Page 77 of Hot Set

“We’ll go to my place for a wash up and then we walk into work, hands clasped. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, leaning over to kiss his ear. I truly am ready to sacrifice my future onThe Chieftain’s Sonwriting staff for a future with Jack. I’m not pissing away an opportunity for a man. I’m embracing love and a creative life with the partner I choose. Other opportunities will come, or I will make them myself. That’s the beauty of being a writer.

Perhaps I’ll offer to freelance for Deidre and help her with season breakdowns of the rest ofThe Chieftain’s Sonseries. She wanted to work with me anyway. Heck, I’ll do that just for the joy of spending more time with her. Somehow, I know Deidre LaRochelle will understand my decision better than anyone else.

Still, my new gilded reality isn’t without the inevitable gut punch of disappointment when I imagine the look of betrayal on Bobby’s face and having to say goodbye to the rest of the writing staff.

Jack butchers the words to the song playing on the radio, and I smile. A lifetime of this will be pretty grand. As an engagement gift to myself, I change his contact in my phone fromCheese and Onion Pieto simplyJack.

ChapterTwenty-Five

After a shared shower with benefits at Jack’s teeny, two-room mini-house, I don the Christmas gift sweater he bought for his sister that he’s supposed to exchange for the right size but hasn’t gotten around to yet. I may not have a ring, but at least I’ll avoid the walk of shame showing up in the same outfit I wore yesterday.

“We’re going to be late,” I tap on the console clock of the Renault while we sit in the car park.

“Not yet,” says Jack.

My stomach flops over one way and then attempts to right itself. He wants to be last to the table read so everyone will be there for our “out loud” reveal.

“Stop worrying yourself pale.” Jack shares his latest social media post at me. “The reactions to this shot is what makes me both Meg and True Time proof.” There’s the picture of the hawthorn tree in dawn’s golden light with the caption:Woke to this on the best day of my life.If you look closely, faint shadows stretch beneath the tree. I can make out it’s us sans clothing, but for those not in the know, we’re just an abstract. There are already over forty-five thousand likes.

“Enjoy the hearts while you can.” I make a heart with my hands. “They might turn to dagger emojis when your lovely lasses find out about me.”

Jack flashes me his wiliest look. “What do you Yanks say? ‘Bring it on’?”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

He takes my hand and squeezes. “Here. I’m giving you a bit of mine.”

A car screeches up the road and skids into a spare expanse of gravel. Maureen hops out carrying a large flat donut box and rushes through the front door.

“Someone seems to be back on with her pastry chef.” If I were still on staff, we could do some wedding planning together.

“You don’t look happy, love.”

I pat his hand. “I’m fine.” Looking into that chiseled, ridiculously handsome face, I can’t help but smile, knowing I get to wake up to this view for the rest of my life. “Actually, I’m brilliant.”

“Let’s to it then.”

Murph doesn’t even notice we’re holding hands when I fob us in. The walk through the sound stage and down the corridor to the table read feels like a hundred miles or kilometers whatever is longer.

There’s the usual buzz ahead. My nerves short-circuit when I see everyone seated at the table for the read through.

“I love you,” says Jack just before we step through the door.

Conversations die like the snap of a power outage. It’s almost comical the way every pair of eyes, from Bobby’s to the writers’, to Alan Rafier’s, to the actors’ and Niks’ lock onto our joined hands. I sneak a look at Jack. His smile shines like one of the giant stage lights.

“Good morning, all,” he says. “There’s a thing Gilly and I would like you all to know.”

I never hear Meg coming. She barrels between us from behind, breaking our grip to open a Meg-size space between us.

“Actually, there’s not,” she says, as if her maneuver will erase the evidence of our joined hands from everyone’s memory.

Bobby is first to recover and takes a step toward us.

“What the hell?” His expression is even stormier than I imagined.

Jack rests his hands lightly on Meg’s shoulders. “I respect what you’re about, Meg, and I do appreciate it, but I can’t go along with what you’ve cooked up for me anymore.” He dots a kiss on her cheek.

---