Second Chance - Jane Green [49]
Her sharing was always startlingly honest and usually peppered with swear words, which made him smile. He always found himself commenting on something she had shared – whatever she said always seemed to speak directly to him – and he found that on the rare occasions she didn’t turn up at a meeting, he missed her, would wonder where she was.
He had been married for seven years. Ah the seven-year itch, people would joke, but in truth the itch had started at one. It had become a business arrangement. They didn’t have children, and he would have divorced her years ago, but both their agents said their careers needed them to stay together, at least for now – so much mileage out of being Hollywood’s golden couple.
For they loved his wife as much as they loved him. She wasn’t, admittedly, in the same league, but she was beautiful and down-to-earth – at least in public – and they put on a great show of appearing to adore one another.
Both of them had flings on movie sets, but both learnt to be discreet, and the truth was they were friends, they still liked each other, and they accepted that this was the way it had to be for now.
His agent strongly advised him against getting involved with anyone else. The press would get hold of it instantly, he said, and it would be disastrous, more so for him, who had such an image to protect. The alcoholism had been kept out of the papers, as should affairs of the heart. ‘Fuck who you want and be discreet,’ his agent said. ‘But don’t fall in love.’
It took about a year for him and Saffron to start having coffee after meetings. And then coffee became an occasional lunch, and soon they were chatting on the phone every day. Saffron had the glow of a woman in love, and P felt as if he were eighteen again – full of hope and excitement about the future.
He kissed her in her living room. Far too recognizable to take a chance of kissing her in public, he came in one day after dropping her off and, as soon as they walked in, they both knew things were different. Saffron knew that today something would happen.
She had stopped worrying about him being married, stopped worrying about his desire not to fall in love. All she could think about was him. Not because he was a movie star, not because of the fame or the money, but because she adored him. Because he made her laugh. Because he understood her like no one else in the world and because she understood him.
Their friendship was unlike any Saffron had ever had. Perhaps because of the intimacy fostered in the safe confines of their meetings, they revealed things to each other that neither had ever told anyone else.
‘I think I’ve fallen in love with you,’ P whispered just before he kissed her, and Saffron pretended she needed the loo immediately afterwards. She stood with her hands resting on the basin, weeping quietly with tears of joy.
Their affair progressed, always in private, often with other people around to throw the press off the scent. He even got her a part in his movie to legitimize their being seen together.
She, in turn, manufactured a romance with her co-star, a lesser but rising star, and they were regularly photographed kissing on beaches while walking their three rescue dogs. The co-star was grateful that his lover – a male model – remained a secret and, of course, Saffron couldn’t be linked to anyone else while so clearly in love with her co-star.
Saffron learnt to put her life on hold for P. He would phone her