Page 40 of Never Date a Celebrity

Imogen laughed. “I read a lot, and I do use an e-reader.” She approached the bookcase where Amy was standing and scanned her collection. “But if I read a book I really like, I order a physical copy to keep here. And then I reread them as soon as they arrive and again whenever I need something familiar.” Though Imogen did like the feel of a book in her hands too, so maybe that meant that she was old school. But the e-reader was so convenient.

“Comfort reads—I like that. Alright. Let me try again.”

Imogen held out a hand for her to go ahead.

Amy scanned the room some more. “Okay, I’ve got something. The couch.” Amy pointed to it. “It’s facing the window.”

“So?”

“So, you have a TV over there.” Amy held her hand out to showcase where Imogen’s TV sat on top of a drawer unit at the side of the room. “And only the single-seater chair faces it. Your couch is tilted toward that window. So, either you prefer the single seat—which I doubt because all your stuff is on the coffee table beside the couch—or you would rather spend your lounging time looking outside than staring at a screen. I’m guessing it’s the second one.”

Imogen tilted her head from side to side. “I’m not sure I can give you that one.”

“Why not?” Amy asked with feigned indignance. “Is it not true?”

“Well, yes, it’s true. But you had an upper hand because you already know I love the outdoors, and I’m sure you gathered from our conversations that I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

Amy stared at her for a few seconds and narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Maybe I used my previous knowledge to my advantage.”

Imogen grinned. “Exactly. But I suppose if you didn’t already know that about me, then the sofa thing might have been a good giveaway.”

“It so woulda,” Amy said. She sighed loudly. “One more chance?”

“Of course. I’m enjoying your assessments.” Imogen had never considered that her space said much about her, but she could see how it could give some insight if someone looked properly.

Amy concentrated. She took her time walking around the room. “These plants are another indicator that you love the outdoors and had to have a little piece of it in your home. But I know I can’t use that one.” More slow steps. “It is tidy. Everything has a place. Which tells me that you like to be organised, but I’m sure I can do better than that.”

“Basic stuff,” Imogen teased her. In truth, the observation was a good one. Imogen did like to be organised. But she also wanted to hear what else Amy had to say about her.

“A-ha!” Amy stopped at the shelving unit on the wall and looked back at Imogen like the cat that got the cream. “You’re sentimental.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so.” Amy picked up a framed picture of Imogen with her family and set it back down again. “And not because of the photos, which are really cute, by the way. Your family looks lovely.”

“Thank you,” Imogen said, glancing at the picture Amy had been looking at. It had been taken at her most recent birthday dinner. They always tried to get a photograph of the whole family together whenever they met up for occasions—especially because there were only a handful of days in the year where they all managed to convene in the same space. It felt wrong not to document them in some way. “If not the photos, then what?”

Amy held up another photo of Piper, Niamh, and her at a concert. “There’s a ticket stub in this one that you held onto. You wanted to remember this night.” She carefully put it back and pointed to an ornamental dog. “This is an antique. I’m guessing it’s probably been in your family for a while rather than something you picked up from a store.” She paused and kept looking. “And there’s this cup—it has a crack down the side. It must mean something to you.” Amy glanced at her in question.

“It’s my mug from Clover—the insurance place I worked before. It didn’t survive the move,” Imogen explained.

Amy grinned. “But you kept it anyway, which proves my point. I’d also hedge a guess that you have something from your childhood stashed away somewhere. A stuffed animal or a blanket maybe.”

Imogen held up her two hands. “Guilty as charged. My childhood teddy, Champ, sleeps on my nightstand.” Sometimes in her bed too, but she refused to admit to that. Though Amy probably already knew—she had been spot-on about everything else. The concert ticket, the dog. If she looked harder, she would also find an old plane ticket from her favourite trip to Italy, and a badge from her twenty-first birthday. Imogen liked mementos. “You’re good,” she said.

“I told you I was,” Amy said proudly. “Sentimental Imogen.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Amy walked toward her and gave Imogen a soft peck on the lips. “A good thing, definitely. Sentimental, organised, family-orientated, outdoorsy, old school. There’s a lot of great stuff packed in there.” She ran her hands down Imogen’s arms and interlocked their fingers, before leaning in for another kiss, lingering longer this time.

When Amy pulled back again with that heart-melting smile of hers, Imogen felt like she was floating on a cloud of happiness. She had previously wondered if it was going to be awkward tonight. The two of them, alone, in her apartment. No outside distractions. No activities to focus on. Just the two of them, interacting, their connection under a microscope of seclusion. But the comfort factor that had been evident between them from the start was only growing stronger.

Amy’s quiet confidence helped. The way she could walk right up to Imogen and kiss her like that with no preamble. Like it was her right to do so—a right that Imogen was only too happy to hand over. But it was something else too. They were so naturally at ease with one another, like only two people who were truly meant to be in each other’s lives could be. Imogen was a firm believer that people came into each other’s lives for a reason. Sometimes it was for a short time, and sometimes it was forever. As for the reasons why—they varied. Sometimes it was to teach some kind of lesson—she’d certainly been there. Other times, it was for friendship or companionship. And once in a blue moon, it was romantic. Two people who were supposed to find each other because they were simply meant to be together. An inevitability.

Which category did Amy fall into? Only time would tell, but there would be a reason they’d met. Imogen knew that much.

“Do I smell food by any chance?” Amy asked, squeezing her hand gently.