Page 19 of Knotting Hill (How I Met My Monster)

Bella

3 months later

It feels good to be working again. I’m proud of coming out of it faster than I did last time. To be fair, the stories have slowed. We got someone to handle my social media accounts, so I never have to look at them again.

I do wish Roksana hadn’t pressed so hard for me to take this job, though.

I can’t let her down. She stayed by my side the whole time I was sick. She never once complained, even though by the terms of our contract she was losing money since I wasn’t working.

She cleared my schedule and canceled everything I had coming up, despite the fallout for her. For that, I’ll be eternally grateful.

But London makes me think of Will.

I mean, who am I kidding? I think of him all the time. Being in London... It just hurts more.

I miss him.

We haven’t spoken since that night. After those missed calls I never summoned the courage to call him back. Every time I would try, I’d start worrying he saw the video. What he must think of me. Especially when, for all intents and purposes, it looked like I brought him back to my hotel when I was already dating someone else.

Of course, no one believed me. Everyone believed Austin’s version that he was quick to spread around everywhere.

That went on for weeks. Eventually, I figured I had my answer, anyway, since Will never called me again.

Walking out of the hotel into the damp cold of a foggy London morning makes me think of warm bookstores and hot coffee or being curled up by a fire somewhere. I duck my head as I slide into the back seat of the town car and slide on my dark glasses for a little extra privacy. It’s just a read-through today. I’m still edgy. This will be the first time I’ve spoken to anyone who wasn’t my therapist, my agent or hotel staff in months. Roksana handled all that for me.

Someone hands me a grande latte as I walk into the room with the long table and take my seat. I smile gratefully and put my head down to skim the printed script in the manila folder at my place, despite having already read it several times through. My lines have been meticulously highlighted for me in green. I take up the pen beside me and make some notes in the margin, already knowing some lines I’ll be asking to change.

On the opposite side of the table, a young woman with fine blonde hair sits beside a darker haired woman. They lean with their heads close together, whispering. They look at me and then quickly away again.

I drop my eyes back to the script, willing myself to ignore it.

Of course, people are wondering. Of course, they’re talking.

I haven’t been seen in public for months. Haven’t taken interviews. Haven’t worked.

There will be talk for a while. I just need to make sure it’s positive talk now.

It’s fine for them to talk, as long as they don’t talk to me about it. It’s not something I can control, as my therapist says. So I have to let it go.

Beneath the table, I spread the fingers of my left hand, tracing up and down the edges with the forefinger on my right hand as I concentrate on my breathing. In and out. Let it go. I can’t control what they think. Let it go.

Someone throws themselves dramatically into the chair beside me with a sigh and I look around. My co-star, Elliot Thorne has a scowl on his unshaven face. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. “Might as well get started on this farce while we can. It’s only a matter of time before it gets canceled.”

“What are you talking about, Elliot?” someone from across the room says.

He scoffs. The next words are loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Not everyone in the cast is as reliable as you’d like to think. The studio should have found someone else. I’d have pulled out when I found out who else they cast, but I’m not a quitter.”

I grit my teeth and stare down at my script. No point causing a scene. I’ll just keep my mouth shut and get this over with.

Only... “You know what? I’d like to see you deal with the kind of bad press I have to deal with every day. Paps just don’t go after men like they do women. You know that. Or you would, if your head wasn’t so far up your own ass.”

Elliot just sneers at me. “Some might say you brought it on yourself. And you wouldn’t hear me arguing with them.”

My mouth drops open. I know it’s unprofessional, but I can’t do this. I can’t work with someone who is going to talk to me that way.

I stand, pushing back my chair. “I might be an actress, Elliot, but even I am not good enough to pretend to be in love with you. We might as well give up now because I’ll never manage it. So if you want to know who caused this film to fail, look in the mirror.”

“Quitter.” He throws the word at me as I storm out.

My face is flushed and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from crying. I won’t give him that satisfaction. I can’t find Roksana anywhere. I’ll have to apologize to her later. I’ll make sure she gets the fee she would have been paid for negotiating this contract, anyway, even after I’ve broken it. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.

“Ms Owens!” I don’t turn around. Whoever is calling me isn’t someone I want to talk to right now.

I’m hurrying towards the door blindly, ignoring the calls and dodging between people.

“Ms Owens!”

I break into a run. Bursting out of the door, I head down the path between two unassuming brick buildings, making for the spot my car dropped me.

Of course, it’s not there. My driver isn’t due back for hours. But I can’t stop. I keep running. My footsteps and the rushing in my ears drowns out the calls of the person following me.

It doesn’t matter now. I just have to get out of here, away from the looks and whispers. Away from everyone judging me.

I follow the path around a corner and emerge through the gates onto the street where I spot a black cab. Without thinking, I hail it. Opening the door as soon as it stops, I get in.

I sink my head back against the seat and let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes and willing that nightmare into the back of my mind. It doesn’t work.

“Where to, miss?”

“The Grande Hotel.”

“Right you are.”

The driver doesn’t look too carefully in the rear view mirror, which I’m grateful for. Ordinarily, I’d never dare to get into a public cab alone. I just needed to be off the street. Away from that mess and the creeping guilt of what I’ve just done. The way I’ve done exactly what Elliot said.

God damn him.

Why did it have to be him?

I’ve worked with Elliot before and we didn’t really get along. But it was a larger cast and I guess having more people balanced out his abrasive personality.

“Damn. Looks like there’s a bit of traffic here on the A4. Might be a while.”

The driver’s already had to slow the car several times. My phone buzzes.

Roksana: Are you OK? I just had a call from the studio. What happened?

I swallow. My throat feels dry.

My heart rate is creeping up again.

How do I explain to her that I walked out on yet another project she organized for me?

In the front, the cab driver swears and slams his fist down over the horn, making me jump. “Yeah, alright, you twat! We’re all stuck here.”

He glances at me in the rear view mirror. “You sure you want to head into the city? Maybe we could take the long way?”

A green sign catches my eye in the window on my left. Notting Hill 4 miles.

I don’t know what possesses me. Only... It’s so close and it’s been so long. All I can think of is the warm earthy smell of him, and the way I’d like to be held tight in his arms. My voice comes out croaky and I have to clear my throat. “Change of plans. Let’s head for Notting Hill.”