Him

Hello dear readers! Just a few warnings before you carry on:

this story involves cheating. I do not condone cheating onanylevel, so please remember that this is just a work of fiction.This is a long one - when I say 'recent daydream' this has actually been a recurring plot for weeks now - I spend full days fantasising about this scenario and adding to it. And as a result of that...There's a long wait for the spicy stuff. This is a tale of yearning and, crucially, wanting what you can't have. If you like slow burn then you're in the right place!

Happy reading!

Part One

It started with a chance encounter.

On a delightfully, though surprisingly, warm mid-October morning I'd just met with my friend Isla for our usual Sunday morning walk and coffee. I was on my way back to my flat in Bruntsfield when I came across a crowd at the edge of the Links.

Curious, and frankly with nothing better to do, I wandered over to have a look.

The park was closed off, with barriers and staff in high-vis vests dotted around.

"Do you think they'll come over and say hello?" One woman said to another.

"I doubt it - you know what actors are like." The other woman replied.

"Really? He always seems so nice on television. Just the other day he did an interview onThis Morning."

"Yes, but it's all forshow," the woman stressed. "The more people that like him, the more will watch his films."

Finding a gap in the crowd - which was very easy since it was early in the morning and there was nothing to actually see - I caught the attention of one of the attendants. "Sorry - what's going on?"

"They're filming an episode ofAt Night," the young guy smiled. He seemed quite excited. "They'll be here all day. If you hang around, you might catch a glimpse of one of them, but I'm not sure." He gestured at a group of tents surrounded by a temporary fence. "I think they're getting ready in there."

"Thank you," I smiled back at him.

Immediately I got out my phone and clicked on my dad's contact. I couldn't believe this.

The phone rung several times before he picked up. "Maddy, how are you, love?"

"I'm a bit upset, actually, Dad," I said into the phone, my eye on the tents.

"What's the matter?" His voice became serious. Perhaps I shouldn't have pulled his leg.

"I've just found out my father is working in Edinburgh for at least the day and didn't even call me to come and say hi."

"Bloody hell, Maddy, I thought something was actually up," he laughed. "We're filming on the Links. Where are you?"

"I'm here already - the west side on Whitehouse Loan," I told him.

"I'll be two minutes," he replied and hung up the phone.

Immediately I could see him exiting the tents the attendant had pointed out. He spotted me, too, and waved.

My dad had been a director since long before I was born. He had become quite big and would take me and my mum on trips abroad to watch him film. As I got older he scaled it back so he could be around a bit more. He stuck to UK-based productions most of the time. It wasn't until five years ago, when I'd moved out and was properly settled in my flat and my job, that they moved down to London to focus back on doing what they loved.

"Is that David Allan?" I heard someone say near me, making me smile.

There were a few murmurs of 'who?' as my dad approached because, honestly, how many people can recognise directors unless they're Hollywood big-shots?

"Maddy!" Dad beamed at me as he pulled one of the barriers back and came out to hug me. "How are you doing?"

I savoured the hug. It'd been a few months since I'd last seen him but it felt like an age. The thing about growing up as an only child, for me at least, was that it had felt like my mum, dad, and I were a unit. There was no distinct 'they're the parents and you're the kids' - it was justus. I hated how far away they lived now.

"I'm good," I said as he pulled away.

"I'm sorry I haven't called yet - it's been mayhem. It was on the to-do list. If you're not busy you can hang around for a bit?" He asked. That was his way of saying 'please stay'.

"Of course," I followed him past the barrier. "I don't have anything planned today."

"Great," we began to walk back to the tents. "If we wrap up here early enough we could go for dinner?"

"That'd be nice," I agreed.

We didn't go into the tents, instead weaving between them towards the set as he filled me in on how my mum was doing.

I looked around to take it all in but there was very little 'set' to speak of. My dad explained that it was a scene in which two characters were walking and talking but then there was a chase through the park, hence why the whole area was shut off.

"Have you seen the program before?" He asked as we neared the screens. Though I had been on many sets, I'd never taken much of an interest in them. My mum's job as a book editor had always appealed to me more. Even now, I had little idea of the technical names for the set. As far as I cared or knew, there were cameras, screens, chairs, and the bit where the actors were. I don't think my dad ever got over me going into publishing, rather than entertainment.

"No," I shook my head. I only knew of the show due to my dad being involved.

"We're on the third series," he told me, "so there's a lot of background. All you need to know is that the main character - that's Matthew - is visiting Edinburgh following a lead in a case that he's trying to solve. This is just the first episode, we're in Scotland for almost this whole series. Oh - here's Matthew now. Matt!" Dad called, as an actor came out of one of the tents.

I looked up and saw Matthew Wood heading towards us.

I knewofMatthew Wood. He'd been in a few TV shows and movies I'd seen but I wouldn't have necessarily called myself a fan. He was one of those actors whom I'd taken little notice of.

Still, my stomach did a bit of a dip. I mean, the guy was really handsome - that much was obvious - even without the lighting and makeup of television. He had dark hair and a beard, both a little too long, though I assumed that was for his role. It suited him. He must have been in his mid-forties and, though I couldn't pin-point an age, he'd developed those delicious signs of maturity that I went crazy for. Subtle lines on his forehead and between his brows; a smattering of grey hair in his beard and at his temples. I could imagine my fingertips brushing through it on a lazy Sunday morning...

However, his attractiveness didn't just come from his looks. It was his presence. He walked towards us with such confidence. He stood over six feet tall, as well, which I supposed helped.

"Matt, this is my daughter, Madalyn," my dad introduced us.

Matthew smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Madalyn, it's a pleasure to meet you," he greeted me. His voice was deep but smoothed by his English accent. He sounded posh. I had a terrible affliction for posh boys.

"Please, call me Maddy," I shook the hand he extended. He had big hands and a firm grip.

Was that butterflies I could feel? Surely not. I was nearly thirty, for Christ's sake. Big hands and a deep voice shouldn't have been enough to excite me.

"Maddy will be here today to watch," dad told Matthew before turning to look over something. A script? I couldn't tell.

"Excellent," Matthew nodded at me. "You can give me notes on my scene."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," I laughed lightly. "I'm a terrible actor and a far worse director. I'd probably do more harm than good."

"Nonsense. It's not about knowing how to act - it's about how you personally react to the character," he told me. "For example, my character is arrogant, rude, and condescending. If you still like me after the scene then I'll know that I need to fix something."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean if I still like yourcharacter?"

"Sure," he smirked, beginning to walk away, in front of the cameras. "I expect detailed notes so I know your eyes were on me the whole time."

My cheeks heated up a little as he turned. Was that flirting?

Surely not. My hair was scraped back into a ponytail and I wasn't wearing make-up. I looked far too normal for someone like him to take notice of. Then again, my dad was his boss for this project, so maybe he was trying to butter him up by making me like him.

I honestly couldn't tell. My friends always told me how hopeless I was at detecting these things. It's why I hadn't had a boyfriend (or anything even close) in the past two years.

"Remember to steer clear of the cameras, darling," my dad reminded me.

I stepped back and watched him begin working.

I observed take after take of Matthew and his co-star walking and talking. Then they'd change the camera angle and do it again. Then the sun would come out and they'd have to wait for the clouds to come back before they did it again. Then a dog would start barking so they'd have to do it again.

Everyone here had the patience of saints because after just an hour I was bored out of my mind.

Don't get me wrong, watching Matthew was quite thrilling. It was like he wiped his face of all traces of who he was and put on a whole new one. His mannerisms and voice all changed - even the way he held himself as he walked was different. It all told a story.

But even he couldn't keep my attention. It was the same few lines being said. It was monotonous hell.

I was ready to tell my dad that I was going to head home when he was called over to one of the camera guys about something not looking right.

Matthew took the lull in production as an opportunity to approach me again. "So, what's the verdict?"

"You were good," I told him honestly, suppressing the desire to smile up at him like some silly little fan girl. And it really would be smilingupat him - he towered over me.

"Oh no," he grimaced.

"What?"

"I must have been terrible if that's all you can say."

I smirked, eyebrows lifted. "Are you fishing for compliments?"

"Dear me, yes I must be," he leaned a little closer to me. "I'm an award-winning actor, yet a pretty word from you would mean more than any other form of recognition."

I rolled my eyes and groaned, though I was still smiling. It seemed I couldn't stop. "Lord, you actors are so melodramatic."

Matthew clutched his chest as though I'd shot him through the heart. "You wound me, Maddy."

He took a staggered step as though he was about to fall over from the hurt, landing on me. I squealed, pushing to keep him upright. "Ok, ok!" I shouted, getting him off me. He stood easily with a small, teasing smile on his lips. "You were wonderful! You deserve an Oscar for that scene alone."

He settled himself beside me, watching my dad wrestle with a camera before someone qualified came to help him. "Go on," Matthew's elbow nudged me, his tone sobered. "What did you actually think?"

I shrugged helplessly. "Honestly, I have no idea, Matthew. It was such a small snippet of conversation and I became a bit desensitised after the fourth take."

"Fair enough," he nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. "In that case, you can watch the first two series and forward me your notes on them."

"Ah, yes, that's how I'll spend my next few evenings - bigging up your ego."

Matthew pretended to look affronted. "Bold of you to assume my ego can get any bigger."

"Ah, so what you're saying is I'm morally obligated to point out your flaws - just to help balance you out?"

"Definitelydon't do that," he grinned. "I like cruel women far too much."

"You've left me in a difficult spot, then. I can't be nice and can't be mean."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," he winked at me.

I caught his gaze and struggled to look away. It's surprisingly intense making quiet eye contact with another person, especially one you don't know all that well. After a moment, I had to look away and dip my chin behind the zip of my jacket. My hands were nearly shaking. What an odd experience.

"Are you bored watching, yet?" He asked.

"Actually, I was just about to leave," I admitted, scrunching up my nose. I didn't want to be rude but it really was dull.

"That's a shame - I was hoping to get to know you a bit better. David's always talking about his publishing-whiz daughter," one side of Matthew's mouth ticked up in a half-smile. There was something in his smile - I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was like a challenge. "I'm intrigued."

"Hm," I hummed, noticing my dad was walking back towards us. "Then here's the man to ask - I'm his favourite subject to talk about." I caught my dad's attention. "I was just telling Matthew that I'm going to head home."

"Alright, darling," dad hugged me.

"Give me a ring if you have time for dinner, ok?"

"Of course," he assured me, though he was clearly distracted. I wouldn't have been surprised if I didn't hear from him again for a week.

"It was lovely to meet you, Matthew," I dipped my chin as I walked past him, heading back the way I had come in.

"Until next time, Maddy," He grinned and watched me as I left.

***

In the late afternoon my dad finally messaged me.

DAD: Dinner at 6? Some cast/crew coming too

ME: Sounds good! Where?

DAD: Evoo - the Mediterranean place near the old house

ME: Perfect, see you then.

I took time getting ready. I showered and blow-dried my long, dark hair. I took time to do my make-up, attempting to look subtly glamorous. I plucked and shaved and micro-bladed every inch of my skin.Notbecause of a certain actor, but because it's always good to practice self-care.

I picked out a high-necked black jumper, a short, burgundy skirt, some tights, and knee-high boots. Checking myself in the mirror before I left, I looked decidedly parent-friendly, but still really good. I was happy. And if Matthew happened to notice-

I stopped the thought. Jesus, I'd spoken to the man for all of five minutes earlier. I had to get a grip.

But he was hot, I conceded as I donned my leather jacket. More than hot. He was older, confident, flirtatious,sohandsome. With big hands. And I'd bet he had an even bigger-

My phone buzzed as my Uber arrived. Probably for the best.

I arrived in Stockbridge just after six. The restaurant was an old favourite of my parents. It was intimate, lit by lots of little fairy lights and candles, but convivial with big tables to seat large parties.

I spotted my dad quickly, sitting at a round table towards the back. He'd saved me a seat next to him.

I tried not to let my disappointment show at the fact that Matthew was nowhere to be seen.

"Darling," my dad stood and hugged me before pulling my chair out for me. Little details like that were why I had such high expectations for men. My dad had spoiled me growing up.

He made introductions around the table. Some people were vaguely familiar - a few actors who I thought I recognised from other shows - but it was an intimate gathering. There were only nine of us in total.

I was just looking at the menu when someone called out. "Better late than never!"

Looking up, my stomach did the same dipping thing it had done earlier, but a bitmore. Because now Matthew wasn't just a handsome older man. He was a handsome older man in his own clothes (which suited him much better), in an intimate restaurant, and we'd been flirting earlier. The stakes were higher and so was my heart-rate.

At this rate I felt like I was going to suffer cardiac arrest if we ran into each other again.

I watched him remove his jacket and put it on the back of a chair. To my disappointment, someone had saved him a seat at the other side of the table from me, effectively ending any plans for further flirting with him. All the same, his eyes caught mine and his lips ticked up at the corners. If that was all I could get from him tonight, I was sure I'd leave happy anyway.

A waiter stopped by to take a drink order. My dad ordered wine for the table and a few people got other drinks as well. I was happy with just the wine and some water.

"Are you having the usual, darling?" Dad asked me.

"Yes, thank you," I told him, passing my menu over as he ordered for me. We'd been here many times and there was really no dish better than their linguine con salsiccia - a pasta dish with Italian sausage, onion, bacon, and garlic and tomato sauce. I would bury that all under a mound of parmesan as well, of course.

Once the orders had been taken and we had our drinks served the conversations continued uninterrupted. Almost immediately someone brought up the dreaded topic. "I'm surprised you didn't follow your dad into entertainment, Madalyn."

I took a sip of my wine. "Yes, though if we talk about it too much my dad might just start crying, so..." The line got a few laughs, as it always did. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to deter them.

"What is it you do, then?" Linda - at least, Ithoughther name was Linda - asked. I was sure I saw her working with the camera earlier.

"I'm in publishing," I replied, my eyes wary.Take the hint, I wanted to say.Leave it there.

I loved my job, and I was proud of everything I'd achieved in it. But I didn't like talking about it in front of my dad because it was a genuine sore spot for him.

"You'll need to enlighten me," Linda continued, undeterred. "I'm under the impression that working in publishing means you read books and pass them along if you think they're any good."

The table was now quiet as everyone joined this conversation. My dad took out his phone and was not-so-subtly diverting his attention. I tried not to feel hurt.

"That's the gist of it, yes," I nodded. I could feel my cheeks heating up. "I'm a senior commissioning editor, so I'm finding new works, developing them, and working with agents or authors up until the work is published."

"Senior commissioning editor?" A man in his fifties echoed. I didn't recognise him at all and my dad's introduction from earlier escaped me. "Aren't you a bit young for such a big job title? I mean you're, what, twenty-seven?"

Apprehension prickled up my spine. His tone was so condescending, and I could tell he was skirting around the word 'nepotism'. Not that anyone here would have the balls to say it in front of my dad, but the intent was very clear. I could understand genuine confusion, to be fair. My mum did help to get me an interview for my first job in the small Edinburgh office of a larger publishing house. Otherwise getting into editorial work was absolute murder. Using connections in the industry was expected and, besides, denying myself a leg-up would have been stupid.

I smiled at him but I was clearly unamused. "I'm twenty-nine. I graduated uni with excellent results and I got an entry-level position straight from there. Luckily, I landed an editorial assistant job, which I worked in for four years before I was promoted. And that's not considering the summers I spent getting work experience while I was still a student, so..."

"Mm," the guy sat back as his meal was put before him. "Summer experience? I take it you interned with your mum, or...?"

"Daniel, tell me does your dad still work in the BBC or has he retired yet?" Matthew asked. It seemed so off-hand as he leaned back to allow the waiter to put his plate down. He thanked the waiter with a smile.

"Retired," Daniel, the man who had been needling me, stated before busying himself with his food. He didn't say anything else.

I flicked my eyes to Matthew but he wasn't looking at me. I couldn't be sure if that comment had been for my benefit, or just a general addition to the conversation. I chose to believe, perhaps naively, that it was for me.

Everyone began eating and conversations became stilted. Some people were chatting among themselves and I joined in where appropriate. Mostly I just enjoyed the atmosphere and did my best not to stare at Matthew.