The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,101

you, but make no mistake, I’ll detest every minute of it,” he growled.

Their expressions and body language were at odds with their words. If this were a silent film, the audience would think they were confessing their undying love for one another.

“Okay. Let’s roll,” Michael instructed.

This was followed by the assistant director’s instructions. “Quiet everyone. Roll sound. Roll camera.”

Amelia, pain and confusion on her face: “Christen, I don’t understand why you’re here. We can’t possibly have anything more to say to one another—”

Christen, approaching Amelia with determination: “I beg to differ. I think we have a great deal to say to one another—”

Amelia: “Did you fly all the way to Atlanta to berate me for my despicable behavior towards Lady Victoria? If so, save your breath. I know I was horribly rude and conveyed my apologies in a letter to be given to her by Margaret, although I’d understand if Lady Victoria refused it.” Amelia turns her back on Christen.

Christen walks up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders: “Amelia.” He whispers her name. “I didn’t come to berate you. Quite the contrary.” He turns her to face him, placing his hands on either side of her face. “I came to make you believe that I’m in love with you, notwithstanding what Charles led you to believe. I’ve been in love with you from the moment you called me a pompous, condescending blue-blood and I pointed out that pompous and condescending were redundant.” Christen smiles.

Amelia is speechless.

Christen, still smiling: “Apparently I’ve discovered how to leave you speechless. All I have to do is say ‘I love you.’ I’ll have to remember that when we next argue.”

Amelia recovers her capacity for speech: “You’re taking a great deal for granted, aren’t you? I haven’t declared my feelings for you—”

Christen, complacently: “Oh, there’s no need. You love me, too.”

Amelia, shaking her head: “Arrogant to the last—”

Christen cuts off her words with a kiss. She puts her arms around his neck. He pulls back. “I love you, Amelia Hampton.”

Amelia jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist, exactly the type of behavior Christen would have abhorred before. Instead of chiding her, he places his hands under her bottom, laughing and spinning her around. She pulls his face to hers and they kiss.

“Cut. Print. Great job.”

Breathe. At least that take was done. Knowing Michael, only twenty more to go. Sarah’s relief was short-lived, however. As she looked on, Brooke’s legs were still wrapped around Alex’s waist, her lips still pressed to his. She knew Brooke was only doing it to aggravate her, but it rankled nonetheless.

“Brooke,” Alex spoke against her mouth, “if I wasn’t a gentleman, I’d drop you on your despicable little ass. Now let go before I forget my manners.”

“Oh, did Michael say ‘cut?’ I guess I didn’t hear him.” She dropped her legs from his waist, and stepped back, wearing a smug expression on her pretty face.

Sarah groaned. This was going to be a long day.

“How do you do it?” At his confused expression, Sarah continued. “Make people believe you’re madly in love with someone you actually despise?”

They were finishing a light dinner in their hotel suite. After the tabloid articles, there was no point in pretending their relationship was a secret, plus Sarah was sure Brooke had already enlightened everyone.

It was after midnight, late to be eating, but they didn’t wrap up until after ten, the goal being to finish the principal photography today, four months to the day they started filming.

“It’s what I do. How do you conjure beautiful, complex characters out of thin air, or create breathtaking settings with words? We have both found our calling, and when that happens, we often exceed our own expectations. You’re willing to do the hard things in order to perfect your craft.”

“But what I do seems easy by comparison. My work is solitary. I don’t have to deal with troublesome people on a daily basis.”

“Mind over matter I guess.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his Southern iced tea, something he’d recently discovered in Atlanta. “You remember the actress who played Fanny Price? She reeked of garlic every day.” He made a face wrinkling his nose.

“Ooh.” Sarah made a similar face. “Yet you made me, and millions of others believe that you, or rather Edmund, were in love with her.”

“Well, I’m not sure about millions, but there you have it, mind over matter, or in that case mind over odor.”

They both chuckled.

“Should I be concerned that it’s mind over matter with