Page 23 of You Had Me at Chateau
I recall the card that came with the flowers:
Let’s work together.
‘You want me to work with you?’ I ask. ‘How on earth can I do that? Oh, God, don’t tell me you want me to ghostwrite yourbook because no way, not a chance, I’ve got my own to write, thanks.’
‘Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,’ Caleb replies quickly, and I’m slightly offended that he doesn’t want me to be his ghostwriter – even though I don’t want to do it anyway. ‘Yesterday, when I grabbed you in the lift, I really did think you were my girlfriend – my ex-girlfriend, to be more specific,’ he explains.
I blink at him, on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear more. Even my cookie has lost my attention briefly.
‘Annabelle and I have broken up, but it isn’t public knowledge yet,’ he continues. ‘She dumped me, seemingly out of nowhere, so it was a bit of a shock.’
I hate to admit it but, before I fell asleep last night, I had a look at Annabelle Harvey-Whitaker’s Instagram, and there were no signs that she and Caleb had broken up, although she hasn’t posted anything about him recently.
‘I told Annabelle that I would be here yesterday, and I asked her to meet me – to resolve our unfinished business – so when I saw you in the lift I just assumed that you were here, that she had turned up, and that she wanted to get back together. It’s so strange, how alike the two of you look. Your figure, your body language – even your hands are the same.’
Caleb takes my hand in his, examining it, holding it like a specimen as he marvels at the fact I’m apparently his ex-girlfriend’s hand twin. I never thought a man would only want me for my body but, if he did, this is definitely not what I had in mind. I can’t help but glance around, feeling a few pairs of eyes on us.
‘Facially you look nothing like her, though,’ he’s quick to add. ‘You definitely have your own face.’
I frown. Annabelle is absolutely stunning so, if I were in that sort of mood, I could definitely interpret that as a reminder that I’m not as attractive. Maybe I’m reaching, though.
‘Okay, I get it, I don’t actually look anything like her,’ I say, taking my hand back. But then I soften because it’s not nice when a relationship comes to an end. ‘I’m sorry to hear that you broke up.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ he replies. ‘Because it’s going to cost me a fortune.’
‘Eh?’ I blurt, confused.
‘I make most of my money from brand collaborations – we both do – and I have all these products that I need to post on my socials, so the plan was that the two of us would go on a trip, take a bunch of photos, and then the money would come rolling in,’ he explains. ‘The plan was to take all of the products on a romantic trip away, because it’s the two of us as an “it” couple or whatever that makes us more valuable to brands. I don’t get paid until I post the content they want, and I can’t post the content they want without Annabelle,’ he explains.
‘You can’t take them without her?’ I reply.
‘A lot of them are for couples, or just for women,’ he tells me. ‘So, I can’t do it without her, or without someone who looks just like her, so I was thinking, why don’t you come with me?’
I fall about laughing – but then I quickly realise that he isn’t joking.
‘Is this like aPretty Womankind of deal?’ I blurt.
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ he quickly insists. ‘I’m thinking because you look like Annabelle, from the right angles, that you could come with me, and be strategically placed in the photos, and that way I can get paid – and I would pay you, of course, fifty-fifty.’
‘You want to pay me half of what you’re getting just to be a prop in your photos?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow. ‘How much are we talking?’
‘Thousands,’ he admits, widening his eyes for effect. ‘Plus, you get a free holiday – anywhere you want, really. Annabellebooked the place we were headed, so I need to arrange somewhere.’
‘But if it’s supposed to be you and Annabelle in the photos, you can’t just have someone pretend to be her, surely she’ll expect the money?’ I point out.
‘I won’t get into it, about how we have different managers, and accountants, and the tax reasons behind it, but basically we make deals individually, and separately,’ he explains. ‘Some are mine, some are hers, but my contracts are mine alone, and they don’t specify that it has to be Annabelle in the photos, it’s just assumed it will be, as she’s my girlfriend. I can have any girl I want, in the photos, but with our break-up not being public knowledge yet, and me needing to get these photos online ASAP, it wouldn’t look good, to have some new, random girl with me, it would look like I was cheating, or moving on too quickly, and brands don’t want associating with that.’
I guess that makes sense, as bleak as it is.
‘This is the money I live on, and it’s thousands, Amber, and I can’t afford to lose it, not until my author career takes off,’ he explains. ‘Do you think I would ask you, if I wasn’t desperate?’
Hopefully he doesn’t mean that the way it sounds. But I see where he’s coming from, he hasn’t just lost his relationship, he’s lost his income, and when you look at it like that, who wouldn’t approach a random girl who could be the answer to all of their problems?
I’m tempted, for a moment, but then I remember that with the flowers being from Caleb and not Jen, it means I’m still going to France.
‘I’d love to,’ I say, which isn’t strictly true, but I’m letting him down anyway. ‘But I’ve already got a free holiday lined up. I’m going tomorrow.’
‘Where to?’ he asks, looking genuinely interested.
