Page 49 of Love At First Fright

U nlike her friend Dina, Rosemary was not a natural baker.

But what recipes she could bake, she had perfected to the best of her non-kitchen-witch abilities.

For this lunch she needed to impress, so she’d gone with a recipe she’d had every holiday season as a kid: spiced persimmon pie.

There were persimmon trees on the farm where she grew up, and every fall she would be sent out to harvest them, bucket in hand.

They didn’t have persimmon trees in London, though Ellis had already ordered a sapling online because he said he wanted to try it out in the garden.

Her insides had fizzled warmly at the thought that Ellis was maybe imagining a future in which she could harvest the fruits in their garden to make pies with.

Although she didn’t have Dina’s magical ability to imbibe food and drink with magical comfort, she still loved the process of baking.

Measuring out the dry and wet ingredients, pouring it all into the baking tray, and crouching by the oven every now and again to make sure it was rising as expected.

While she waited for the pie to bake, Rosemary noted a few ideas down for the early scenes of the script adaptation of Julia, which was coming along nicely.

The room was filled with the scent of nutmeg, cinnamon, and caramelised pecans that she would use as a topping, as well as the buttery, fruity scent of the pie itself.

Rosemary was pulling it out of the oven when Ellis walked into the kitchen, his hair still mussed from sleep.

Fig bounded over to him, weaving around his ankles until he crouched down to scratch her ears.

“It smells fucking amazing in here,” he said, coming over to kiss Rosemary. She had just enough time to pull the oven gloves off her hands before Ellis pulled her by the strap of her jeans to him, their bodies flush.

“I woke up and you weren’t in bed,” he grumbled, kissingher.

“I had to start baking to give the pie time to set. And, because I’m a wonderful girlfriend, I also made you coffee.”

Ellis groaned into her neck and murmured against her skin, “You’re an angel.”

Rosemary puttered around the kitchen as Ellis drank his coffee, Fig bounding up onto his lap for more attention.

“What’s this?” Ellis asked, looking over at the open Word document on Rosemary’s laptop.

“Oops, no, don’t look at that yet!” she squealed, rushing over to close the laptop. “It’s a surprise.”

Ellis laughed. “Alright, I’ll be patient.”

They spent the next few hours tidying the house and preparing for the lunch.

As Rosemary had done the dessert, Ellis was in charge of the mains, and she watched on from the counter as he put in a leg of lamb to roast. She had so quickly adapted to living here, with Ellis.

It didn’t feel like it had only been weeks, but months. Years, even. She felt at home.

As it approached noon, with only an hour until they expected people to start arriving, Ellis began acting strangely.

He’d wander around the kitchen looking for something and then mumble to himself and leave the room.

When he’d been gone for nearly fifteen minutes, Rosemary made her way upstairs to the bedroom.

Ellis was standing half-naked in front of the bed, which looked like it had been attacked by a mountain of shirts.

“You could always go topless,” she suggested.

“Yeah? You don’t think that would be frowned upon by polite society?”

“Once you meet my friends you’ll realise that ‘polite society’ is not the term to use.”

Ellis stared grimly at the pile of shirts, then pulled a white cotton one at random and threw it on.

“How’s this?”

Rosemary sidled closer, running her hands over the nape of his neck, scratching slightly, as she knew he liked. The flare of desire returned in his eyes was unmistakable. “I like you in this one.”

“Do you now?”

“Mmm.” She reached up on her tiptoes, kissing Ellis slowly. She’d never get tired of it. From the corner of the room, Rosemary could hear an incessant buzzing she hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Is there a bee trapped in here?”

Ellis sighed. “No, that’s my phone. It’s been going off all morning, so I threw it in the sock drawer. Some photos from the scene in the bookshop were posted online and it’s caused quite a stir.”

“Really? What are they saying?”

Ellis tilted her face up to his. “Nothing you have to worry about. Mostly just speculation on the nature of our relationship.”

“Has Brody been bothering you, is that buzzing him?”

“Surprisingly, no. Brody did text me this morning just to say that I should say ‘no comment’ to anything that comes through and that he and I will be ‘having words’ before my interview tomorrow, whatever that means. The buzzing is just a load of journalists trying to contact me through social media. Everyone wants to know if I’m cheating on Jenna Dunn with the scream queen of horror fiction. ”

“Do you think Jenna is okay?”

Ellis smiled. “She texted to say she’s fine. And that this gives her a reason to go public with Lyn.”

“I’m glad. And just ignore the journalists. Let them wonder. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

A fleeting expression of disappointment creased Ellis’s face, and Rosemary wondered what she’d said wrong.

“Of course. We’ll keep it to ourselves. The crew on set know not to say anything either, so no worries on that front.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and guilt flared in Rosemary’s chest. She’d only said that they could keep it private because that’s what she assumed he wanted.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Ellis said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want…?” He hesitated, and Rosemary wondered if he might ask her to come back. “Do you want me to drive you to the airport?” he said finally.

She touched his cheek. “You can’t drive me because you have to go prepare for the Theo Drake interview at the studios.”

He shook his head. “They can wait for me, I’ll be a diva for once.”

“We both know that’s not like you. Ellis, go to the studios. I’ll book a cab.”

He huffed. “I’ll do that at least.”

Rosemary wanted to confess to Ellis that she wanted to come back. That she had never felt for anyone like she felt for him. That he was all she thought about. That she couldn’t imagine a future without him in it. But she couldn’t say any of those things, because at that moment, the doorbell rang.

—

Annie Finch, Ellis’s younger sister, had arrived.

“I brought herbs for Rosemary,” she said the moment she crossed the threshold. Her voice had a soft, raspy quality and there was a quiet calmness to her that Rosemary immediately loved.

Annie was shorter than Ellis, with a delicate plumpness to her figure that reminded Rosemary of a classic 1950s actress.

In fact, her outfit was also like something from the golden age of Hollywood, with a fur-trimmed dark red dress that clung to her waist and flared outwards as if concealing a petticoat.

She threw an arm around Ellis, but once she spied Rosemary, she all but pushed her brother out of the way.

“You must be Rosemary. It’s good to finally meet in person—I brought you this.

It’s a pot of marjoram, which in the Victorian language of flowers was said to mean ‘I wish you joy and happiness,’ which I do.

Everything else was particularly sexual, I nearly bought you some red camellias before I remembered that they mean ‘you’re a flame in my heart. ’?”

“Thank you, that’s so sweet,” Rosemary said, taking the pot of herbs. From behind Annie, Ellis was grinning ear-to-ear. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, too.”

“Ellis said you write horror novels, and are famous for it,” Annie said matter-of-factly as they walked through to the kitchen.

“I do, but I wouldn’t say famous.”

Annie frowned. “Ellis doesn’t do hyperbole, so I expect you’re being humble.”

Rosemary threw Ellis a look to which he winked back, as Annie took a moment to lavish attention on Fig, who was lying belly up in the middle of the open-plan kitchen.

“Ellis said you work at a museum? My friend Scott works as a curator at the British Museum, you’ll meet him today.”

“Dr. Scott Mason? I’m familiar with his work. The Symbols of Protection exhibition last year was well executed. And yes, though my job isn’t nearly as glamorous. I’m an archivist for the Merryweather Museum, a small anthropological museum in South London. A glorified librarian really.”

“Now who’s being humble?” Ellis chimed in.

It all fell naturally into place, chatting with Annie and Ellis.

Ellis had told her that Annie could be a little shy, though Rosemary didn’t see it.

Perhaps by virtue of being with her brother, Rosemary had somehow managed to bypass Annie’s shyness and be welcomed into the fold.

That’s certainly what it felt like when the two of them were seated on the floor, feeding Fig small chunks of carrot a few minutes later.

“I’m glad you’re here, Rosemary,” Annie said quietly, when Ellis had left the room to get some more herbs from the garden for his garnish.

“He doesn’t really tell me much, you know?

” Annie continued. “He got into this film business so early, and I won’t lie and say that it didn’t make a huge difference for our family.

But he’s never stopped. I see him in those action films, and I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t enjoy it.

When he invited me here, the way he was talking about your movie…

he’s never been like that. He was enjoying himself.

So thank you, for writing it, and for being there for my brother. ” Annie patted Rosemary’s hand.

“I—of course.” She stuttered. Before she could say more, the doorbell rang again.

“That will be my friends,” she said, standing.

It had been a few days since Rosemary had seen Dina and Immy, and although they’d spoken frequently enough in their group chat, nothing prepared her for the swell of love she felt as her two closest friends collided with her in a three-person hug.