‘Always,’ I say, echoing him from earlier.
We lock eyes, that word lingering between us, and I instantly regret it. I’m barely being honest with myself right now, let alone with Nick. But there’s also the other promise that word carries – a promise of a shared future.
‘I’ll see you later then.’
Nick shoots me another quick smile, then leaves, and I stand there staring at a closed door for a very long time.
Because something tells me I’m going to love his screenplay and if I do, things between me and Nick will only get more complicated. Hard to avoid someone you’re attracted to when you’re turning their screenplay into a movie.
14
NICK
Delaney’s reading my screenplay. Delaney’s reading my screenplay. Delaney’s reading my screenplay.
The words run through my mind on repeat as I ride the funicular to the marina, teetering on the verge of emotional freefall.
What if she hates it?
What if she loves it?
That’s what she said to me earlier – Delaney and her unwavering optimism. ‘You could learn a lot from her,’ I tell myself, and the woman beside me gives me a strange look – hmm, probably shouldn’t talk to myself in public.
Delaney also asked if I have a fear of success, but I don’t believe I do. It’s more that my parentsstilldon’t understand why I chose film over medicine – even after fifteen years. Nor do Hugh and Colin, so I never hear the end of it when the whole family gets together. Dan and Becks are my only allies but they must be exhausted after all these years of standing up for me. Now I take it on the chin, smiling politely when my family make jibes at my expense.
Imagine if I told them I’d written a love story. Hugh and Colin would compete for the longest, loudest laugh.
Maybe Delaney’s right. The only way they’d find out is if it gets made into a film – I’m hardly going to blurt it out at a family dinner – so, in a way, Icouldbe afraid of success. When it comes to this anyway.
I arrive at the marina and instead of trying somewhere new, I return to the restaurant from the first day. The same waiter greets me with a nod of recognition, and I choose a table closest to the waterfront. He’s by my side seconds later.
‘Buongiorno! Caffè?’
It’s a reasonable assumption given it’s breakfast time. I don’tneedanother coffee – but why the hell not? I’ve got hours to kill while Delaney readsWhere the Road Ends.
‘Ah, sì, e un cornetto al cioccolato, per favore.’
He disappears and I look around, making mental notes, which take the form of a screenplay – as they often do.
EXT. WATERFRONT RESTAURANT – GRAND MARINA, CAPRI – MORNING
A handful of boats bob in the nearly empty marina. Waiters at the waterfront restaurants thread through tables filled with tourists, carrying trays of coffee and pastries.
Seagulls shriek as they fight over an abandoned cornetto. Cutlery clinks. People chatter. A couple bickers in Italian.
The sea reflects the bright-blue sky, while in the distance hangs a grey cloud of dust, smoke, and debris.
At a waterfront table, NICK (mid-30s) observes with a keen eye while waiting nervously to learn his fate.
If only I’d brought my laptop – that wasn’t half-bad, if a little OTT. It’s not as if I’m waiting on life-or-death news.
The waiter returns with my order and this time I get in, ‘Grazie,’ before he leaves. He flashes the briefest, tiniest of smiles.Look at that – I’m practically a local.If the winds don’t pick up and this ash cloud hovers over Europe indefinitely, I may actuallybecomea local.
Would that be so bad?
The short answer isno– it’s beautiful here – the scenery, the food, the briny air… And it would mean more time with Delaney, which shouldn’t be in the plus column, but is. She’s just so… vibrant? Is that the right word? Vivacious?
Come on, James – you’re a writer, for fuck’s sake – pick a word, any word.