Page 122 of Valentine Nook
She nods. “Yes. It really is. On Broadway. My name will be in lights.”
“Where it belongs,” I tell her, though my excitement deflates slightly. “New York isn’t far?—”
“No, it’s not.”
“Is that the bad news? New York?” I grin. “It’s not that bad.” My words peter off when another tear falls down her cheek.
“My schedule for the press junkets has been brought forward a month.”
“Okay . . .”
“I have to leave the night of the Fall Ball.”
I don’t know what to say, and I feel like I’m missing something, which probably comes from me knowing absolutely nothing about the movie industry. I don’t want her to leave early, but then I guess all it means is she’ll return sooner.
“Okay, how long is a junket? A week? Can you come back after?”
“They’ll take me up to mid-December. Because I won last year, the studio wants to push me out more.” Her lips mash and twist.
“Six weeks isn’t so bad.”
“After that, award season begins again, and it’s going to be busy.Intense.I’ll be traveling...”
From the way she’s chewing her lip again, I almost don’t want to ask. “How long is award season?”
“Finishes mid-March.”
“March?” That’s five months away.
Half an hour ago, I had seven weeks to figure out what to do when Holiday left. Now I have three weeks before she’s gone for five months. A month ago, I was of the decision that when she left, we’d have to say our goodbyes, but I’ve long changed my mind. I don’t care about living life on a plane.
I have a plane. I’ll make it my office. I’ll put a better bed in it.
“I have to be back in London for BAFTA. That’s in February.” She shrugs, plastering on another one of those fake smiles I hate. “Wanna be my date?”
Taking a deep breath, I slide closer to her and wipe my thumb across her cheek to remove another tear. “I wouldlove to be your date. I’ll be your date to anything you ask me.”
Watery blue eyes flick up to mine. “Really? All of them? Even the American ones?”
“I’d be honored, and the rest we’ll figure out. It won’t be that bad,” I say, hoping I sound more convincing out loud than I do in my head.
“You think?”
I nod. “Do you still get Christmas or New Year?”
“I’ll be with my family for Christmas,” she says quietly.
“New Year, then.” I smile at her, trying to make it as reassuring and genuine as possible. “We’ll figure it out. Remind me how long the show will be on Broadway?”
“Six months total, three for rehearsals, three for the show. Ends in September.”
I do a quick mental calculation. It’s October now. Over the next eleven months, Holiday will be free for a total of one month, plus a few snatched days here and there. There’s no way to sugarcoat it—the situation is shit.
“Well,” I begin, “we’ll have to get really good at phone sex then, won’t we?”
The corners of her mouth lift with a weak smile.
“And don’t forget, I have my own plane, ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
