The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,85

idiotic. I was just trying to protect my heart. I couldn’t take another life-altering disappointment, and I couldn’t face the potential for an exposé on our failed relationship if it didn’t work out.”

She stood up, touched her hand to his face. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret hurting you . . . regret the lost time . . . time that we’ll never get back . . .” She sniffed as a tear rolled down her cheek.

He captured the tear with his thumb. “Okay. I’m sorry I dredged it up.” He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her to his chest, holding her there for a few more sniffles. He tilted her chin up and kissed her lips, a soft whisper of a touch.

What began as a tender kiss, blossomed into something very different. Ardent. Intense. “I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he groaned against her lips, as he pulled her into the perfumed shadows.

Chapter 7

This was it. The day Sarah had been dreading. The day she’d have to watch Alex kiss Brooke in the pivotal scene in the library; the scene where Christen acknowledges his feelings for Amelia. Another parallel, however faintly drawn, between the fictional relationship and the real life relationship: the library. And to think some people find libraries boring.

After the events of the past week, all the passionate nights they’d spent together, it was going to be torture. Part of her wanted to avoid the scene, but the other part of her, the part that won, wanted to be there, to ensure that Brooke didn’t take advantage of the situation.

It was clear she’d had her eye on Alex from the beginning, and despite his rebuffs, her advances grew more calculated by the day.

Sarah sat in her customary seat next to Michael, although lately she’d surreptitiously put a little more space between them. She tried to act nonchalant as Michael called ‘action.’

The scene began with Cat confronting Christen about his feelings for Amelia, encouraging him to tell her. He argued that he had no such feelings, and he didn’t know what she was talking about. Unbeknownst to them both, Amelia was curled up in a chair, where she tried to hide when she heard them enter the library, clearly having an argument. She doesn’t know the argument is about her, until she hears her name.

Cat: “Oh, Christen, it’s as plain as the nose on your aristocratic face. Admit it. You’re in love with Amelia.”

Christen: “I most certainly am not. What nonsense. Besides, she positively detests me.”

Cat, with a smile: “Why would you say that? You’re very loveable–when you want to be.”

Christen: “Are you blind? We can barely speak two civil words to one another—”

Cat: “I spent a long, cold night in the woods with her, remember?”

Christen winces at the memory.

Cat: “Trust me, she doesn’t detest you. In truth, I think it is quite the opposite.” She walks over and stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Tell her . . . soon.” Cat exits the library.

Amelia remains frozen in her chair, hoping that Christen will follow, leaving her to make her escape. Unfortunately, she hiccups, a nervous reaction she’s had since a little girl.

Christen, voice severe: “Who’s there? Show yourself this instant.”

Amelia hiccups again then, hesitantly reveals her presence, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment.

Christen, steps back in shock: “Amelia.”

Amelia hiccups again: “Christen . . . I’m so sorry (hiccup) . . . it wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop (hiccup). . . I’ll just be going . . . ” In a rare moment of chagrin, she attempts to walk past him.

Christen, grabbing her shoulders, stopping her, looks into her face only inches from her mouth: “How much did you hear?”

Amelia: “Everything. (hiccup) I heard everything.” Hiccup.

Christen, in frustration: “Confound it. Could you please stop hiccupping?”

Amelia: “Sorry.” (Hiccup)

Christen, first in exasperation: “Oh, blast.” Then murmurs: “Perhaps I can cure those.” He takes her face in his hands and lowers his lips to hers. They kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he pulls her closer.

Sarah’s hands gripped the arms of the chair so tight she expected to hear a snap–either the chair or her hand breaking. Hasn’t this gone on long enough? She wanted to yell ‘cut!’ Alex still kissed Brooke. What the hell was Michael waiting for anyway?

“Cut! Print.”

Thank God. She could breathe again. She hoped that was the only take, but of course she knew better than that. Michael liked to