Page 22 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

But a card feels woefully inadequate after the flowers he sent. Obviously, the flowers are spendy, and by comparison, I don’t have any sort of budget for a grand gesture. Or even a medium gesture. However, I do like to make things.

And so I go upstairs to my tiny flat and retrieve a felt flower I made as an experiment. A smaller one will fit inside the envelope if I squash it, so I do and it fits. Before I can think about it any longer, I seal the card. On the envelope, I carefully write Blake’s name. When I do, a thrill runs up my spine, leaving me in goose bumps. Like he doesn’t even need to be present for my body to respond.

Shaking my head, I put the card aside and find the blank contract. With a deep breath, I sign the papers and stuff them into an envelope. God, I hope I don’t regret this. But the idea of helping save the shop, helping Mum, and the promise of seeing Blake again is too much to pass up.

…

At seven the next morning, I’m full of second thoughts when I’m startled awake by a sharp rapping on the front door. After throwing on clothes in record time, I hurry downstairs.

Sun streams through the shop’s paned glass door. I meet Alice Rutherford, flanked by her crew, at the entry to the shop. Bleary-eyed, this is no sort of hour for any normal human. I haven’t even put on the kettle and had my first cup of tea yet to make the day civil.

I unlock the glass door and push it open with its usualsqueakand ringing of bells.

They all hustle in past me. A woman with green hair eyes the bells critically, reaching up to silence them.

Yesterday evening after the catch-up with Lily, I dropped off the contract and card with the film’s security people. The guard recognized me from before and only grumbled a small amount about being asked to drop the envelopes off for me, which he seemed to like better than me going in to hand-deliver the pair of envelopes without an invitation.

Privately, I must confess I—or some small part of me—was hoping he would bin everything. Then I would have tried and failed and life would move on.

However, when I sent the note to Alice stating she could come by anytime to talk about logistics, I didn’t expect her to turn up at the crack of dawn, raring to go. So much for writing daft things because apparently people take them quite literally when I was just being polite.

Does that mean Blake got his card? Oh God. What have I done?

“Good morning, Aubrey,” Alice says brightly, handing me a coffee as soon as I’ve opened the door to her. Behind her, the city awakens with the hum of traffic snaking past. “I’ve brought you a vanilla latte. Extra hot. And also my backup. Right on schedule.”

She glances at her watch with approval.

I flip on the overhead lights with a wince. “I take it that you received the updated contract, then.” I stand back as a crew of five take over, all purpose and clipboards and tape measures, already snapping photos on phones and having animated discussions. They gesture and wave hands and take notes. They even pause to take a photo of me, where I doubtless look wide-eyed and startled, perfect for a murder wall on some crime show.

“Yes, I did. Thank you. Did you get my text about the seven a.m. start? This place is so perfect.” Alice beams, gazing around. At the moment, everything’s still in order as it should be. “We’re delighted.”

I blink, my mind still muddled. Text? I sip the coffee in a desperate attempt to wake up enough to process the conversation. “There’s no bookshop murder, is there? In the film?”

“I’ve told you, it’s a rom-com.” Alice pats my arm reassuringly. Her ponytail swings. “And it will be good. You’ll see. The actors are excellent and we have a fantastic crew. We have a few scenes to shoot in here.”

“Afew?”

“Oh yes. There’s the meet-cute, for starters. And the romantic leads bumping into each other again.”

I’m not entirely sure what she’s on about, except this all feels a bit too close to home. Well, it’s literally my home, I suppose. And far too close to what passes for my regular life.

“I see.” Which I don’t, but I don’t want to confess that either.

“If you sign an NDA, I’ll even let you have a peek at my script,” Alice says generously.

“NDA?” It sounds like some kind of punk band, but I don’t think that’s what she means. Some lawyer thing, I think. Eli would be useful on this point.

If only I had my tea. I swallow a mouthful of coffee. Too hot as it sears on the way down. On the other hand, I’m definitely wide awake now.

Alice laughs with delight. “A non-disclosure agreement. Where you are sworn to secrecy about not revealing what’s happening here. I mean, you’ll need to sign one anyway today.”

“Another contract?”

“Oh yes, we have plenty of them. But don’t worry. We also have excellent insurance coverage. Any damages will be covered.”

“You expect damages?” Oh no. “I didn’t agree to damages.”

“We don’t plan on any. But it’s always a risk. And we’ll put everything back exactly as it is when it’s done.”

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