The Promise of Change (23 page)

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.’”

He kissed her tenderly on her head before she slid into oblivion. “I love you, sweet Sarah.”

Dressed and anxious to leave, Sarah sat on the hospital bed, waiting for Dr. Smithwick to release her. Her head still ached, and although she had to turn her head slowly to prevent the room from dipping crazily around her, she was ready to get out of the hospital.

Alex gathered the myriad bouquets of flowers and balloons that arrived during her short stay here. Ann, Becca, Lady Clara, her former colleagues, the cast and crew, and Michael all sent the customary flowers or balloons. Brooke sent nothing.

Her agent, who according to Alex stayed long enough to determine Sarah was going to be okay before catching a flight a day late for her meeting in Hong Kong, gave her a bottle of fine Cognac. Leave it to Elizabeth to break the mold when giving a get well gift, or any gift for that matter.

For her last birthday she’d given Sarah a tandem parachute jump. As if Sarah would ever voluntarily jump out of a perfectly good airplane.

“Good morning, Ms. Edwards. It appears you are eager to leave us.” The effervescent Dr. Smithwick approached the bed, looking at her meager belongings gathered on a cart. “I can’t imagine why,” he said blandly. He picked up her chart, looking it over before turning to her. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Like I’ve been hit by a train rather than just having hit the floor of one.”

“And the head?” he asked, pointing out the most serious injury, since she hadn’t.

“It aches, but I’ll live.”

“Glad to hear that you’ll live. Always like to have my prognosis confirmed.” He smiled. “You’re free to go, but you have some limitations.

“First: rest, rest, rest. Second: stay away from aspirin, ibuprofen, or other anti-inflammatory drugs. Tylenol is the ticket. Third: avoid vigorous activity for at least two weeks. No aerobics, running, or other activities that may bounce your brain around. Finally, if any of your symptoms return, seek medical attention immediately.”

Before Sarah could respond, Alex spoke, “Thank you Dr. Smithwick. I’ll make sure she follows all of your instructions.”

She rolled her eyes before she realized that made her dizzy. She swayed a little on the bed, but caught herself before either Alex or Dr. Smithwick could change their mind about springing her.

“Goodbye, Sarah. Take care.” Dr. Smithwick gently shook her hand before leaving. “Lord Rutherford.”

“I’ll bring the car around and see you out front.”

“I’ll be the one in the wheelchair,” she said as the nurse wheeled it into the room.

They both helped Sarah from the bed, steadying her as she turned to sit in the chair. Alex leaned down and kissed the top of her head before he left.

The nurse leaned over and whispered, “Is that Lord Rutherford, the actor?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a very lucky girl.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Can I get you anything?” Alex asked as he plumped the pillows behind Sarah’s back. They’d just returned from the hospital to the Knightsbridge apartment.

“Yes. You. You can please stay with me. I want to talk—”

“Sarah—”

“No. We’ve put this off long enough. Sit. Please.”

He unwillingly sat on the bed next to her, his eyes wary, his lips drawn into a straight line.

“Alex, why didn’t you tell me about the movie? When were you planning to tell me?”

“There were so many times I’d resolved to tell you, but circumstances would always interfere. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right time. It was wrong of me, and I’m so sorry if I hurt you. It was never my intention.”

He looked deeply into her eyes, and she knew he was sincere.

He reached up, gingerly cupping her face in his hands, as tears filled his eyes. “Oh God, Sarah. If I had lost you . . .”

“Shhh. I’m here.” She pulled his head down to kiss his mouth. He returned the kiss hesitantly, as if afraid she might break. Lowering his head to her chest, he pressed his ear to her heart, breathing deeply. Sarah was so moved by his reaction that she felt tears welling in her own eyes. “I love you, Alex.”

“I love you, Sarah.” He raised his head, taking her hand in his. “Listen, I know you think I’ve undermined your success by producing the movie, that I’m biased and thus incapable of making an impartial decision.”

He turned her hand over, absently tracing the lifeline in her palm. “And to be completely honest, when an unpublished novel was presented to me, I wasn’t terribly interested,” he hesitated, wincing as he spoke, “until I found out you were the author.”

He held up his hands before she could berate him. “Now don’t get your knickers in a twist. I took a look at the manuscript because it was yours, but I optioned it because it was, well, marvelous. You know me. I wouldn’t put my money or my reputation on the line if I thought it was rubbish.”

She gave him a dubious look, but before she could speak, he continued. “I won’t deny that an added benefit of optioning your work was seeing you again. I’m not finished,” he said as he placed a finger over her open lips. “And I won’t deny that that prospect didn’t have anything to do with choosing to read your manuscript.” He paused, waiting for her to speak, and when she didn’t, he added, “Okay. I’m done.”

“Alex, I am so sorry about our argument. After the train accident, and having faced the possibility of never seeing you again . . . well, it has put a lot of things in perspective for me. Some things just aren’t important in the grand scheme.”

Thinking of her father’s advice, she said as she picked at the blanket across her lap, “But on the train, before the accident, I’d been thinking about it, and I realized it was my stubborn streak that made me so angry. I have to let go of this need to do everything on my own. I have to allow people to help me, especially you. Isn’t that what partners are for?

“And I’m going to start right now. I could use a little help to the bathroom.” She smiled reassuringly into his bewildered face. He recovered, laughing at her inaugural request for help.

Shaking his head, he helped her out of bed and to the bathroom, before giving her some privacy. “Call me when you’re ready to walk back to the bed.”

Sarah held onto the wall, still a little unsteady on her feet. When she opened the door to ask for his help back to bed, he sat on the bed looking at his hands, a frown on his face.

“Alex, what’s wrong?”

He rose, walking over to assist her back to the bed. After getting her settled, he sat on the bed again. “I have one more confession, and then I promise never to hide the truth from you again.”

She stiffened, her first thought of Brooke. Telling herself to remain calm, she said, “Okay. I’m listening.”

He heaved an enormous sigh. “This flat is mine.”

“What? Yours? Why would you vacate your home for me? I’m sure there were hundreds of other places where I could have stayed.” Yes, she reminded herself, too many coincidences.

“But I knew you would be comfortable here.” The frown returned. “No. That’s not the whole truth. The truth is that I relished the thought of you here . . . in my home . . . in my bed.”

“Oh.” Why did that jumpstart her heart? “That explains the food in the kitchen. I wondered how someone knew my favorite foods.”

“Yes. I wanted everything perfect for you.”

“Lord Rutherford, you are something else.” She couldn’t help laughing, but not too hard because it hurt her head.

“You’re not upset?”

“Well, I guess under the circumstances you couldn’t tell me until now, because your entire house of cards would have collapsed, though I’m glad you finally fessed-up. Come here.”

As he leaned down, she took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly at first, and then more insistently. She tried to ignore the throbbing in her head as her heart broke into a sprint.

He clung to her, remembering the pain, the uncertainty, but his brain overruled his heart . . . and his libido.

All too soon he pulled away. “Sarah, remember what the doctor said: no rigorous activity—”

“Oh bollucks.”

He raised an eyebrow at her use of British profanity.

“I’m fine.” She reached for his face again, but he grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

“No. I promised Dr. Smithwick you would follow all his orders. I’m keeping that promise.” He stood up, placing her hands primly in her lap. “You must be hungry. What can I get you to eat?”

“There’s only one thing I’m hungry for.”

He only shook his head, smiling at her corny cliché, but chose to ignore its meaning. “Sliced strawberries and mascarpone cheese on toast, with a side of extra-strength Tylenol, it is.”

She groaned in disgust as he left the room. She hated to admit it, but he was probably right. As her pulse slowed down to normal, the throbbing in her head eased. She smiled. She’d give it a couple of days and try again.

“Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?” Alex’s concerned voice came from the kitchen.

“I’m so bored.” Even reading no longer pacified her. She wanted to toss her book across the room, and she’d never felt that way about books. “I’m tired of being cooped up.”

Alex walked into the living room, where she lay propped up on the sofa, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “You mean you don’t enjoy being cooped up with me?” His face wore a look of mock distress. “I’m hurt.”

“I’d love being cooped up with you if our activities were a little more . . . rigorous.” She hoped her seductive smile was enough to persuade him.

“You only want me for my body.” Another mocking expression.

“Well, not only for your body, but yes, right now, I want your body.”

“You’re exasperating. It’s only been a week since you got home from hospital.”

His voice was placating, but it only served to aggravate her more. “But I’m going stir-crazy. Can’t we at least go for a stroll, nice and easy, nothing hardcore?” Her voice became whiny.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “If you’re a very good girl and take it easy the rest of today, we’ll go for a walk tomorrow, weather permitting.” He sat next to her on the sofa, wrapping his arm around her. “How’s that sound?”

Like you’re talking to a child, she thought.
But she was willing to take anything at this point. “Okay,” her voice going from whiny to petulant.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea! I bet you have your movies lying around here somewhere. We could watch those.” She was excited for the first time in a week, but from his expression, he wasn’t too fond of the idea. “Why not?”

“You really are bored,” he said, a little self-conscious.

“Oh come on. Do you think I haven’t seen them?”

“You have?” He didn’t know why that surprised him.

She could feel the heat in her face when she thought about the circumstances under which she’d watched the movies, over and over again, staying up all night and crying in self-pity. But he didn’t need to know that. “Of course I did,” she said, nonchalant in her response.

“Well . . ?”

It dawned on her that he was waiting for her verdict. She snuggled up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her hugging her tight.

“Oh Alex, I loved them.” She could feel his body relax. “How could I not? You really are a very talented actor, and you make the most handsome, sexy Jude, Edmund, and Angel in history. Even though I haven’t seen
Fitzwilliam Darcy
, I can say without reservation you made the most handsome Darcy ever.” She sat back abruptly, startling him. “That’s what I’d really love to see. Do you have that one?”

“I’m sure it’s here somewhere . . . if that’s what you really want . . .”

“Yes. Then I’ll be a good girl, and we can take a walk tomorrow.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Okay, but first I have to run out. Your concussion obviously hasn’t impacted your appetite. We’re out of everything in Sarah’s basic food groups: Chocolate, berries, cheese, and oh yes, chocolate.” He laughed as he walked back into the kitchen.

“What do expect?” she scoffed. “If you take away one pleasure, it must be replaced by another, even if the replacement pales in comparison.”

“You’re incorrigible,” he muttered from the kitchen.

“I heard that.”

He grabbed his keys. “I’ll be back shortly. Try to rest a little while I’m gone.”

She rolled her eyes. Like she could do anything else. “Get some popcorn–for the movie.”

He blew her a kiss before he closed the door.

She looked around the flat that had become her second home, more so now that she shared it with Alex. She could see herself living here, at least part of the year. Home would be wherever Alex was.

They hadn’t discussed anything more about their relationship since the day she left the hospital, and she didn’t want to bring it up, sensing that he wanted to wait until she was recuperated.

But from her perspective it was growing, deepening into a full-fledged significant-other kind of relationship. Would it progress to the next steps, whatever those were? She would bide her time, wait until he felt comfortable discussing it.

But she’d meant what she’d said to him about the accident putting things in perspective. She would no longer be afraid, of failure, of change, of love. She would put her heart out there for him, and the spotlight be damned. Furthermore, she would embrace her new career, and face the challenges it would undoubtedly bring.

Thankfully, aside from the day of the accident, the filming hadn’t missed a beat. Other than the U.S. shoot, all of Alex’s scenes were done. The first unit had wrapped up and was departing for the U.S., where they will begin shooting the final scenes.

The second unit was currently in Oxfordshire filming the stunt work, inserts, scenery, and cutaways. The dailies were uploaded to a website each day so that Alex could watch them, keeping everything on schedule.

With clearance from the doctor, she and Alex would fly to Atlanta, the location for the U.S. shoot, at the end of next week. Her headaches were less frequent, and the dizziness was all but gone.

Her memory of the events surrounding the accident was still spotty, but pieces were returning. Unfortunately, some of those pieces returned in the form of nightmares, something she hadn’t had since she was a child.

She sometimes woke at night in a cold sweat, the smell of smoke sharp in her nose, the sound of the explosions ringing in her ears, and her heart racing in fright. Alex would instinctively roll over, wrapping his arm around her, comforting her even as he slept.

She hoped the nightmares would recede soon. She was sure the concussion wasn’t the only cause of the overwhelming fatigue she felt each day by late afternoon. She slid down on the sofa to a more comfortable position before drifting off to sleep.

The sound of Alex’s keys in the door woke her.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” His arms were full of bags. He could have had his assistant take care of the shopping, or had the groceries delivered, but he insisted on doing it himself.

“Yes. But that’s okay.” She pushed herself up, a little groggy. “If I sleep too long, I won’t sleep tonight, and since there’s nothing more interesting to do at night, I might as well sleep.”

Even she winced at her tone of voice. She sounded like an irritable old crone. She probably looked like one too, dressed in an old T-shirt and workout pants, no makeup, her hair a mess. No wonder he wasn’t interested.

“Again with the sex,” he said from the kitchen where he was putting away the food.

“No, again with the lack thereof,” she mumbled. What was wrong with her? You’d think she was a so-called sex addict.

“The only reason I’m showing this to you is because I promised I wouldn’t keep anything from you again.”

He walked towards her holding out what looked like a tabloid newspaper, the kind you see in the checkout line at the grocery store. “You read these?” she asked, surprised.

“No, but my mother does. Don’t ask me why. She called while I was in the shop.”

The paper was folded back, his finger pointing to a spot on the page. It looked like a gossip column, aptly named ‘The Gossipmonger.’ Glancing down the column, trying to figure out why he wanted her to read it, his name and then hers finally jumped out at her:

Romance on the Set
?

Is Alex Fraser having an affair with American romance novelist Sarah Edwards? According to a reliable source, the two had what appeared to be a lover’s spat on the set of the new movie The American and the Aristocrat after Sarah caught the charming Fraser in a compromising position with sexy co-star Brooke Bellamy. Following the brief, but passionate, argument, Sarah stormed out of the house. Is the new romance already doomed?

Sarah was so stunned she didn’t notice that she’d dropped the paper to the floor until he bent over to pick it up. Don’t panic, she told herself. Spotlight be damned, remember? This presented the first test of her new resolve.

Her eyes were wide as she looked into his angry face. He knelt on the floor beside the sofa. “I am so sorry. I can only guess who leaked this.”

“Brooke.” They both said it at the same time, his voice angry, hers flat.

He took her cold hands, chaffing them for warmth. “I’m sure there’ll be more. Once these piranhas have their teeth in something, they don’t let go.” His voice was apologetic.

“At least it isn’t a headline—”

“Yet. It’ll make headlines if they get photos. I’m glad we’re leaving for the states next week. I doubt the U.S. tabloids will pick it up since I’m a relative unknown over there.”

He looked down at their entwined hands. “Sarah,” he whispered her name. “I know how you feel about the spotlight, and I wouldn’t blame you if you decided once and for all it’s not for you,” he finished, his voice gruff with anger and frustration.

“Alex, you remember the sonnet you recited to me in the hospital? ‘Love . . . is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.’ I’ve given all of this a lot of thought, and I’ve decided I can handle it. As long as you’re beside me.”