Page 75 of Never Date a Celebrity

“Eve, please. Slow down,” Amelia yelled as she put the accelerator to the floor. Oof. Twenty miles per hour did feel fast through the bumpy field. Bumpy was an understatement. It was downright turbulent. And those hills. Amelia was pretty sure they made the cart exceed its twenty miles per hour limit—she felt like a rally driver.

Amelia almost broke character as she watched Bridget’s cart wobble in front of her.

And then, seconds later, there was a mammoth bump. Huge. A bump-zilla. Like Amelia had actually hit something which caused her cart to wobble so much more than Bridget’s had. Before Amelia knew what was happening, the whole thing was tipping over.

It felt like slow motion. Like minutes had passed between bump and disaster. In reality, the whole thing had probably happened in about four seconds.

Once the cart fell, everything went very still. There was an intense ringing in her ears. She wanted to cover her ears to try to mute the ringing, but for some reason she couldn’t. That was when Amelia noticed that she was sore. She wasn’t sure where, but there was pain searing through her body. Ow. Whatever that was, really hurt. Amelia thought she could make out voices, but they were muffled. Like she was listening to them underwater or something. There hadn’t been water in that field, had there? A lake or something? The voices got closer. There were three or four different ones.

“Amelia!”

“Amelia, are you okay?”

“Can you hear me, Amelia?”

“Holy fuck, Amelia. What the hell have you done?”

Amelia was sure she recognised that last one, but when she tried to figure out who it was the voices began to fade away, and the blue sky that she had been staring into went completely dark.

“Emergency cheese order at the ready,” Songbird Sally said cheerfully as she rushed into the Wishing Well swinging a stripy cloth bag by her side. “And fresh veggies for stew too.”

Imogen could have kissed her. “You are a lifesaver, Sal. I owe you one.” It was a tad inconvenient that they had managed to run out, but it was also a good problem to have. Word of mouth was a great advertiser, and the pub on everyone’s lips right now was the Wishing Well. Okay, not everyone, but certainly some people’s. They had even made a modest profit during the past fortnight—enough to replace some of the most worn chairs and the ricketiest tables. Imogen put their newfound busy-ness down to gaining a good reputation, Niamh’s obsession with their online advertising, and Piper’s Halloween transformation that was the talk of the village. An honourable mention had to go to Amy too, because there wasn’t a day that some of the film folk didn’t come in. None of the big stars, much to Piper’s and Niamh’s dismay, but plenty of the crew and the extras. Still, it hurt to think about Amy right now, so Imogen tried her best not to. Not unless she was alone anyway—then she did nothing but think. To mourn what she wasn’t brave enough to keep. But she had work to do so Imogen mentally gave Amy her credit and moved on.

“You do not owe me a thing. But now that I’m here, you girls can whip me up one of the mixed platters with all the trimmings. Mel’s finishing up a balayage and then we’re going to eat delicious food, drink a glass of wine, and gossip about everything we’ve seen on the main street this week. You know what? Give me a bottle. Fresh Picks is closed for the day, so I figure I might as well make a head start.”

“It would be a shame not to,” Imogen replied, putting on a smile for Sally’s benefit. Genuine happiness had been in short supply that week. “Red or white?”

“Meet me in the middle and give me a rosé,” Sally said with a wiggle of her well-shaped, white eyebrows.

“See, I always forget about the compromise.”

“A sin. Leave my tab open,” Sally called over her shoulder with a wink, as she sauntered off to find a vacant table.

Imogen passed on the platter order along with the bag of cheese to Niamh, who was currently on food duty. The three of them had a rotation system on the go—one did food, one did drinks, one cleaned up. They also had an unofficial competition to see who could make the prettiest boards. A contest that was beneficial to all, really. They each upped their game, the customers were always served something spectacular, and it was fun. Win win win.

After Imogen brought Sally two glasses and her bottle of rosé—a preference that she would remember to offer next time—she returned to give Niamh a hand at the little food station they had set up when platters had become a thing. The pub was having a bit of a lull and Imogen didn’t like to stand idle. It gave her too much time to think. They could set up the order together and declare a temporary truce in their competition.

Piper had disappeared upstairs to hoover and polish both of their apartments—Piper’s idea. They had been spoiling sad Imogen with kind acts like that all week. Kind acts that she wasn’t sure she even deserved. Her sadness was all her own doing after all. But she could probably go out and murder someone and her friends would still offer to rub her feet after. She was lucky to have them.

“Heard anything from her today?” Niamh asked while she attempted to turn a slice of ham into a flower.

There was no need to elaborate on who Niamh meant. There was only one person Imogen was both dying and dreading to hear from. “Nope. Can’t say I blame her though.” Imogen had been distant, to say the least. And she despised herself for it. She kept trying to focus on the positives. To pull herself out of her dark hole of fear. But fear had a funny way of dragging you down. “I don’t know why I ever thought I could date her in the first place after I found out who she was. I should have walked away then—it might have been easier.” Probably not. Walking away from someone you loved was never going to be easy, was it? Especially when they were practically perfect and the hangups were all your own. It was a wonder Amy wanted her in the first place.

Niamh began to unwrap the cheese. “Is that what you’ve decided then? To walk away?” There was no judgment in her voice. No insinuation. Just wholehearted care and curiosity.

Imogen sighed, because no, she didn’t want to. But… “How can there be a future when I clearly can’t let go of my past?” It was the question that Imogen kept coming back to. Over and over.

“You can’t be in a relationship you aren’t comfortable in,” Niamh said, giving her a gentle look.

“I am comfortable with Amy though. That’s the problem. I’m more myself with her than I have ever been with anyone—except you guys obviously. But her too.”

“So don’t walk away then,” Niamh said. Like it was as easy as that.

“I might have to, Niamhey. Whether I want to or not. I’m trying not to run, but…” Imogen covered her face and let out a pretend sob. “I don’t know what to do. I need some kind of sign or something.”

A loud crash came from upstairs and Imogen and Niamh both looked up at the ceiling. Footsteps thundered above them, growing louder as they raced down the stairs.

“There’s been an accident,” Piper shouted breathlessly as she burst through the door behind the bar.