Page 16 of For My Finale
Lilah winced. “I didn’t mean—”
But Gloria had already turned on her heel and was striding away, scarves fluttering behind her like little battle flags.
Lilah winced. She was making enemies at quite the impressive speed.
LILAH WAS STARING out of the kitchen window, vaguely wondering if the damn bull was anywhere around and thinking that days in America had never been quite this long. She felt like she’d been awake for three days and it was barely six in the evening.
Unpacking her clothes had taken up a couple of hours.Shopping had taken one more. There seemed to be a surfeit of hours, though. Hours that she didn’t quite know what to do with. Hours that she’d happily lend out to someone else if they needed them because she had absolutely no use for them.
Her phone rang, and she was so glad to hear something that wasn’t just her own thoughts that she snatched it up.
“Lilah, darling!” said Margot, as chirpy as ever. “Now listen here, have I got news for you. There’s an amazing—”
“No,” Lilah said, firmly and loudly.
“But darling, it’s television. First season, already renewed for a second, leading role, executive prod credit, two months filming in—”
“No,” Lilah said again.
“It’s perfect for you. Gritty, smart—”
“No, Margot.” Lilah looked out of the window again. Was it getting dark yet? Was the sun finally starting to go down? “I’m retired.”
Margot sighed. “Lilah, sweetheart, retirement is what rich men do when they want to have more time to play golf and fool around with young wives that they’re too old to actually please. It’s not for you. You’re going to be bored.”
“It is for me,” Lilah said. “And I’m not bored.” Alright, a bit of a lie there, but she’d told worse. “I’m done. No more scripts, no more auditions, no more pretending to be someone that I’m not.”
“Fine, fine,” Margot said airily. “You’ll come running back as soon as you’re bored enough. I’ll call again in a week.”
Lilah was about to protest, but Margot had already hung up.
For god’s sake. Would Margot ever leave her alone? At least the damn press hadn’t tracked her down yet. She took one last look out of the window and decided that it was starting to get dark and therefore she could start to make dinner.
HALF AN HOUR later, the kitchen was filled with smoke. Lilah coughed and waved an ineffectual tea towel in the air before staring at the charred remains of what was supposed to be pasta.
She wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. She’d filled the frying pan with oil, dumped the pasta in, and even stirred it a bit before she got distracted by her phone.
She was a disaster, that was the problem. An actual disaster.
A disaster at cooking, a disaster at trying to make friends, a disaster at having a bath. A disaster at all of this.
She slumped at the kitchen table, resting her chin in her hands. What the hell was she doing here? Was Hollywood really that bad?
She thought about Margot’s offer. About glamorous hotels, industry parties, the constant whirlwind of press junkets and red carpets.
And then she thought about today. About wandering through a grocery store without a single person recognizing her, walking through the village without a bodyguard or paparazzi. She thought about having space to think, room to breathe.
She’d wanted this. There was no point complaining now.
She squared her shoulders, stood up, and grabbed the loaf of bread and a block of cheese. Grilled cheese couldn’t be that hard. Right?
Chapter Seven
Lilah clenched the steering wheel of the rental car, her jaw tight, and her patience nonexistent. Bringing the car into town had been a stupid idea. She should have walked. But whilst she might be technically English, she was very much an American by habit, and jumping into the car to come into town had been second nature.
And now this.
Parallel parking.
