I’m shaking my head, and James steps forward and takes my shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Issy,” he says, “I know this might be too fast for you. Believe me. There’s no other way. I won’t risk that you’re misrepresented in this.”
I close my eyes, trying to stem my racing thoughts.
I can’t stand that I’d be involved, in any way, with a marriage ending.
“What about Madison?” I whisper, hating that anyone might be disadvantaged because of me. I only met Madison once. But I liked her a lot.
“She’ll be fine,” says James. “The marriage was only ever designed to give her a short term publicity boost. We just didn’t get around to ending it because neither of us needed to.”
He’s looking urgently into my eyes. “The marriage has done all it could for her, Issy. She’s back to blockbuster movies now. Besides, it’s about time she made herself available for some romance of her own.”
He smiles at me. But when I can’t return the expression, he holds my shoulders tighter. I realise that I’m shaking.
“Issy,” he whispers, “I love you. You have to remember. My marriage to Madison isn’t real. There was no ceremony.”
“I…” I search for the words. “I know that,” I say. “In my head at least. But…” I am staring into his green eyes. “It’s still marriage,” I say simply. I can’t think of how else I can explain it.
James’s eyes are filled with pain.
“It’s not just that,” I add. “There’s how you’ll be portrayed if you announce it…” I let the words trail off. I remember him telling me before that a fast divorce meant painting him as the heartbreaker.
“You don’t need to concern yourself about that,” says James tightly.
“Will they make you out to be the bad guy?” I whisper.
James nods.
“That’s how it works, Issy. You don’t have to worry. My career doesn’t rest on my public image.”
I know I’m overreacting, but I feel tears start to well.
“But it’s so unfair,” I stammer. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
James looks weary suddenly.
“That’s not entirely true, Issy,” he says. “It was wrong of Madison and I to pretend we were married. But at the time…”
He runs his hand through his brown hair again, in that gesture I love.
“Things were so different,” he says. “I never thought I would ever be able to make that promise. I thought the part of me that could commit to a woman was gone. If it ever even existed.” He’s staring at me intently now. “So it wasn’t important to me. It didn’t mean so much, as it does since I met you.”
I feel myself falling into his green eyes.
This is intense. Is he telling me I’ve changed his view of marriage?
“In any case,” he adds, the former expression dropping from his face. “I need to announce the divorce. And I need to know you’re ok with that, Issy.”
His eyes are back on mine now, pleading with me to understand. I blink back at him, and let out the breath I’ve been holding.
Do it, Issy, part of me says. This man deserves your understanding.
“Ok,” I say slowly. “Do whatever you think best.”
This, at least, puts the matter in his hands.
He gives a curt nod. And then something else occurs to me.
“I’m guessing we’ll have to stay away from one another,” I say in a quiet little voice. “To avoid suspicion.”
James gives me a distracted glance.
“In the UK, we can’t be seen together,” he says, nodding. “Not unless you’re acting and I’m directing. At least until the divorce storm settles. I don’t know how much the newspapers know, but there’s a chance they might send photographers to try and get into the studio.”
My heart sinks. I can’t stand the idea of seeing him on set and not being able to spend time with him alone.
“That’s why we’re leaving the UK for a time,” James concludes.
What?
“Leaving the UK?” My voice is clear confusion. Is he suggesting we run away together?
“I’ve made preliminary arrangements,” James is saying as my mind races around what he means. “We’ll fly a skeleton crew out tomorrow.”
“Wait. James. What exactly are you suggesting?” The words come out more primly than I mean them to, and James gives a half-smile at my tone.
“We’re due to film a few scenes on location,” he says, “for part of the movie. There’s a part where Grace travels to Europe to report on a story. Remember that?”
“Um. Yeah.” I let the script run through my brain. My character, Grace, is reporting in Spain at one point. But I hadn’t considered it would involve actually shooting on location. I thought they’d just mock it up with sets.
“So,” says James patiently, “I’ll rejig things. Bring those scenes forward.”
“Rejig things?”
“We’ll be starting the location shots in Barcelona tomorrow,” he explains. “That will give us a chance to lose the paps.”
Barcelona! I love the idea of returning to Spain with James. My mind swims with possibilities. Then practicality sets in.
“Won’t they follow us out there?” I say uncertainly. I’ve seen plenty of pictures in magazines taken of celebrities on beaches. Paparazzi seem to go wherever it takes to get their shots.
“That’s why I’m announcing the divorce,” says James. “Playing the paparazzi involves strategizing. Like chess,” he adds with an unreadable expression. “You set up scenarios to force your enemy to make false moves.”
I could be wrong. But it seems as though he might enjoy this. The game of playing the paparazzi.
“So… you think the divorce will send the paps elsewhere?” I guess.
James gives a curt nod.
“I hope so. That’s the way I’ve devised it. Madison will stay here in London,” he explains. “So the papers have a good story on their doorsteps. Heartbroken mega star. Madison will ramp up the sob story,” he adds, catching my expression at the
