Page 64 of London, Can You Wait?

“Like what?” asked Freddie.

“Austria for starters…”

“Oh, Keegs, you didn’t—”

Mark clenched his jaw. “No, Freds, I didn’t. I fell on some rocks—from a horse.”

Freddie sputtered on his tea, all colour draining from his face. “What? You could’ve died.”

“I dislocated my shoulder. Hit the ground at the wrong angle, and it just…popped. Lex was always worried about the stunts.”

“For good reason.”

“Freddie, if she knew the truth, she would have panicked the entire shoot. It was better that she didn’t know—for both of us—but in Brum, she saw the bruising. I tweaked the truth a bit, but it wasn’t a total lie. I said I fell during a snowball fight.”

“A snowball fight?”

“Sometimes it’s best to gloss over the details, you know?” Mark sniffed his runny nose. “The occasional white lie? It’s easier on both of us…”

“I guess…” said Freddie.

“But this time, I should’ve been completely straight with her. If I had told Lex the truth about that chemistry read, who Fallon was, the sex scenes in the script—”

“You have sex scenes with her?” Freddie lowered his tea. “Proper nudity with grinding and orgasm faces—the whole meal deal?”

“Yep. Bare butts, breasts, you name it, you see it—well, almost see it.”

“Shit, Keegs. No wonder Lex got blotto when she found that out. You should have told her.”

He slowly sat up. “Don’t you think I know that? She wouldn’t have been too happy about it, but at least it wouldn’t have come as a shock last night. New Year’s would have been completely different.”

“Mate, be honest.” Freddie leaned on the counter. “Did you know Fallon was coming to that read?”

“No. Fuck!” Mark winced, unable to get comfortable. “I don’t stay in touch with her. I haven’t seen her in four or five years. Last time I saw her was at her mum’s funeral. I didn’t know she was coming to read until she showed up. I have wanted to tell Lex everything, but she hasn’t been herself lately. That morning in Manchester, Lex seemed…distracted. I asked her what was wrong—a few times—but got the same answer every time: she hates us being apart. Maybe there’s more to it?”

“Like that’s not enough…” Simon chomped his toast.

“You haven’t noticed anything, have you?” Mark rubbed his eyes. “Panic attacks?”

Freddie shrugged. “Don’t think so.”

“Carrying this movie has been so fucking stressful. When Lex left the party, I just…let loose. I thought I could handle it…stop before I went too far, yeah? I didn’t plan on blacking out or waking up starkers in Fallon’s bed.” His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. “I lifted the duvet, saw her naked…I just…knew we must have…” He closed his eyes tight and inhaled slowly. “I panicked—got out of there as quick as I could. It was only when I slipped into bed beside Alex, I realized I could still smell Fallon’s perfume on my skin.”

“Oh, Mark,” said Freddie.

Simon stopped chewing.

Mark glared at Simon. “Fallon was as horrified as I was, by the way. She was in tears, worried about Duff.”

“Duff?” asked Simon.

“Some rugby player she’s been seeing a few weeks.”

“Nice, more casualties.” Simon snorted. “Where was he when you had your tongue down Fallon’s throat, then?”

“He left after Lex. Curfew—” Mark fought back a sneeze. “He had a match today.”

“So, you just missed spending New Year’s in a full-body cast.” Simon shook his head. “Luck of the Irish.”

“Right. Come on, Mark. Get ready to grovel.” Freddie slammed his mug on the counter.