected,” Cynthie manages.

“I know.” Lorna gives her big, alligator grin. “All the press you two did really paid off.”

When Simon finally reaches the other end of the carpet and disappears inside the cinema, Suzy scuttles down after him, holding up a card with our names printed on it.

The interest from the photographers kicks up a gear, and Lorna practically shoves us out there, with a whispered hiss of “Remember, you’re in love.”

Cynthie’s hand tenses in mine, but we walk out, smiling wide. When we reach the first place where we’re supposed to stop, Cynthie steps into me, and my arm slips around her waist, pulling her tightly into my side. I don’t feel panicked now, but I do feel sick and empty, sort of gray. I smile like it’s the best day of my life.

“Jack! Jack! Cynthie!” the photographers shout, flashes bursting in front of my eyes, leaving behind stars at the edges of my vision.

My hand splays on Cynthie’s stomach, and the slip of her silk dress is cool under my fingers.

“Give us a kiss!” one of the photographers yells, and the shout is picked up by some of the others. “Kiss! Kiss!” they chant.

I watch Cynthie’s eyes widen a fraction and my hand tightens on her waist. I dip my head toward hers and something flares in her gaze. I don’t have time to decide if it’s lust or panic, before I drop a kiss on the end of her nose.

When I pull back, Cynthie looks up at me, delightfully befuddled, and then she laughs that great, husky laugh of hers that’s like a shot of top shelf whiskey, and the cameras flash like mad. Everyone loves it; they can’t get enough of us.

We look adorable, I know. Lorna is going to be thrilled. We look like we’re totally in love.

We’re such good actors.

NOW THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

Chapter 29 CYNTHIE

A week after the gala, it’s the first day of rehearsals and I can’t believe I’m here: back in England, back at Shepperton Studios, and stepping back into a world I left behind thirteen years ago.

As I enter the rehearsal room, the atmosphere is edgy. Most of the cast are already here, and there’s a swirling mix of nerves and excitement in the air.

“Cynthie!” Simon greets me with a kiss on each cheek. “Who’d have thought we’d be here again.” Still handsome in an aristocratic way, with his straight teeth, slightly receding hairline and bluff cheeriness, Simon looks like a lost member of the royal family. Small wonder I heard a rumor he was in consideration for The Crown spin-off.

“Hi, Simon,” I reply with a smile. At least I know I’m more than capable of covering up the nerves I feel. There’s a lot of weighing and measuring going on right now, and I’m not stupid—I’m the focus of a lot of attention.

I knew Jack was here the second I entered the room, even before I saw him. Somehow I knew. He’s currently hugging an incredibly well-preserved Hattie Prince and laughing at something she says, and the sound of his laugh, rich and deep, hits my bloodstream like an illegal substance. He hasn’t spotted me yet so I can let my eyes linger on him the way they want to.

I haven’t seen Jack since the night of the gala, and I’m overwhelmed by an inappropriate desire to go and throw my arms around him. I’ve spent a lot more time than I’m comfortable admitting thinking about seeing him again, wanting to see him again. Then I remember that everyone thinks we’re together and I don’t have to pretend I’m not happy he’s here.

“Excuse me for a sec,” I say to Simon.

I make my way over to Jack and tap him on the shoulder. When he turns, his eyes light up and he reaches for me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, pulling me up into his arms and hugging me tight so that I’m laughing as the toes of my trainers skim the floor, and he presses a kiss to my temple.

“I didn’t see you arrive,” he says.

“Just got here,” I reply. “Hi, Hattie.” I try not to look ruffled as I emerge from Jack’s embrace and move to greet her.

“Hello, darling girl.” She looks from me to Jack and her smile grows. “I always hoped the two of you would work things out. You make such a lovely couple.”

I feel myself stiffen at that. I thought Jack was just happy to see me, but maybe he’s been putting on a show for an old family friend. After all, we agreed that no one outside our immediate circles would be in on the truth.

His face doesn’t offer any clues—all I see when I look at him is a relaxed sort of pleasure, but then I know better than anyone what a good actor he is.

God, this is confusing. I’m fully aware that our relationship is pretend, but there’s a lot of stuff going on that feels frighteningly, exhilaratingly real.