Evie reassured him gently, pointing out that it was a great chance to capitalise on his acting experience and that no other actor could possibly have as much of an insight into Ryan as he did. They talked about the short book tour of Italy Hugo would be leaving for the next morning.

‘I can’t believe you’re going again already.’

Hugo nodded, leaning on his elbows against the counter. His face was so close that Evie could make out the little flecks of gold that accented his eyes.

‘I feel like you just got home,’ Evie said, trying not to sound whiney.

‘I know. It’s been a crazy few months,’ Hugo said. ‘And I hate being away from you.’

‘There’s absolutely no chance of delaying?’ Evie couldn’t help herself—that jittery feeling had lingered. She didn’t want to be home alone in this huge house. Again.

‘Please, Evie, don’t make me feel bad.’

‘I just wish we could be in one place, together, for more than five consecutive days …’ Evie began, though she knew what was to come.

‘You know that all I want to do is be with you. But there’s just so much going on—’

‘With the book, the screenplay, and now with the possibility of you acting in the film! I get it.’ Evie stood up, desperate suddenly to step beneath the shower in their bathroom, to wash these emotions from her body.

‘Hey, don’t be like that, Evie.’

Evie sighed, hating every inch of herself. ‘I’m sorry, I just miss you when you’re not here.’

Coming over, Hugo enveloped Evie in his strong arms, holding her tight. ‘There’s always a part of me here with you, no matter how far away I am. And I leave it right—’ he paused, tapping his finger against her chest near the delicate necklace he’d given her ‘—here.’

The chain scratched against her skin, and Evie imagined that Hugo had instead rested his hand against her heart. But still, it felt romantic and indulgent and lovely. Well, sort of.

TWENTY-THREE

Twenty-three

f @HugoHearstAuthor: Sipping Aperol Spritz and enjoying my bowl of spaghetti puttanesca. Life. Is. Good.

Rome, Italy