Page 47 of Never Date a Celebrity

“I’m fine,” Imogen managed. She cleared her throat. “Hey, can I see that picture again?” Not that she was in any doubt whatsoever about who it was. Imogen would recognise those green eyes and that perfect smile anywhere—and they didn’t require airbrushing.

Piper looked confused but turned the phone back around.

Imogen studied it again. “Are there any more?” It was funny how the human mind worked whenever you really didn’t want to believe something. The evidence was right there in front of her. It was unmistakable. But Imogen needed more in order for it to fully sink in.

Piper scrolled through another few pictures, each one reconfirming what Imogen already knew. “What is it?” Piper asked.

Imogen finally let out a sigh of resignation. “It’s Amy.”

“Amy? What about Amy? Is she in the picture too?” Piper turned the phone back around to look again, but she wasn’t going to see anyone else because there wasn’t anyone else.

“She is the picture,” Imogen said.

“She…” Piper’s eyes suddenly went so wide, Imogen feared they might pop right out of her head. “Amy is Amelia Whitlock? Amelia Whitlock is Amy? Your Amy?”

“Apparently so.” How could she have been so stupid? Seriously? It wasn’t even that surprising when she stopped to really think about it. Amy—sorry, Amelia—constantly looked like she had stepped right out of a magazine. She was only in Ireland because of the goddamn film. Yeah okay, Imogen knew that she worked in the industry, but Amy had never actually told her exactly what she did. Not really. All she had given was some wishy-washy explanation that Imogen had naively lapped up and deciphered how she’d wanted to. Maybe she’d heard what she had wanted to hear. And how wrong she’d been.

Come to think of it, Amy had always dodged the topic of her work when they got onto it. That should have been a sign right there. And then there were the fancy cars. The expensive hotel she was staying at for months. The long-ass workdays where she was totally out of reach. Jesus, it was so obvious when Imogen turned it all over in her head. And come to think of it, she’d seen Rory and Jonathan the morning she met Amy for their first date. She’d bet that’s when Rory and Jonathan had seen Amy too—they’d been deep in discussion when Imogen had passed them.

When she looked up Piper and Niamh were both staring at her like she had just informed them that she was secretly a billionaire. With a mixture of awe and blatant shock.

“You’ve been dating Amelia Whitlock?” Niamh said slowly, like she was also trying to take it in.

Imogen nodded. “It would seem that I have been. Yes.”

“And you didn’t know?” Piper asked in utter amazement.

“Nope. Hadn’t a clue.” The joke really was on her, wasn’t it?

Niamh started to frown. “And she didn’t tell you?” she asked, anger creeping into her tone. Which Imogen appreciated, because, no, Amy had not fucking told her that she was Amelia Whitlock, very well-known actress—to most people, anyway.

“No, she didn’t.” Rather than anger, disappointment settled into Imogen’s chest. Amy had been hiding the truth from her all along. And Imogen had fallen for it—God, she was probably a complete laughing stock. Was this what Amy did? Roll into different places and deceive unwitting women? Pretend she was someone else, and date them for a while to entertain herself while she was in town? Then disappear back to her glamourous life without a care in the world? It seemed a bit far-fetched for the woman she knew, but then again, Imogen didn’t really know Amy at all, did she?

“Well, that’s incredibly shitty,” Niamh said in disgust. Then she looked at Imogen and softened. “Are you okay? What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean what’s she going to do?” Piper asked, perplexed. “She’s dating Amelia Whitlock. Immy might just be the luckiest person in the world.”

“She lied to her, Piper. It doesn’t matter who she is if she’s a liar.”

“I mean, doesn’t it?” Piper lifted her eyebrows. “We’re talking about Amelia Whitlock here, Niamh.”

Niamh glared at her. “No, we’re talking about our best friend Imogen here, Piper. Who has just been led up the garden path by someone totally dishonest.”

“You’re right,” Piper said, holding her hands up and relenting immediately. “I’m sorry, Immy. I got a bit carried away for a minute.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think there’s a manual for how to handle your best friend unknowingly dating a Hollywood star.”

Piper grimaced. “And it’s only just dawned on me now that that’s basically your worst nightmare.”

Imogen let out a humourless laugh. “It’s up there, yep.”

The door to the pub opened and they all looked around.

Imogen’s stomach dropped.

As if her day hadn’t turned surreal enough, there she was in the doorway of the Wishing Well, rain clinging to the shoulders of her coat. Amy. Or, should she say, Amelia Whitlock. Hollywood star. Liar.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Amy froze when their eyes met, her expression caught somewhere between fear and regret, and they just stared at each other across the empty bar.