Page 83 of Mistaken Impression

I get to my feet, looking over to the kitchen, where Mac is staring at me, looking confused. I follow Gavin, and as we approach, Mac steps away from Vivian, moving closer to me.

“Is something wrong?” he says.

“No,” Gavin replies, not giving me a chance to speak. “But our genius culinary consultant here has just pointed out a mistake in the script.”

“Oh?” Mac gazes down at me, raising his eyebrows.

“It was just that I noticed Vivian’s character has a line about the weather turning colder, and I realized that by the time the show airs, it will be later in the year…”

“And will already be cold,” Gavin says, completing my sentence. “We’ve amended the script, just removing the word ‘turning’.”

Mac reaches over, taking Gavin’s pen from his pocket, and changes his script, while Vivian goes to get hers from the countertop, and brings it back. She hands it to Gavin, and he takes back his pen and crosses out the word, while Ruby looks down at her clipboard.

“The actress playing Abigail is called Maya Larson.” She glances up at Gavin. “If you send me the revised script, I’ll forward it to her.”

“Thanks.” He hands Vivian back her script, replacing his pen in his pocket, and then nudges in to me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Neither do I.” Mac’s words take me by surprise and I spin around, gazing up at him. He’s smiling down at me, but I can’t smile back. I don’t feel like I know where I stand with him anymore… not that I really understood it before, but nowI feel like I’m wading through quicksand, even though I’m not moving.

“If that’s it, I guess we should all head home. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” Ruby steps away from the group and Gavin follows. Vivian seems to want to hang around, but Ruby calls her and she reluctantly goes with them… and as everyone else has already left, Mac and I are alone.

I ought to feel relieved about that, but instead I just feel nervous.

“Are you okay?” He steps closer, reaching out to me, but I move away.

“I’m fine. We should probably head home.”

I wonder about suggesting that I go back to my place… alone. I could do with some space to think; but we’ve already got dinner at his, and I don’t want him to see through my insecurities again. That’s all they are, and I’ll get over this… I’m sure I will.

I head back to the table, gather my things and shrug on my jacket. Mac follows, pulling off his apron, which he drops over the back of a chair, and then he clutches up his script and his iPad, and puts on his coat before he follows me from the room in silence.

On the way down in the elevator, I can feel his eyes on me, but we’re not alone, so we don’t have to make conversation or worry about being in a confined space together.

When we get to the car, I open it, and as we both climb in, he turns to face me. “What’s wrong, Ella?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

He sighs and I sense he doesn’t believe me, but he opens his script and buries his head in it while I drive us back to his place, wondering if I can use that as an excuse to go home after we’ve eaten. He’s got lines to learn and having me under his feet won’t help…

I park my car outside his apartment block and get out before he can say anything. He climbs out, too, looking at me over the top of the car, although he still doesn’t comment and we enter the building together. He moves toward the elevators, while I go for the stairs, and he coughs, drawing my attention.

“Don’t you want to take the elevator?”

“No, thanks.”

I put my foot on the first step, and he joins me, still not saying a word as we climb up to the top floor. He spoke yesterday about there not being any tension between us anymore, but right now, you could cut it with a knife… and it’s all of my own making.

He lets us in, waiting while I enter the apartment ahead of him, and then closes the door behind us. I feel the tension mounting, but I don’t know how to start a conversation with him. I can’t think of what to say. Instead, I head for my refuge… the kitchen.

Maybe cooking will help me relax, and I find a large pan in the cabinet and put it on the stove, just as Mac grabs my shoulders, spinning me around.

“We need to talk.” His voice is deep, his eyes concerned, and my stomach lurches. He doesn’t wait for me to reply, but takes my hand and pulls me over to the couch, sitting me in the corner and flopping down alongside me. Then he turns, facing me, still holding my hand in his. “Tell me what’s wrong, Ella. Is it something I’ve done?”

“Kind of.”

He nods his head. “Was it because I agreed with Gavin when he said he didn’t know what he’d do without you? Was that going too far in front of everyone?”

“No. It’s nothing to do with that.”

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