Page 62 of Just for December

‘No, it’s okay,’ says Duke. ‘I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she just showed up, but I get it. She felt like there was no other way. She didn’t even have my phonenumber anymore. It says a lot that she went to all of this effort.’

‘I think so too,’ Evie says. ‘I know I was harsh about addicts and the black hole they can pull you into, but that’s easier to say in theory, when the person you’re talking about is a hypothetical. When I met your mom, I was kind of struck by how normal she seems? And how proud of you she is. I felt like I wanted to give her a hug to stop her bursting from pride when she was there yesterday. That must feel nice.’

‘Yeah,’ Duke says, and it’s nice to feel understood by Evie. His instinct was right. She really does ‘get it’. He doesn’t know what ‘it’ is, but she’s there. She speaks his language. ‘And she has my phone number now, so she can call or text instead of randomly showing up next time. We’ve said we’ll start with FaceTiming once a month and take it from there.’

‘The privilege of your phone number!’ Evie teases him, and he’s glad she’s brought this up. ‘Imagine such an embarrassment of riches!’

He laughs. ‘Well,’ he tells her. ‘I was thinking that we should finally exchange numbers? It was cute at first, but now I think it’s silly.’

‘Nahhh,’ says Evie, and he thinks she’s kidding, at first. It takes a few beats for the air between them to sour, just the tiniest bit, and Duke needs to clarify what, exactly, is happening.

‘You’re not serious,’ he says, moving to look at her. She looks around the room – everywhere except at him – like she’s trying to decide what words to use next.

Finally she says: ‘Well, yeah, I am, actually.’

‘I don’t get it.’

She swallows, takes a breath, then looks at him. The way she does it makes his stomach drop.

‘I just think having your number would mean I would want to use your number.’

‘That’s the general idea, yes,’ Duke responds.

‘And I don’t want to be, like, pathetically waiting by the phone.’

‘Well, you won’t,’ he says. ‘I will call. And hopefully see you. I mean, I assumed …’

What did he assume? That she felt how he felt? That she was falling too? That beyond here, in Germany, for the movie, they would spend some time together, hang out, see where it went …?

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m having fun,’ she says. ‘Getting to know you and everything. It’s been really cool.’

‘Past tense,’ Duke says.

‘What?’

‘It’s been really cool, like it’s already done.’

‘No,’ she says, but there’s something prickling under his skin, now, a funny feeling that started in a corner of his brain and is bleeding into every part of him, like poison.It’s happened again.He’s been used, once again. She’s here, passing the time, filling the minutes before she goes and so she’s played along with the stupid fauxmance the producers asked of them and taken it a bit too far – got her press and her books on the bestseller lists and even another movie deal. Good for her. It’s all come up roses. Meanwhile he’s done exactly what he always does and made a total fool of himself, giving too much of himself like the desperate little boy he is, and she’s just not bothered, not interested.

‘We still have time …’ Evie continues. ‘We said this was for December, right? I didn’t mean …’

‘Justfor December,’ Duke corrects. ‘And don’t worry, I know what you meant. I get it absolutely.’

He climbs out of bed, then, and pulls on his underwear. He doesn’t know where he is going, since this is his room. He tries to find the words in his throat to ask Evie to go, thinking about the best way to do it: saying he needs some proper sleep, saying outright that he’s upset, telling her to go screw herself even. But he can’t. He doesn’t have it in him to be confrontational; that just isn’t who he is. So instead he pulls on his trousers and trainers, grabs his phone and his coat, and leaves without saying anything at all. Then he changes his mind, opens the door again, and sees her sitting up in bed, exactly as he left her.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I just … I can’t … I can’t do this,’ he sputters. ‘I think I’ve made a mistake.’

By the time he gets back, half an hour and a drink at the hotel bar later, she’s gone.

31

Duke

It’s like Groundhog Day, waking up to a flurry of texts from both his teams in LA and London, with links to the internet on fire with photos of Evie and Duke down a dimly lit alleyway, his hand up her top and his tongue in her mouth. What’s different this time, though, is that the headlines have become personal. DUKE CARLISLE’S WRITER GIRLFRIEND LEAVES GRAVELY ILL MOTHER ALONE IN CARE HOME SO SHE CAN NIBBLE SCHNITZEL ON GERMAN FILM SET is theMail’s choice, with many others offering a variation on that theme.

What the hell? This is where Duke’s relationship with the British press sours. He can stomach the odd staged shot or even let the occasional genuine candid pass by if it goes on to afford him some peace, but what’s all this about Evie and her mum? It doesn’t even make sense – if her mother is ill,it goes without saying that Evie would leave her behind in a care home. This is her work. You can’t be expected to bring a sick parent (a sick anyone!) to work. It was likely only a matter of time before they found some way to demonise her – she is a woman, after all. Duke doesn’t get much of that. They’ve never touched his family history and mostly only cover his shirtless beach pics or whoever he happens to be talking to on a film set, which, of course, is exactly how this whole thing with Evie started.

He doesn’t have her number to call and see if she’s okay, as per their fight last night. He’s mad. Humiliated, really. It was immature to think that life changes just like that – he might be the leading man in many a fairy tale, but they’re on screen, like Evie says, for entertainment. It’s officially time to become more realistic about love, because he can’t keep going on this way, falling head over heels and thinking every next woman is the one who is going to save him from the loneliness of his own making.

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