Page 27

“What play are you seeing tonight, Freddie?” Envy lingered in Alex’s question. She desperately wanted to devour as many productions as possible, not only for pleasure but also for any lessons they might hold for her. Watching professionals in action—the best way to learn.

Freddie rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket. “I wish we had extra tickets so you two could come along. It was at the Fringe Festival in Edinburgh last year. Some two-hander starring Mark’s friend and some old guy, I’m not sure of the title. Mark’s bringing the tickets. At least I hope he is. He’d forget his head sometimes if it wasn’t attached.”

He put on a pair of black-framed eyeglasses and checked his phone. “Speaking of Mark, I hope he arrives soon. I haven’t heard from him all day. He’s rubbish at keeping in touch.”

“You wear glasses? They suit you,” said Alex.

“Cheers. Yeah, I don’t wear them all the time. I’m a bit farsighted…unlike some people I won’t mention who aren’t visually compromised and only wear glasses to make themselves look more intelligent at work.”

Lucy smirked and gave him a cool dose of side-eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But anyway…we’ll see something together,” said Freddie. “Isabella Archer’s new play opens this autumn at the Almeida. It’s supposed to be really innovative and weird from what Mark’s told me.”

Alex sputtered on her drink, unsure if she heard him correctly. “Isabella Archer? THE Isabella Archer? The one who won her third Olivier Award last month?”

“That’s the one.”

She smacked the table. The shock rippled through the drinks causing them to shimmy on the spot. “Oh my God. She’s my favourite writer, Freddie. I own all her plays. She’s been the darling of London’s theatre scene for, what, the past ten years? I mean, who wins an Olivier with their first play at twenty-three?”

She stopped to catch her breath. “Go see her play? I’d die. I would. I hope you’re not pulling my leg—”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t. Look, if you don’t believe me, ask Mark…”

Freddie stood up to hug a guy with jet-black hair who had wandered up to the edge of their table. Alex did a double take. It was the handsome Irish stranger from the Royal Court lobby. Freddie delivered a roguish smooch to Mark’s forehead. The guys laughed, but she couldn’t make out what the two friends said to one another. Raised voices and the venue’s blaring music made for a deafening mix.

He was a few inches shorter than Freddie and a few pounds heavier, but then everyone weighed more than Freddie. The scruff of whiskers above his lip and along his jaw line matched his friend. He playfully slicked his hair back away from his forehead and leaned across the table to embrace Lucy, giving her a peck on each cheek.

Sitting down across from Alex, he looked at her with his soulful brown eyes. They lingered a little too long as if they were memorizing every freckle. He shrugged off his beat-up leather jacket to expose a loosely knotted purple tie and a fitted, white dress shirt that hugged his chest when he moved. He leaned over the table full of drinks and plates, extending his hand to her. His handshake was warm and firm. She hoped he couldn’t detect her racing pulse.

“Hello, I’m Mark Keegan. You must be Alex.”

Laugh lines gathered around his eyes, and his smile was easy and genuine, just as she remembered from the theatre.

“Have we met before? You look familiar.”

Alex’s stomach did a back flip. “Were you at the Royal Court box office last weekend?”

He blinked rapidly and then his eyes widened in recognition. “That’s it. Wow, small world.”

Lucy laughed. “What a crazy coincidence.”

Mark’s kind welcome and charming Dublin accent captivated Alex, but before she could say much more to the soft-spoken Irishman, Freddie broke the spell.

“And here I thought I was introducing two strangers. Fancy a pint, Mark?”

“Hell yeah. My shout. Same again, ladies?” Mark leapt off his chair and disappeared into the swarm of Saturday night revelers.

“Mark’s an actor,” Freddie blurted out to Alex as soon as his friend was out of earshot. “You two should have plenty to chat about. He’s done everything: radio dramas, voiceovers, theatre. I met him in the Beeb’s canteen two years back. He was taking a break from a radio play, and he scooped the last cheese and onion pasty. I could’ve throttled him, but he was too bloody adorable. And did you check out that arse? He looks so fit in those black trousers.”

Alex smirked, unsure of Freddie’s relationship with Mark. Was he Freddie’s partner? No mention had been made about a current boyfriend, so she didn’t know what to assume. She wasn’t great at reading new people.

When Mark returned with a tray of drinks, Freddie commandeered the conversation. Alex noticed that Mark didn’t mind. He seemed perfectly at ease letting Freddie take the lead. He interjected his thoughts a few times, but he wasn’t boisterous or an attention-hog like some actors tend to be. And when he laughed, his entire body became committed to the cause. He threw his head back with abandon and chuckled explosively, a contagious giggle that enticed everyone to join in the hilarity.

Alex yearned to share a few words with him. Why did she feel so needy for someone she’d just met? Sure, he was attractive, but lots of people ticked that box. But she didn’t hang on their every word as she did with him. She studied every smile, nod, and laugh. His presence, intoxicating. If only Freddie would take a breath or a bite of his burger and give her a chance…

“Alex, are you enjoying London so far?” Mark grabbed a moment to jump in while Freddie chewed a large mouthful.

“I love it.” She sat up straight. “I can’t believe I’m actually here. It doesn’t seem real.”