Chapter 10

Ten

LUCY

Wednesday’s work day is coming to an end, and I find myself with an unplanned evening with endless potential. Ellie and I had scheduled a chat tonight, but she needed to reschedule. Something came up with her baseball team’s trading deal…or something. I don’t follow baseball, but I know she can get busy in the office, even during the off-season.

There is something special about knowing someone since you were a kid and watching them grow and mature into a professional. The pride for them is unexplainable. Ellie is very passionate about keeping the fans engaged in the off-season. Last year, she said, “It’s easy during the season to connect with the fans, but in the off-season, that’s where it takes creativity to keep those fans engaged.”

I’ve finished my lectures for the day, and now I’m sending out reminders that Friday is the deadline to submit midterms to those students who haven’t already sent me their papers. I can’t blame those who are waiting until the last possible minute. Who hasn’t submitted papers at 11:59 p.m. on the due date?

My phone buzzes next to my laptop. It’s the unknown number from the group chat, Henry. I forgot to go back and save his number.

Henry

Hi. Having a good day?

This is extremely odd, but I’m too intrigued to ignore it.

Lucy

Yes, thank you. And you?

Dots pop up under his name. My mouth falls open to see him typing his response immediately.

Henry

It’s waiting for you if you can sneak away from your desk.

Under his text is a photo of a cold brew coffee next to what I can only assume is his hot coffee in a mug on a dark wooden table that looks very familiar. A particularly sweet gesture from a man who is the opposite of sweet. I sit back in my chair and take a few moments to decide how to proceed.

Lucy

Is this a trap? Are you trying to lure me out just to lecture me on the negative points of Mr. Tilney?

Although, how could he argue Mr. Tilney? Not only is the leading man of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey perfect, but Henry himself directed Max in the role and knows there is nothing bad to say about such an admirable character.

Henry

I have your number now, Lucy. I don’t need to trap you into coffee to discuss the ridiculousness of the fictional men you are so infatuated with.

This is simply a friendly gesture.

Lucy

Hmm… it is a tempting offer…

My curiosity gets the best of me, but I don’t let him know immediately. I grab my coat and head out the door. As I approach the coffee shop, I pull my phone out and send him a text.

Lucy

Alright, but just in case, I’m going to let my boyfriend, Fitzwilliam Darcy know where I am… Just in case your intentions are not of a gentlemanly manner. ;-)

I spot him before he notices me. He is seated at a bench table where the chair on the opposite side had been claimed by another table. I suppose he expects me to sit next to him, so odd how he always does that.

He looks down at this phone, presumably to read the text, and I notice his lips twitching slightly to one side while he reads. What a sight, but I can’t linger like a creep watching him. While he is distracted typing a response, I pull on the heavy door, and the bell above me ruins my discreet entrance. I can feel my phone buzz from his response but I decide not to check it.

Just as I suspected, he moves down on the bench, allowing me to slide in next to him. I hate to admit it, but I quite enjoy sitting next to him.

I thank him for the coffee with an inquisitive look.

“I must share—I do have a specific reason for asking you here this afternoon.” He looks down at his coffee as he talks. His knee is jumping beneath the table next to mine.

“Is everything all right?” Could something be wrong? He is acting out of sorts.

“Oh, sorry. Nothing urgent. Everyone is fine, in good health…it’s more of something I need your…advice with…” Puzzled, I silently wait for him to continue. “As you know, I’ve made a career of directing movies, romance movies, to be specific.”

“Yes, that was an…interesting discovery for me, but go on.” I notice his face fall.

“I’ve recently been informed that the production company, my production company, the only one I’ve worked with for years, has decided to make a new adaptation of Pride and Prejudice .”

I can’t control myself. I cheer loudly. “That’s so great!”

“Yes, I assumed you would be pleased to hear that. I was too. It’s the one adaptation I’ve been trying to make since my career began.”

“You’ll be directing it?” I feel my skin blush, realizing instantly that my tone was not very kind .

“No, it doesn’t look like I will be,” he says with a sigh and sadness.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” It’s not anger in his voice but defeat. “Can I ask why?” He leans closer to me and almost whispers, “This was the very reason the studio turned me down. They do not believe the viewers and fans of Jane Austen’s work, individuals like yourself, would want to see it if you knew I was the director.” Ouch, that was harsh of them.

“Can you explain your disappointment at the thought of me directing that?” As he asks, he leans closer and talks quietly to avoid being overheard.

“Henry, I adore your movies.”

“Then what is the hesitation?” His posture goes rigid as he sits up to put distance between us. Almost as if he knows what my answer will be.

“After meeting you?—”

“Yes, I know I was unpleasant when we met, but I’ve not met the majority of the viewers of my movies.” His lips push into a thin line and I notice his jaw clench.

With a slight laugh, I continue, “True, you weren’t very friendly upon our first meeting, but that wasn’t it. I did some Internet research on you. You’ve been very public about your ideas of love, which is your right to feel as you do. Yet, you seem to have a different view on romance than what the fans of romance movies, especially Jane Austen fans, would want.”

His shoulders slump, and he turns his body to face forward once again. “That’s what the production studio said. They are planning a social media campaign, and they worry it will bring the things you’re referencing to light.” With a huff, he continues, “Why can’t people look at romance movies the way they experience other things, like a roller coaster? It’s all manufactured to make you feel a particular emotion.”

“Well, that’s a very objective way of looking at it. I suppose you are quite good at it, but Pride and Prejudice means so much to people. I think we want to know it’s in the hands of someone else who cares for it as much as we do.”

“I do care. That’s why I want to direct it,” he says as his hand bunches into a fist on the table.

“Aside from a career perspective, do you truly care about sharing this love story with the world? I think they may be looking for someone who has a more outward romantic side,” I ask, trying not to sound too jaded.

“Well, how do you suggest I change people’s perception of me to appear more romantic?” he asks with an exasperated tone.

“Well, first, do you even remember how to be romantic? I assume you’ve been in love at some point in your life.” I’ve hit a nerve. His face shuts down, and he turns to look over his shoulder.

After a deep breath, causing his broad shoulder to rise and fall, he turns back to me. “It’s not about real love. It’s about manufactured love. I have learned very few people can notice a difference. At least not when watching movies or even following someone’s personal life.”

“And you think you could fool people with your manufactured love approach?” I ask with disbelief.

He smirks to himself while placing his coffee on the table to turn his body toward me. He places his arm behind me and leans slightly forward. His dark brown eyes move from my eyes to my lips. I lick them without reason as his gaze moves back to my eyes again. Without breaking eye contact, his fingers graze mine as he places my drink on the table next to his, then gently takes my hand, and his thumb begins soft strokes over the back of it.

The connection sets my body on fire, and I struggle to remember where we are or what a truly dislikable person Henry is when he speaks. Which reminds me of his mouth just as he opens it slightly to say my name in a hushed, seductive tone, “Lucy.”

My heart begins to race as my brain tries desperately to maintain composure. He raises a hand to my cheek while the other continues to hold mine. With a soft caress, he moves my face to the side and breaks our eye contact only to gain better access to my ear. He leans in closer, and as I look around to the other customers no one pays us any attention, but why would they? We appear to be a normal couple cuddling in the corner.

Then, he begins to speak, only to me, at a whisper’s volume but with a deep and certain tone, “ In vain have I struggled .” My heart stops. To hear the words I have replayed over and over in their mind, being spoken directly to me, this must be a dream. “It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” I lean closer to him as his lips brush the top of my ear before he pulls back. Strong fingers under my chin, guiding my face back to his, but this time closer than we’ve ever been before. Our lips are a moment away from each other. Those burning eyes, now darker, speak directly to my soul. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

I’m breathing again, at a more rapid pace than I would prefer to do in public. His hand drops from my chin as the other releases mine as he grabs his coffee, and smirks before taking a drink.

“Feel confident in my abilities now, Lucy?”

Well, I certainly can’t claim to be unaffected. He must notice the flush on my face, but I need to play it cool, if only a little.

“I’m appreciative that you stopped before telling me all the reasons why I am not good enough for you.” A nervous laugh escapes me. I’m stalling, trying to regain my senses.

His expression is all business as he asks again, “You didn’t answer my question. Have you changed your mind on my ability to manufacture the romance needed for this film?”

“Yes, I suppose you would be the right person to direct it.” I do not want to elaborate and tell him how unbelievably sexy that was. Also, I don’t want this adaptation to be poorly made. The anguish readers feel when their favorite book is mangled in its transition to the big screen is something I don’t want for Pride and Prejudice .

Yes, that’s the only reason, not how he left me breathless.

“Then, tell me. I can’t possibly demonstrate my talents to every Jane Austen fan, and quite frankly, I do not want to. How can I win their approval?”

Why do I feel my lips curling up into a small smile when I hear he doesn’t want to whisper in other’s ears? I know why, because that was an experience I will never forget and it’s only for me.

“What if you were to lean into the social media aspect the production company is looking for?”

“I don’t have social media,” he says with absolute resolution. There is the stubborn man I know.

“Yes, I know,” I say with a pointed look. “But you can get one and create a new image for yourself. Right now the only thing the public knows about your life after your last movie is the photos of your nights out on the town. Perhaps show them more. Or manufacture a different image.”

“How would that make me romantic?” This man clearly doesn’t understand the potential of social media.

“You don’t have to necessarily be romantic. Just give yourself some depth. You can just post a couple photos so people can know another side of you. They don’t need to be long or have any captions, for that matter, just something other than the paparazzi shots. Simple things, like your morning coffee, making dinner with your sons, or a book you are currently reading. Maybe even a photo of Pride and Prejudice on your nightstand could slip in there. But not at first that would be too obvious. It could easily be done without even posting your face. Give the public a glimpse into a more wholesome and possibly romantic side of Henry Brooks, even if it is manufactured.”

“Hmm.. Let’s get a professional opinion.” He grabs his phone, taps it quickly, and holds it to his ear. “Hi Mary, it’s Henry Brooks. Is Mark available? Yes, it’s urgent… Thank you.” He looks around the coffee shop to check that no on e is watching but turns to me and relays the social media plan into the phone in a hushed tone.

When he puts the phone down, he smiles up at me. “Mark, my agent, thinks it might work.”

He pulls out a notepad and pen from the bag I didn’t realize was sitting behind him. With his pen in hand, he asks, “Will you start over with the list of pictures I’ll need to post?”

“Well, first, you’ll need to get an account.”

“Oh, should we do that first?” he asks.

“Not exactly, let’s get the list together, then Oliver and Finn could probably assist with the account setup later. I’m not sure how to go about verifying your accounts, but I’d bet Mia would.”

“All right.” Before I can start listing photo ideas, he leans closer and says, “Thank you. I wasn’t feeling optimistic this morning, but I knew if anyone could help, it would be you.”

I feel the blush coming back, reclaiming its territory over my neck and face, but my brain steps in before my misguided infatuation can take over again. “Yes, lucky you have a Jane Austen fan in your proximity.”

“No, I’m lucky to have a Lucy Taylor in my life.” Matching his words, his gaze is more serious than I was expecting.

As he said before, he believes love is manufactured for the media and not real. Yes, I will need to repeat that to myself every time I think about him whispering Mr. Darcy’s words in my ear.

“Yes, of course, let’s get started on your list then,” I say in an attempt to move the conversation along before my hopeless romantic heart gets control of me again.

Later that night, I receive many texts from Finn and Oliver, cursing my name for placing the task of bringing Henry into the social media age on them. It’s not long before I receive the request from the “Henry Brooks - Official” account, pleasantly surprised to see that it is already verified. Very impressive. I take note of the very handsome black and white headshot they used for his account photo. I’m sure that alone will gain him many followers.