Page 87 of Doc Hollywood

‘Hi.’

She chuckled. That was short and sweet, so she replied with the same.‘Hi.’

She watched the screen as he typed his reply.

‘What are you doing?’he asked.

‘I’ve just got back to my hotel from the hospital. I was summoned by Mr Atrosky—who now wants me to call him Damien.’

‘Wow! He never asks anyone to use his first name. So I just have to save his life, and I’ll get to use his first name too!’

‘Exactly.’She took a photo of the flowers and attached them.‘And he gave me these.’

‘Nice!’

‘What are you doing this afternoon?’

Clara watched as the bubbles on the screen appeared and disappeared, as he was obviously stopping and starting typing. Her heart sank; it meant he must be doing something with Devon.

After what felt like forever, his message arrived.

‘I’m going to a late lunch with Devon at a waterfront café. Brian has arranged with local photographers to get some shots of us together.’

Clara gazed at his message and was close to throwing her phone, as the thought of him and Devon made her feel nauseous. She stared up at the ceiling for a while, debating what to say in reply. What was wrong with her? How had she managed to fall for a man who things could never work out with.

In the end, she typed a polite reply.‘I hope the food’s good.’

It was the best she could muster when all she wanted to do was tell him she was wrong and that they should give themselves a chance to see what would happen between them.

‘It’s supposed to be the best in the area.’

‘Nice.’Staring at her phone, Clara debated trying to say more but left it, thinking their exchange was over until a final message popped up on the screen.

‘I wish I could take you instead. I’ll message you later.’

“Shit,” Clara cursed, and this time she did throw her phone.

She could avoid him, but she wasn’t going to block him on her phone, so she couldn’t escape him and knew that every time he messaged her, she would reply, and her heart would fracture a bit more.

Later that day, she couldn’t stop herself from checking social media for new pictures of Taylor. He was plastered everywhere with Devon, and there were rumours and speculation about the hottest new couple in Hollywood. The rest of her time on set was going to be torture.

Clara was right. The next day on set was awful. She hated the emotional whiplash of the joy that the messages she exchanged with Taylor gave her and the jealous, roiling feeling that churned in her gut every time she saw Taylor and Devon together.

But somehow, when she was on the set, she managed to keep it together, act professionally, and hide her total infatuation.

Because that’s what it had turned into, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She had started dreaming about him, from dreams that made her blush to dreams about a lifetime with him, which also made her blush every time she saw him.

Sadie had phoned her in a rage, having seen the photos of Devon and Taylor, convinced that the actor had been stringing along her best friend. Clara had explained the situation, after asking permission from Taylor, as it wasn’t her story to tell. Sadie was mollified, although still very annoyed on behalf of her best friend. She had been convinced that Clara spending two weeks in close proximity to Taylor would be the opportunity they both needed to see if there was something between them (Clara hadn’t been able to admit to her best friend that there were definitely too many feelings already on her side for a relationship that hadn’t yet gone beyond texting, Face Timingand a little bit of hand holding), and the situation with Devon had ruined it.

Clara didn’t allow herself to get lonely over the weekend, choosing to reframe her thoughts and use her time to relax, which was something she rarely got to do at home. She slept Friday and Saturday nights for over fourteen hours and made time for the exercise that was always the first thing to go when she got too tired. And Clara would be the first to admit that the deep circles under her eyes were less than they had been the previous week, and the colour of her skin was better after the exercise.

‘I wish I could have taken you to Sunday lunch at Tony’s.’

Clara snatched her phone up. She had been trying hard not to think about Devon sitting by Taylor’s side in her place. She quickly corrected herself: It wasn’t her place by his side, but it was her invitation to lunch.

‘Did she hate it?’

‘No, she loved them all. Nonna taught her how to make perfect garlic bread. She had a great time.’

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