Page 66 of From LA to London, With Love

I swallowed. “Chris, I’m not sure that I can deal with being in that type of situation again, especially not with Elliot.”

Chris’s brow furrowed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I screwed up. I should’ve known better, going into such a touristy area without security detail. The attention is always worse here—Chicagoans love their homegrown celebrities—and in LA, probably due to people being on the lookout for the rich and famous there. I got complacent being in London and forgot what it could be like. I promise I won’t make that mistake again.”

I still felt uneasy. “But bodyguards can only do so much, right? Like, they might stop people from getting too close to us, but they won’t be able to stop people from forming crowds around us, screaming at us, filming us.”

Chris took a deep breath. “I know. You’re right. So, um, I’ve been thinking about something lately that might help…I’ve been thinking that I want to cut down on work and take a step back from the public eye, which should mean less media and fan attention. Reducing the roles I take on, avoiding any big blockbuster movies—no more superhero or action films—and focusing on projects that I’ll enjoy but won’t attract a massive fan base. Indie films, maybe a Netflix series, that sort of thing. It won’t have an immediate impact, and I’m still locked in for one more Muscle Man movie, but I hope it'll give you some comfort that life with me won’t involve constantly having to deal with fans and paparazzi. And in the meantime, I’ll make sure I err on the side of caution when it comes to bringing security detail with us. What do you think?”

Taken aback, I looked at him closely. “But you love acting! Are you sure this is what you want?”

Chris rubbed his hands together, looking down at his feet and then back at me. He smiled. “Yes. I’m positive. I think I loved acting so much partly because I wasn’t satisfied with my own life. But now, I’m resenting the long hours because I just want to hang out with you and Elliot, and Alfie, too, of course. Why pretend to be someone else anymore when my own life is so great?”

Warmth radiated across my body at Chris’s words, which addressed my last major concern about embarking on a full-blown relationship with him. It wouldn’t be an immediate fix, but his plan gave me comfort that today’s events wouldn’t be the new normal if we stayed together. And in the meantime, his security team would at least keep us safe.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHRIS

MOUTHWATERING aromas hit me as soon as I opened the door. They must have struck Alfie as well, because he pulled at the leash, leaping with excitement. I took off his harness, and he raced down the hall into the kitchen.

I stood in the hallway and yelled, “I’m home. Is it safe to come in?”

Sophie kicked me out of the house two hours ago, telling me to take Alfie for a walk. A long walk.

“Stop! Don’t go any further. Put this on.” She came out of the kitchen, smiling, and handed me a blindfold.

Oh god. I really hoped she hadn’t organized a surprise party for me. Despite being an actor, I didn’t actually like being the center of attention, especially not on my birthday. I put it on cautiously. Blindfolded, Sophie led me down the hallway.

We’d been back from Chicago for a few weeks, and things between us were better than ever. But I’d always found celebrating the first birthday in a new relationship nerve-wracking. The other person’s expectations in terms of presents, celebratory activities, and overall fanfare were unknown quantities. Vanessa had insisted on celebrating her “birthday month,” in what seemed like a never-ending schedule of special dinners, cocktails, day spas, and other activities. The first year we were together, I’d given her a luxury glamping trip to Joshua Tree National Park for her birthday, after she’d mentioned she’d always wanted to go there. While she’d enjoyed it in the end, she’d made it clear that for all future birthdays, she expected expensive jewelry. Very expensive jewelry. I was relieved my birthday had fallen first this time around. At least this way, Sophie’s approach would give me some guidance regarding her expectations. I’d told her not to worry about doing anything, but she’d insisted she wanted to do something to celebrate it.

“Happy birthday!” Sophie said, removing the blindfold.

An impressive spread of food, and only two table settings, covered the table. I breathed a sigh of relief. And in the middle of the table was the bust of the Hungarian Vizsla, the one I’d regretted not bidding on at the auction. A red ribbon was tied around his neck. A grin spread across my face.

“Oh my god, the Vizsla! Sophie! And all the food as well. It looks and smells amazing.”

She smiled at me. “Since you can buy pretty much anything you want, I decided to cook some of our favorite Ottolenghi dishes, as well as a few you wanted to make but I previously rejected on the grounds they had over fifteen ingredients, and your mum’s meatballs. And I convinced Sharon to part with the dog statue. It turned out Tina hated it and refused to display it in their apartment, so that wasn’t hard!”

Sophie handed me an envelope. “And here’s your birthday card.”

I pulled out the card, which had a drawing of cute dog holding a bunch of balloons in its mouth on the front. Smiling, I opened it.

Happy Birthday, babe!

Thank you for being such a great boyfriend, role model to Elliot, and doggy dad to Alfie. The last few months have been some of the happiest of my life. I’m looking forward to celebrating many more birthdays together.

Love, Sophie

My heart collapsed into a warm, gooey mess. I put my arms around Sophie, giving her a big squeeze.

“Thanks, gorgeous. I’m looking forward to that as well.” I kissed the top of her head, breathing in her familiar scent.

Buying presents for me was challenging—what to buy a man who could literally afford anything he wanted—but this was perfect. While I felt confident Sophie wouldn’t be expecting a diamond necklace for Christmas, which was only weeks away, or her birthday in March, I’d need to start planning now to come up with something similarly thoughtful.

At this rate, March would be here in no time. Life seemed to be flashing by. Filming had just wrapped up, and I was enjoying having so much time to spend with Sophie and Elliot—going for walks, helping to fix up Pride House and repaint her parents’ living room, and planning a trip to Italy early next year for the three of us. I’d also had time to look into my idea for turning my public humiliation into something worthwhile, researching laws about sharing explicit images without consent in the UK and the US and reaching out to some not-for-profit organizations who already worked in this area to see if I could help advocate for legal reform.

“We should make a start, before it gets cold,” Sophie said, her eyes sparkling as she raised her glass of wine.

God, she was cute.