that ...would she?
Feeling sick, he read on.
Bad enough. The article was asking if he was lacking confidence, given that his last film was the first one for nearly ten years where he hadn’t been nominated for a single award—would the new one be more of the same? The sly insinuation was that he’d passed his peak, this film was his last chance, and he was about to blow it.
He rolled his eyes. That was utterly ridiculous. Every actor or director made at least one film that didn’t touch a chord with the audience as much as the others. You couldn’t be at the top of the tree for your entire career. Life didn’t work that way.
Was this story the handiwork of Fleur’s cronies? Or maybe, he thought, Mimi’s, given that he hadn’t taken her up on her offers of being available. It could be her way of getting back at him, by hitting out at him professionally.
But he was just grateful that it wasn’t the article he’d been dreading. The topic that Fleur had promised not to air—though that had been before the guilt kicked in and she’d started vilifying him to make herself feel better about the fact she’d cheated on him.
Is Luke lacking?
Yes.
Because he hadn’t been able to give his wife the baby she wanted.
Some people coped with infertility. They had counselling, they tried IVF, they thought about different routes to having a family.
But Fleur hadn’t wanted any of that. She’d just wanted a baby of her own, without having to go through invasive therapy or an emotional wringer. So she’d found herself someone who could provide what her husband couldn’t.
Baloo wriggled her way onto his lap and licked his face.
He stroked her head. ‘Are you trying to cheer me up?’
She wagged her tail hard.
‘You’re right. I should just stop the pity party and do something useful. Like take you for a walk.’
What had Jess said to him before?
A good run with a dog at your side will definitely put the world to rights. Even if you do have to go out in public wearing dark glasses and a silly hat.
‘Do I need dark glasses and a silly hat?’ he asked the dog.
Baloo just gave him that dopey doggy grin.
‘Wearing dark glasses makes it look as if I’ve got something to hide.’
Well, he had. His infertility.
‘Or as if I’m letting that article get to me—meaning there’s some truth in it.’
Which there wasn’t. Even though it had got to him, just a bit.
‘Right, then. No hat,’ he said. ‘No glasses. We’re going for a run, just as we are.’
He was surprised to discover that Jess was right. Going for a run with the dog by his side made him feel so much better and blew away some of the misery of that article. He had an endorphin rush from the run and he had the companionship of the dog. And other dog owners were smiling at him—not because he was Luke McKenzie, but because he had a dog with him and it was a shared fellowship.
When they got back to his house, Luke was feeling so much better. On impulse, he pulled out his mobile phone and typed a text to Jess. You were right about taking the dog for a run.
Then he paused. There was no point in sending this. She’d already said she was busy this weekend, and it wasn’t fair to burden her with the way he felt. And sending that text would be pathetic and needy.
He could deal with this himself. Just like he had with every other emotional issue since his marriage imploded.
Grimacing, he pressed a button to delete the text.
*
You were right about taking the dog for a run.
Jess read the text and frowned.
Why would Luke send her such a cryptic message?
And what had she said to him about a run?
She racked her brain, then remembered. It was the evening when she’d teased him about his awful beanie hat. She’d told him that when you’d had a bad day, the best thing you could do was to go for a run with a dog at your side.
Which meant that Luke was having a really bad day—particularly as he’d admitted that she was right.
They weren’t
Feeling sick, he read on.
Bad enough. The article was asking if he was lacking confidence, given that his last film was the first one for nearly ten years where he hadn’t been nominated for a single award—would the new one be more of the same? The sly insinuation was that he’d passed his peak, this film was his last chance, and he was about to blow it.
He rolled his eyes. That was utterly ridiculous. Every actor or director made at least one film that didn’t touch a chord with the audience as much as the others. You couldn’t be at the top of the tree for your entire career. Life didn’t work that way.
Was this story the handiwork of Fleur’s cronies? Or maybe, he thought, Mimi’s, given that he hadn’t taken her up on her offers of being available. It could be her way of getting back at him, by hitting out at him professionally.
But he was just grateful that it wasn’t the article he’d been dreading. The topic that Fleur had promised not to air—though that had been before the guilt kicked in and she’d started vilifying him to make herself feel better about the fact she’d cheated on him.
Is Luke lacking?
Yes.
Because he hadn’t been able to give his wife the baby she wanted.
Some people coped with infertility. They had counselling, they tried IVF, they thought about different routes to having a family.
But Fleur hadn’t wanted any of that. She’d just wanted a baby of her own, without having to go through invasive therapy or an emotional wringer. So she’d found herself someone who could provide what her husband couldn’t.
Baloo wriggled her way onto his lap and licked his face.
He stroked her head. ‘Are you trying to cheer me up?’
She wagged her tail hard.
‘You’re right. I should just stop the pity party and do something useful. Like take you for a walk.’
What had Jess said to him before?
A good run with a dog at your side will definitely put the world to rights. Even if you do have to go out in public wearing dark glasses and a silly hat.
‘Do I need dark glasses and a silly hat?’ he asked the dog.
Baloo just gave him that dopey doggy grin.
‘Wearing dark glasses makes it look as if I’ve got something to hide.’
Well, he had. His infertility.
‘Or as if I’m letting that article get to me—meaning there’s some truth in it.’
Which there wasn’t. Even though it had got to him, just a bit.
‘Right, then. No hat,’ he said. ‘No glasses. We’re going for a run, just as we are.’
He was surprised to discover that Jess was right. Going for a run with the dog by his side made him feel so much better and blew away some of the misery of that article. He had an endorphin rush from the run and he had the companionship of the dog. And other dog owners were smiling at him—not because he was Luke McKenzie, but because he had a dog with him and it was a shared fellowship.
When they got back to his house, Luke was feeling so much better. On impulse, he pulled out his mobile phone and typed a text to Jess. You were right about taking the dog for a run.
Then he paused. There was no point in sending this. She’d already said she was busy this weekend, and it wasn’t fair to burden her with the way he felt. And sending that text would be pathetic and needy.
He could deal with this himself. Just like he had with every other emotional issue since his marriage imploded.
Grimacing, he pressed a button to delete the text.
*
You were right about taking the dog for a run.
Jess read the text and frowned.
Why would Luke send her such a cryptic message?
And what had she said to him about a run?
She racked her brain, then remembered. It was the evening when she’d teased him about his awful beanie hat. She’d told him that when you’d had a bad day, the best thing you could do was to go for a run with a dog at your side.
Which meant that Luke was having a really bad day—particularly as he’d admitted that she was right.
They weren’t
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