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“In Kettletoft, yeah. You’re there, too, right?”
“No. The B&B down the road.”
“Ahh.” Nick scratched his head. “How are you feeling these days?”
He’s actually going there? She looked downward, discomfort coiling inside her. “All right. More good days than bad.”
“That’s great. I’m happy to hear it.”
And…? She glanced up at him, and Nick flashed her a tight smile then blinked ahead, plunging into silence. What, that’s it?!
Did he completely bottle it? Or was that all he cared to say?
Either way, Evie felt miffed. Well, this rivals my breakup beach stroll with Stuart for awkwardness. She racked her brain for something innocuous to talk about, something like…work! “So, early call time tomorrow.”
“Yes!” Nick replied quickly. “Need to get everything wrapped so we can catch the last ferry. Gotta keep this beast on schedule—or else.”
“How is it, working behind the scenes?”
“Fan-bloody-tastic. Being in control, there’s nothing like it.”
“You don’t miss acting?”
“No, but I did in the beginning.” He swerved a blob of seaweed. “My identity was so tied up in being an actor, I didn’t recognize myself. But therapy helped me realize acting was a job and not a personality type. It’s also made a huge difference with my panic disorder.”
She grinned up at him. “I’m glad.”
“Thanks. Even so, I was still shit scared working behind the cameras, especially when I didn’t earn my first job on merit.”
Ages back, Fiona had told Evie about his mother pulling strings, working her contacts to land Nick a plum gig.
“But I worked my arse off. Found my feet eventually and landed in New York as the BBC’s VP of TV Sales and Co-Productions.”
Evie plowed her hands into her coat’s pockets. “That’s more than finding your feet, Nick.”
He smiled. “Yeah, New York was immense: the restaurants, the clubs, the shopping—I couldn’t get enough. And the job was incredible. I was even in the running for the senior VP position. Would’ve bagged it, too, if things hadn’t blown up.”
The sex scandal four years ago. Evie knew it well, having read and re-read (several times) the tabloid kiss-and-tell entitled ‘Lairds Stunner Bree Nicked with Stripper’, which temporarily foisted him back into the headlines again. Nick and former co-star Bree, who was starring as the female lead in the popular Lairds and Liars series at the time, were at a television festival in Banff, Alberta where they hooked up with a TV exec from Glasgow, a former topless dancer. Months later when the woman lost her broadcasting job, she sold her story and the sex tape of her racy, booze-fueled night with the two former Dalston Grove stars to the highest bidder—The National Mail. The exposé was like a wrench to Evie’s heart, leaving her wondering if she had ever known Nick at all.
He sighed wistfully. “I learned the hard way. Now I no longer fish off the company dock or mix business with pleasure, no matter how tempting.”
Playing back what she’d witnessed at The Odin a few weeks previously, Evie squinted at the sand. So he’s not dating Ashley then?
He winced into a self-depreciating grin. “It’s amazing how seeing pixelated screengrabs of your junk at the local newsstand can change you. And the fallout dragged on for months. Whispers behind my back, snide jokes in the break room, and then the final slap—they packaged me out. Losing a job I loved, and for such a stupid reason. I was gutted.”
“What did you do?”
“Returned to London, disappeared to Greece for a bit. Tried to get my shit together. I started ringing old colleagues, hoping someone somewhere still believed in me. It took a while, but last year a friend from uni invited me to join his production company as an executive producer. He wanted to build a reliable, hardworking team, and I was ‘sign me up!’ Around that time, Ashley moved to London with her new husband and I hired her again as my assistant.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, she worked with me in New York.”
“Is she still married?” asked Evie.
“Yep. Quite happily, too. Why’d you ask?”
Evie swooped, collecting a piece of pink sea glass. “You guys looked really cozy at The Odin last month.”
