Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

recognizable celebrities. Henry kissed Harriet’s hand, lingering his lips there a little longer than appropriate. She ate up the attention, allowing him to escort her into the theatre lobby.

Emma slipped a hand under my arm and the other one around Frank’s. She was going for that Madonna Material Girl vibe. The press went wild over it.

“Shall we?” she chirped.

Did I have a choice? Frank didn’t seem to mind. Publicity for Field of Hearts, I reminded myself. This is good.

Except I didn’t feel good. I felt the opposite of good.

25

Goodbye, Hello

Emma

I would have infinitely preferred to attend the Oscars with Jax. Frank spent half the time hamming it up for the cameras and the other half checking his notifications. Plus, I couldn’t make my usual comments and predictions about the nominees in the playful game Jax and I invented. His theory was that the most likely winners were given seats closer to the aisles. Then we’d make bets on how many seconds their speech would be. He’d time it on his stopwatch app. If a winner got ‘played off’ by the orchestra, it was extra points to whomever made the prediction. We also liked to laugh about some of the outrageous gowns attendees would wear. I’d never forget the year Erika Silver’s neckline dipped all the way down to her navel, and Jax dared me to throw quarters down her dress like a carnival game. I succeeded at the Governor’s Ball after-party by substituting cocktail olives instead of quarters. He brought me a goldfish the next day. I named her Olive, deciding it was a female fish. How can one even tell those things?

Tonight, Lana D’vario had on so many feathers, I wouldn’t be surprised if she took flight right in the middle of the Best Supporting Actress presentation. Since Jax was quite a few rows behind me, I leaned in and whispered to Frank, “How much air do you think she’ll get? Twenty quid says she’ll graze Warren Beatty’s head.”

Frank stared at me blankly and gave me a placating smile. I spent the rest of the night itching to see if Jaxson noticed the same things I did. I glanced over my shoulder as often as I could without scaring the lady behind me (some accountant’s wife—they always had good seats), but Jax had his attention elsewhere. One time, Harriet was whispering to him and another time he was in the loo or something because a seat filler had taken his place. I did find Annie and Randall, though. They were seated far back, but I caught up with her on a commercial break. She made me promise to go to the Governor’s Ball after the show. So much for hamburgers with Jax. It was especially important for her to go because Randall won in his category. It was for a film he worked on before Jaxson’s steampunk picture, but with Field of Hearts on the horizon, I had a feeling Randall would be making another acceptance speech in a couple of years.

Most of my predictions for the evening were spot on. The Oscar favourite won Best Picture, Frances McDonald won Best Actress, but the Best Supporting Actor award went to a virtually unknown Guatemalan actor for his gripping performance in the Frerrars Brothers breakout film.

Later at the Governor’s Ball, Jaxson reminded me where I’d heard that name before.

“The Frerrars Brothers are those independent filmmakers Beth Bennet is working with,” he explained. “They have virtually no budget, do mostly ‘found footage’ films that go straight to streaming, and had no idea their last picture would be so well received. They took the Oscars by storm. It’s incredible.”

Come to think of it, I did remember hearing about those guys. “They should have won Best Picture.”

Jax responded with a wry smile. “That’s Hollywood for ya.”

“Maybe next year.”

Jaxson nodded wearily. He didn’t look so good. He was rather pale and had intense dark circles under his eyes, probably from burning the midnight oil.

“Are you okay? You look like Voldemort’s disinterested twin.”

“I’m just tired. Meetings, final edits for last year’s film, the karaoke club…”

“Why don’t you go home, then?”

He shook his head vehemently. “I promised Harriet she’d have the time of her life. Look at her chatting it up with J Law.”

“You’re not showing anybody a good time looking like that. Seriously, the only reason you’re able to stand upright is because that tux is so old, it has a life of its own. Harriet can catch a ride with me. Get outta here.”

Jaxson gazed at me, too exhausted to blink. “You are on fire with those compliments tonight.”

I shrugged casually. “I’m saucier after midnight.”

The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “All right. I’ll go tell Harriet. Say my goodbyes to Randall and Annie.” He squeezed my hand and placed a safe kiss on my cheek. Despite his sallow appearance his lips were warm and sweet, and the scruff of his whiskers tickled my skin. I almost offered to go with him. But he needed rest. I made him promise to text me to let me know he made it home okay, unceremoniously shoving him in the direction of the exit. It didn’t take long after I watched him disappear through the crowd for Henry Crawford to find me.

“You look like you need some company,” Henry drawled, smelling of gin. I squeezed my eyes shut and made a silent wish.

I wish the Goblin King would take you away right now.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone, flirting with a pretty blonde.

Wow, that really worked. Sort of. I mean, she was no David Bowie…

For the rest of the night, I watched Harriet flitter from one group of A-listers to another. I could hardly believe how well she came out of her shell. Who was this girl and what did she do with my shy, timid Harriet?

Into the wee hours of the morning, I danced, ate too much caviar, and took a bucket load of selfies with Frank, Randall, Annie,