Page 133 of Valentine Nook
If that hadn’t been the case, then I wouldn’t have been in England.
And we all know what happened in England.
Most of all, I need someone to blame for falling in love with Lando when I had no business doing anything of the sort.
My eyes burn, and the heaviness in my chest presses down until I almost can’t breathe.
“But,” Marcy begins, “I do have some news you might be interested in.”
I swipe away the moisture and assess her through narrowed eyes. “Go on.”
“The paperwork hasn’t been signed yet onHot Tin Roof, so it’s my duty to tell you another request has come in. The budget isn’t as big, and it’s for two months instead of three?—”
Using the heel of my palms, I rub against my temples. I thought she was going to tell me something good. But two months is still two months, add in rehearsal time on top of that, and it may as well be a lifetime. It doesn’t solve anything.
“The director is Hamish McTaggart. He won the Tony last year for that play on Broadway about R.B.G. He’s super hot right now.”
I nod. I saw that play, and it was good. But I still don’t see what the point of her telling me is.
“And it’s playing at the Donmar Warehouse.”
My ears prick, though I’m still too focused on my own self-pity and broken heart to immediately realize what she’s saying or its implications.
“Holiday, are you listening to what I’m saying? The Donmar Warehouse is in London.”
Oh my god. She’s right. “Are you saying there’s a play in London that wants me?”
“Yes.”
“When is it starting?”
“Rehearsals in April, again. Same timeframe.”
“I’ll take it.”
Marcy’s lips purse. “I haven’t even told you what it is.”
I don’t tell her that I don’t care. It could be a revival of Barney with me dressed as a purple dinosaur dancing on stage every night, and I’d take it. BecauseLondon.
“What is it?”
“Shakespeare,Twelfth Night.”
It feels like forever since I laughed, but I can’t help myself. I’m transported back to The One True Love and the little table in the corner where Shakespeare may or may not have written one of his plays—maybe it was this one. The other thing that flashes in my brain is Agatha Chase telling me she’ll see me soon.
Perhaps she was onto something.
“Shakespeare is perfect.”
“I had a feeling it might be, and after that, there’s a potential movie to begin filming next November. A legal drama, location Europe but predominantly London, which I trust will also be suitable.”
That’s nearly a year of being in England. Yes, more than suitable.
Rounding the counter, I wrap my arms around Marcy and hug her tight. The pressure in my chest has vanished, and my tears have finally dried up, replaced by the biggest smile.
“Give me a pen and I’ll sign right now.”
The next few weeks of press suddenly seem like a breeze to get through, and I’m already coming up with a plan to beg Lando for two things—his forgiveness at leaving and to be my date again.
