Silver Screens and Broken Dreams (Echoes of Us #2)

12. “What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you.” – Richard Wilbur

Austin

I n the tranquil early hours of a crisp Ambleside morning, I found myself seated in the less-frequented corner of the breakfast room at The Village Inn. The quaint establishment, known for its old-world charm and nestled in the lush greenery of the Lake District, provided a stark contrast to the bustling streets and vibrant nightlife of London, from which I had only recently escaped. The rustic décor, with its wooden beams and the soft glow of oil lamps and a roaring fire, set a comforting, almost nostalgic scene, as if the place had resisted the march of time.

My thoughts were elsewhere, though, entangled in a web of my own recent career choices and personal upheavals. More of a drama of my own making, or Kyle's making, depending on which way you wanted to look at it. After wrapping up what ended up being a very successful urban drama in London, that had earned me more than a few awards for my performance as a conflicted artist struggling with newfound fame – ironic, I know – I found myself drawn to a script of a new project.

A romance film set against the backdrop of Northern England's rugged scenery, about a man who unexpectedly falls for his boss's son due to a series of mishaps that begin at a local café in a nearby city. The writer of the book on which the script was based also lived locally, and the deal for the script purchase was that any future TV or film productions would take place in the local area. The thought was that the writer wanted any production to be authentic, but I had a feeling it was also to boost local tourism.

As I sat, contemplating the role and how I would develop the character from page to screen, my peace was disrupted by the arrival of breakfast. The waiter, a cheerful and very handsome man with an easy smile and eyes that sparkled with mischief approached carrying a tray laden with the hearty offerings of a traditional English breakfast.

"Good morning, sir. I hope this will start your day off right." I read the name Mark on a small nametag pinned to the lapel of his green tartan shirt. "Here you go," Mark said as he set the plate down in front of me. His voice held a lilt that was unmistakeably local, imbued with a warmth often found in those who lived in these parts, with a hint of something else, as if he didn't grow up here.

"Thank you, Mark," I replied, managing a polite smile as I surveyed the array of eggs, sausage, bacon, fried tomatoes, what looked like fried bread and the unmistakable black disc of blood. "You really do just eat dried blood, out in the open for everyone to see, huh?" I grimaced. The aroma was inviting, yet my appetite was minimal. It had been for a while, and I had dropped the weight and lost the muscle definition to prove it. The producers of the movie had kindly reminded me that there was a health clause in my contract that stated I needed to stay in shape for this movie.

"It's a local delicacy." Mark chuckled, gesturing to the plate.

"I'm sure it is," I smiled, "Rocky Mountain Oysters are a delicacy in places back home, but I doubt you would want to partake in those either."

"Oysters are lush," Mark exclaimed, his hand flying to his chest.

"Well that's just the name, it's actually made from bull testicles."

Mark paled and the sides of his mouth turned down. "I've been known to enjoy a testicle or two in my time, but never of the bovine variety."

I barked out a laugh, absentmindedly pushing the black pudding around my plate with the tip of my fork.

Mark, obviously noticing my disinterest in the food, clapped me on the shoulder. "Is there anything else I can get you? Perhaps some tea or a fresh pot of coffee?"

I shook my head, my thoughts drifting. "Just coffee, thank you. I've yet to acquire the taste for tea," I confessed, offering a half-hearted attempt at humour.

With a playful gasp, Mark leaned in closer and whispered, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, sir. Around here, that's almost sacrilegious!" His grin widened, and for a moment, I was distracted from my brooding. I took a moment to take in the man standing in front of me. He was cute as a button, broad-shouldered with a waist that tapered in. His shirt barely concealed some seriously major biceps and his corded trousers were strained against the muscle of his thighs. He wasn't my usual type, but I could spot a hottie when one was standing in front of me offering me a plate full of meat.

Maybe I could have some fun whilst freezing my nuts off on the shores of Lake Windermere. I placed my fork down carefully on the plate in front of me and leaned forward towards Mark, almost conspiratorially. I lowered my voice and gave him my best bedroom eyes when I said, "Maybe you could show me what I'm missing sometime?"

Instead of the emphatic swooning that I was hoping for, Mark regarded me with outright confusion. "I mean sure, I'd be happy to recommend some local favourites. You'd be surprised how many varieties we have. Perhaps I can convert you? Although the tea I offered you is nothing to scoff at," Mark smiled, his demeanour light and friendly.

"Excuse my husband." My head snapped to the side. Another devastatingly handsome man stood off to my left. Imagine if Thor had a baby with Wolverine and you might get an idea of what this Viking looked like. All power and strength behind an apron and floral shirt. "He is a little na?ve about men who hit on him, especially movie stars. You wouldn't be trying to snatch my husband away from me, now would you, Mr. Ridge?" The man's deep chuckle sent shivers up my spine.

"He wasn't…" Mark scoffed, looking quickly between me and the bearded giant. "I don't think… Oh my!" His cheeks bloomed pink as he muttered something unintelligible between oh my 's.

The man laughed, wrapping an arm around Mark and extended his other hand forwards towards me. "I'm Patrick," he smiled warmly, "Mark's husband and the co-owner of the inn here."

"I'm…" I began.

"I know who you are, Mr. Ridge," Patrick smiled, "it's not every day we get a bona fide action star come stay with us."

"I wouldn't know if I would call myself a star." I mean I would, but I wouldn't just go around saying that to people.

"Oh no, you are!" Mark gasped. "We would try and get all the guests to go to bed early every Thursday night for a new episode of your show on FilmFIix."

"Well, I'm very flattered." I played the edge of the napkin in front of me nervously as they looked at me expectantly, like I should be saying something that I wasn't.

"Forgive my husband," Patrick sighed, "but he loves a tabloid and a gossip rag. I'm sure he wants to ask about the affair between the actress and the director."

I looked up to see Mark nodding, a hopeful expression on his face. I chuckled and gestured to the two seats opposite me. Unable to contain his glee, Mark shoved into the seat in the corner, with his husband taking the seat next to him. For the next fifteen minutes, I regaled them with a slightly censored version of the events that would lead to the downfall of the show and my time in Los Angeles.

"That's just awful!" Mark gasped, "and so bloody juicy."

Patrick laughed and playfully punched him on the arm.

"Hey!" Mark yelped, rubbing at his bicep. "It's not like I'm going to be on the phone to the newspapers or anything."

"Everything has already been covered by the gossip columns back home, so I don't think it would be much in the way of news," I shrugged, pushing the black pudding around my plate with my fork.

"I guess I didn't think how much it would affect everyone else who worked on the show," Mark frowned, his eyebrows quirking thoughtfully. "Was it quite tough, it getting axed?"

"Baby…" Patrick rested his forehead against Mark's bicep and chuckled, "some tact?"

"I don't mind," I smiled. "Yes, it was tougher than I thought. But I think it was a good move for me. If that hadn't happened I think I might still be on the show. Since it ended I've had the chance to travel and work in different lovely locations like this one and meet awesome people like you two."

"Oh, he's so adorable!" Mark rapped his knuckles against the table in front of him, his hand twitching as if he physically needed to stop himself from reaching across the table to pinch my cheeks.

The small brown leather satchel on the chair next to me vibrated obnoxiously as a chime sounded, like a flock of angry pigeons trapped within the material. I winced at the sound, knowing that only heartbreak was currently linked to that infernal racket. I'd grown tired of being blindsided by pictures of Dylan or articles on him cropping up here and there and not being prepared. I'd been caught unawares whilst shooting the sci-fi show one afternoon, finding a picture of him strolling arm-in-arm through Central Park with Natalie. I'd been so bowled over with self-loathing and grief that I'd struggled through the rest of the day's shooting schedule. To stop it from happening again, I'd put a Google alert on my tablet to at least give me the heads up that there was a story or picture spread to be seen.

"You expecting some bad news?" Patrick asked, a cautious look on his face.

"No," I smiled. "Nothing like that, just my regular as clockwork knife in the heart."

I pulled the tablet from my satchel and swiped on the New York Times notification across the middle of the screen.

Page Six: Lights, Camera, Scandal! Dylan Cooper and Jax Conway spark rumours at New York Industry event.

By Tabitha Reynolds, Gossip Columnist for the New York Times

New York City was abuzz last night as the stars descended on what was to be a celebration for the upcoming season of Amore Blue , the smash hot police drama starring none other than Jax Conway, movie star and now titan of the small screen. However, none of the stars shone brighter – or ignited more whispers – than upcoming director Dylan Cooper and the ever-charismatic Jax Conway. The pair, who have been collaborating on the much-anticipated next season of Amore Blue , seemed inseparable throughout the evening, leading many to speculate about the nature of their relationship.

Eyewitnesses report that Cooper and Conway were often seen laughing together, with Conway whispering into Cooper's ear on more than one occasion. At one point, an onlooker noted that Cooper placed a hand on Conway's lower back as they navigated through the star-studded event.

"It wasn't just friendly, it was intimate," claimed a source who was an attendee at the event and a self-professed expert on celebrity behaviours. "They were in their own little world."

Adding fuel to the fire, Conway, previously known for his roles as the dashing lead in several blockbuster hits, has recently been the subject of a parting of ways with his current agent. As for what this means for Amore Blue , only time will tell. But one thing is certain, Cooper and Conway are the duo everyone will be watching this season.

Stay tuned to Page Six for more updates as this story develops.

There at the bottom of the article was a picture of Dylan in a black tuxedo. He was so handsome. My heart thumped in my chest as I stared longingly at the smile etched on his face. My eyes tried to block out the source of his apparent happiness.

"That Jax Conway is quite something," Mark almost drooled as he leaned across the table to take a look at the still-visible phone of Dylan and Jax on the tablet, "I mean, I think even straight men would have a go at that."

"Yeah, if you like them big, jacked on steroids and dumb as a box of rocks, then sure," I retorted, unable to mask my bitterness.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say he does like them big and dumb." Patrick preened, bumping his shoulder with Mark. I started to apologize for my misstep, but Patrick waved me off playfully. "You got history with Jax Conway?"

"Now who's the gossip?" Mark laughed, bumping Patrick back.

I pointed to Dylan's in the picture and confessed, "No, but he was… no, is the love of my life."

"Crikey!" Mark exclaimed suddenly, looking at a delicate watch on his wrist, "I need to go run those invoices up to Phillip and Jeremy."

"I'll hold the fort down," Patrick smiled, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

"I want to hear all the gossip," Mark wailed before standing quickly from his seat and scurrying towards the reception. He stopped as if he had forgotten something and rushed back into the room. "Anything you find out, you tell me later or you won't be getting any for a while." Mark turned once more and rushed out of the room.

I looked on as Patrick's eyes tracked after his man out of the room, a warm smile on his face as he watched Mark fussing over an older lady stroking a Pomeranian on her lap. "You're a lucky man," I sighed wistfully.

"I really am." His face radiated happiness. He gathered himself before turning back to face me. "Forgive me for overstepping, but if you're in love with this Dylan, then why is he with someone else?"

"Because, and pardon my French," I shrugged, "I made the biggest fucking mistake of my life and gave up on him. On us."

I filled Patrick in on the CliffsNotes version of how I potentially clawed my way through a loving relationship to land myself the position of a lonely-as-fuck but famous actor. Patrick gave me that look that one might give to an old man propping up a bar lamenting about the one that got away. It wasn't the first time I had felt the cold tendrils of dread skating up my spine and the thought of that very possible future for myself. It wasn't as if I hadn't tried to find that same spark with anyone else; I'd given it the old college try. My heart wasn't playing ball though. It had latched itself on to an image of Dylan and it was not letting go.

As I sat there in the dimly lit room of the quaint inn, my gaze drifted over the antique decorations without really seeing them. I turned to Patrick, who was giving me a look of genuine concern, clearly ready to listen. The weight of my regrets lay heavy on my chest, and it pushed the words out in a mixture of sorrow and bitterness.

"You know," I began, my voice low and heavy, "I made the biggest mistake of my life. I lost the one person in the world who truly mattered to me, but also the one person in the world to whom I truly mattered. He really saw me. He knew me more than anyone else in my life. He saw through all the bullshit. All because I chased fame in an industry that doesn't care about who you are or the heartache that it causes. It's all about how much money you can bring in, and how much you can make. And in the end, it just left me feeling empty." I paused, looking down at my clasped hands.

As he watched the sorrow pour from me, Patrick listened silently, his eyes thoughtful. I felt a warm hand resting on my shoulder, I turned to meet his gaze, his expression understanding. The warm glow of the inn's fireplace flickered across his face, casting gentle shadows that seemed to soften his thoughtful expression.

"Look Austin," Patrick began gently, his voice firm but kind, "I don't know the entire story, and it's not my place to interfere, but I believe you should never give up on love. if there's any chance of winning Dylan back, then you shouldn't let go without a fight." His gaze momentarily drifted toward the entrance of the inn where his husband stood.

There, by the door, Mark was still fussing over the elderly lady and her dog, helping her to adjust the dog's little sweater and laughing as the lady chatted animatedly. The sight filled Patrick with such visible warmth; his face lit up with the adoration of the man he loved.

Unable to resist the affection obviously swelling within him, Patrick excused himself from our conversation with a smile. "Just give me a moment, Austin," he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and love. He walked over to Mark, and without a word, leaned in and gave him a tender, loving kiss, his actions speaking volumes about their depth of connection. Watching them, I felt a surge of hope and a reminder of what genuine affection looked like, wondering if maybe, just maybe, I could find that again myself.