Page 36 of From LA to London, With Love

I parked the pram next to the trailer steps and carried Elliot, who was really starting to fuss, up the stairs. I did a double-take when we entered. For some reason, I’d been expecting the interior of the trailer to look like the caravan my parents had rented one summer holiday—cheap linoleum floors, laminate cabinets and dusty curtains. Instead, it had polished hardwood floors, a sparkling kitchen with marble worktops, a wooden bar cabinet presumably stocked with booze, and a living space almost as big as my parents’ living room, lined with plush couches.

Again, I took the extravagance of it all as a slap in the face. This trailer probably cost as much as a real house. Sophie, you’re clearly in a terrible mood. You weren’t complaining the other week about the luxurious penthouse in Barcelona and flying first class. I had an inkling that my disappointment on the chaise lounge and jealousy over Chris and Clare were more to thank for my bad mood than anything else. I gingerly took a seat on the couch and fed Elliot while Chris got ready for his scene.

Elliot stopped feeding, milk drunk and pink-cheeked, and gave an impressive yawn.

“Well, we should head off now,” I said with forced cheer. “The little man is due for a nap. He’s not used to this much excitement!”

That look flashed across Chris’s face again. A twinge of guilt about how I was behaving prodded me in the chest.

Chris followed me down the stairs. Elliot’s yawns became even more dramatic, and by the time I had exited the trailer and put him back in the pram, his eyes were firmly shut.

“Since he’s sleeping now, do you want to hang around and see part of our scene being filmed?” Chris asked.

I glanced down at Elliot, who was sound asleep and emitting adorable little snores. God, he was cute. He’d most likely wake up if I put him in the car, so I was probably better off staying at the set until he woke. Plus, I was interested to see filming in action. And I really needed to stop being such a grump after Chris had gone out of his way to show us around.

“That sounds good. He’ll probably wake in about forty minutes, so we’ll come for the first half hour and scurry away before he starts screaming and ruins your take!”

“Sounds like a plan! After last week’s incident with Alfie, I think the director would be less than thrilled if that happened.”

The scene was set in the formal gardens at the back of the manor. Chris hadn't told me anything about what they were filming, but it became apparent as soon as I heard the words “Lights, camera, action” that it was a romantic scene between Chris and Clare’s characters. They were standing facing each other and holding hands. My heart sank.

Of course, just what I need.

“Eliza, I cannot go on any longer with this charade. From the moment I saw you, I have been transfixed by your wit, your good heart, your headstrong nature. My heart is yours. Do you feel the same?” Chris gave Clare a look of desire and longing, and a pain shot into my chest.

“I do, but—”

Before Clare had finished her sentence, Chris had drawn her to him and was passionately kissing her. He grabbed her hair, and she clutched his back, hungrily devouring each other. The chemistry between them was undeniable. A lump formed in my throat. I’d seen enough.

So, it appeared, had Alfie, who had been sitting happily in Jenny’s arms next to me, watching the scene being filmed. As their lips locked, he jumped out of her grasp and raced toward the intertwined couple. Chris and Clare were too caught up in their kiss to notice the bundle of fur hurtling at them. Alfie leaped into the air. I could have sworn he was trying to break them up, like a teacher at a school dance when the students’ PDA got out of hand, but he misjudged his leap and got tangled under Clare’s voluminous dress. Trapped in fabric, Alfie panicked, jumping and yelping, almost toppling Clare over.

Everyone had frozen, watching Alfie’s mad dash in horror, but once Clare started teetering precariously, the set leaped into action. Jenny, looking aghast, and three other crew members raced toward Clare and Chris. Chris got down on his knees, trying to untangle Alfie from Clare’s dress. I stood there helplessly—with Elliot in the pram, there wasn’t a lot I could do, since I wasn’t going to leave him unattended. As Chris got further into Clare’s dress, the dark cloud that had been hanging over me for most of the set visit lifted slightly. Despite my discomfort at their kiss, I had to fight the urge to giggle at the sight of Chris burrowing around under layers of fabric, his perfect tight butt high in the air, his upper body hidden under Clare’s dress, and poor Clare’s shocked face.

The director, a serious-looking woman with short brown hair and thick black glasses, had a pained expression on her face as she watched it all unfold. “That dog just ruined the entire take, and they were nailing it too! He better not have damaged her dress, or it’ll throw out the whole schedule. Not to mention the cost…I’m going to kill Chris. He promised me he’d control the dog this time,” she muttered to the assistant director standing next to her.

All of the yelling and barking woke Elliot up, who started screaming at the top of his lungs. I unbuckled him quickly and bounced him in my arms, trying to calm him down. I gave the director an apologetic grimace as she glared at us.

Chris, Jenny, and some other crew members finally untangled Alfie, Chris emerging from under Clare’s petticoats looking disheveled. He’d definitely need hair and makeup before filming proceeded. Much to everyone’s relief, Clare’s gorgeous gown wasn’t damaged—Alfie had only got caught up in the petticoat underneath, although he had put a run in her stockings.

Alfie retrieved and Elliot awake and happy back in his pram, I decided it really was time to head off. I didn’t want to watch them re-film that kiss, and I was fairly confident the director had just banned Alfie, and possibly Elliot, for life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SOPHIE

I GROANED. “I’m usually a pretty level-headed person, but I was all over the place. It was a complete emotional rollercoaster. One minute, I was ready to jump Chris, and then the next, I was really irritated that he could actually hold a conversation about private jets. And then I was filled with intense jealousy seeing him and Clare making out.”

Josh and I were in my parents’ living room, sitting on the floor playing with Elliot. Josh had dropped around ostensibly to visit Elliot and say hello to my parents, but mostly to drill me about what it was like on set.

He started singing Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” at Elliot, who giggled with glee, waving his hands about. While pleased Elliot was a Beyonce fan, I was less impressed with the implications of Josh’s song choice.

“Josh! I’m not in love with him. Okay, I might have a small—a very small—crush on him, but that’s not love.” Describing it as small might have been an undersell. To be honest, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Chris. Each time my phone pinged, I’d jump up to check it immediately in case it was him. I constantly wondered what he was doing and had to resist the urge to message him silly updates about Elliot and Alfie all the time.

In fact, I’d been missing his company so much, I’d resorted to watching all his movies with Dad in the evenings, even though Dad drove me up the wall with his constant questions and comments. “Are his muscles that big in real life, Sophie, or do they CGI them?”, “He is such a good actor, see the way he looks at her right there…Let me pause it so I can show you…”

But just because I missed Chris didn’t mean I was in love with him…right?

Josh had stopped singing but was still humming the tune as I continued.