Chapter 1
Beatrix
I’d been awake for hours, sitting in the window seat with two scripts in my lap, watching Austin sleep.
He looked peaceful, one arm thrown above his head, dark hair messy against the pillow. In the one and a half years since I’d moved to Vermont from my carefully constructed London life, I have enjoyed these quiet moments. The way his face softened in sleep, the occasional mumble about music or recipes.
My phone buzzed again—the fifth time in an hour. Sarah, my agent, was desperate for an answer. I let it go to voicemail, like the others.
“Come back to bed. It’s too early,” Austin murmured.
“Go back to sleep, love,” I whispered, but he was already stretching, the sheets sliding down to reveal his chest.
“Can’t. I can feel somebody’s anxiety from across the room.” He sat up, looking at me with those eyes that still made my heart stutter. “What’s got you up at dawn? Besides your usual terrible sleep schedule?”
I held up the scripts. “Two pilots. One’s a BBC period drama about…”
“Let me guess. A strong-willed woman defying social conventions?”
“I do not always play strong-willed women defying social conventions,” I corrected him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. But this one’s different. She’s a spy.”
“Who defies social conventions?”
I threw a pillow at him, which he caught, grinning. This was our everyday: playful banter, easy intimacy, the comfort of knowing exactly how to make each other happy.
“What’s the other one?” he asked, sitting up fully now.
My hand tightened on the second script. “It’s... bigger.”
Something in my tone made his smile fade slightly. He patted the bed beside him, and I sat down next to him, drawn to him like always.
“How big?” he asked as I settled against him.
“Scorsese.”
His arm tightened around me. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Beatrix, that’s... that’s huge.”
I nodded. “It’s an adaptation of ‘The Garden of the Winter Estate.’ I’d play Claire, the lead.”
“The book you couldn’t stop talking about last month? The one about the artist and the…”
“Gallery owner, yes.” I looked at him. “You remembered?”
“Yes, I remember. You were very excited about that story. When do they need an answer?”
My phone buzzed again. It was Sarah of course.
“Yesterday it seems. My agent hasn’t stopped calling me about an answer.”
“And? You’re not sure?”
I pressed closer to him. “There’s a catch.”
“Isn’t there always?”
Before I could respond, footsteps thundered past our door, followed by Lisa’s voice: “Asha Grace! Get back here with that spatula!”
A toddler’s giggle echoed through the inn, followed by the sound of tiny feet on hardwood.
Austin chuckled. “Guess the inn’s awake.”
“Guess so.” I started to pull away, but he caught my hand.
“Hey.” His voice was soft. “Whatever you decide, we’ll find a way to make it work. Okay?”
I managed a smile, guilt twisting in my stomach. Because he didn’t know yet. Didn’t know that the catch had dark eyes and an aristocratic accent and had once broken my heart.
“Okay.” I echoed, but the word felt hollow.
More footsteps, then Aunt Mildred’s voice: “Austin? The coffee maker’s doing that thing again!”
He groaned. “Duty calls.”
I watched him dress quickly. He paused at the door, with that crooked smile that always reminded me I made the right choice.
“You coming down?”
“In a minute.”
After he left, I sat there in our bed, holding the Scorsese script tight. My phone buzzed one more time. Sarah, again.
This time, I answered.
“Beatrix,” she said right away, “we need an answer. Eugenio’s already signed, and they won’t hold your place much longer.”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll call you back.” I told her, and hung up.
In the year and a half since I moved here, I’d built a happy life, with morning kisses and shared jokes and a man who remembered all my likes and dislikes. Now I had to decide if I was willing to risk it all for the role of a lifetime.
And somehow, I had to find the words to tell Austin that this opportunity meant working with a man I should not trust, not even in a professional setting.
The inn’s library had become my sanctuary. I curled into my usual armchair, the one Austin had given me for my birthday last year.
The Scorsese script lay in my lap. I’d already read it through three times, but I opened it again, letting the words wash over me:
CLAIRE WINTERS (25) stands before an empty canvas, paint-splattered and fierce. This is a woman who creates beauty from chaos, who sees the world in colors others can’t imagine.
My heart raced. The role was perfect: complex, challenging, the kind of character actresses dream about. Claire was an artist fighting for recognition in a male-dominated world, refusing to compromise her vision.
My phone lit up with an email. The updated cast list. My eyes caught on his name immediately:
BENJAMIN BLACKWOOD - EUGENIO REEVES
The air left my lungs. I’d known, of course. But seeing it in print shook me.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
I jumped. Harold stood in the doorway, looking dapper as ever in his Hawaiian shirt (a habit he’d refused to break since Puerto Rico).
“Just going over some work,” I said, trying to sound normal.
He settled into the chair across from me, giving me that knowing look that reminded me he’d seen more life than most. “Must be quite the role to have you hiding in here instead of helping with breakfast.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to those who know you.” He leaned forward. “Want to talk about it?”
I did, but first, I needed to tell Austin. He should be the first to hear it.
My phone rang again. Sarah.
“You should get that,” Harold said gently. “Just remember, sometimes the biggest opportunities can be our greatest fears.”
He left me there, wondering how the perfect role had come with the most imperfect complication.
The breakfast rush was in full swing when I finally made it. Austin, like always, chatted with guests while keeping coffee cups full. Two and a half years of running the inn had given him a lot of practice.
“Asha Grace!” Lisa’s voice carried over the general din. “Do not put syrup in Mrs. Peterson’s purse!”
I caught the toddler mid-mischief, swinging her up into my arms. She giggled, sticky hands immediately going for my hair.
“Saved by the actress,” Lisa said, rushing over. She looked put-together despite the chaos of running after a toddler all day long. “I swear she’s faster every day.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” I teased.
“Bea!” Asha declared, one of the few words she’d mastered. She pointed toward the kitchen. “Aus!”
“Yes, Uncle Austin went to make muffins,” I confirmed, trying to ignore the pang in my chest. The toddler had wrapped the entire inn around her finger, especially Austin. The way he was with her sometimes made me imagine...
But those thoughts had to wait. Now, I had to figure out how to tell him about Eugenio.
“You okay?” Lisa asked, taking Asha back. “You look...”
“Fine,” I said quickly. “Just tired.”
“You sure?” She didn’t look convinced. “Well, if you want to talk to someone about whatever’s not bothering you, just let me know.”
I watched them go. Lisa had found her place here, transforming from scared pregnant stranger to confident single mom. The town had embraced her, just as they had me.
“You’re brooding,” Aunt Mildred appeared at my elbow, making me jump. “And you’ve got that same look you had when you were planning to run away two years ago.”
“I’m not running.”
“Good.” She pressed a coffee mug into my hands. “Because that boy in there? He wouldn’t survive losing you again.”
The guilt intensified. “I’m not leaving him.”
“But?”
“But...” I took a shaky breath. “Things might get complicated.”
She patted my arm. “Honey, that’s called life. It’s how you handle the complications that matter.”
I waited until after the breakfast rush, when the inn had quieted and most guests had retired to their rooms. I found Austin in one of our favorite spots: the window seat in the library.
“Hey,” I said softly when I saw him.
He looked up from his guitar, smiling that smile that still made my knees weak. “Hey. Finally ready to tell me what’s been eating at you since this morning?”
I sat beside him. “The Scorsese job...”
“Yes?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “It’s amazing, Austin. The script is everything I’ve ever wanted in a role. The director’s a legend, the production’s huge...”
“But?”
“But...” My voice caught. “Eugenio’s already signed on as the male lead.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Austin’s fingers stopped on the guitar strings.
“Your ex,” he said flatly. “The one who...”
“Yes.”
He set the guitar aside. “How long have you known?”
“Sarah told me yesterday. I got the official cast list this morning.”
“And you’re considering it?”
“Austin...”
“Are you?” His voice was tight. “Considering working with the man who cheated on you? Who drove you to run away to Vermont?”
“The man who inadvertently led me to you,” I corrected gently.
He stood abruptly, pacing the room. “That’s not funny, Beatrix.”
“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to explain that this is a professional decision. He’s just another actor.”
“Just another actor?” He laughed harshly. “Like he was just another actor when you found him in bed with your best friend?”
The words hit like a slap. “First of all, it wasn’t in bed, it was my kitchen counter. Second of all, that’s not fair.”
“No? Then tell me what is fair. Tell me how I’m supposed to feel about you spending months with someone who hurt you so badly you fled the country.”
“He doesn’t affect me like that anymore,” I said, standing too. “I’m stronger now. Surer of what I want.”
“And what do you want?”
“I want this role, this opportunity to prove myself in American cinema. And I want you, us, the life we’re building. Why can’t I have both?”
Austin stared at me, silent, hurt and anger in his eyes.
“Because,” he said finally, “the last time you saw him, you disappeared for a year.”
“Austin, I had to go back to work. I had obligations, commitments that I couldn’t just abandon. We talked about this before.”
He shook his head. “All I know is the day he showed up here, you left. Without a word, not even a good bye. I don’t want to go through that again.”
“Austin, I’d never do that to you. You should know that by now. Haven’t I done enough to prove that to you, to gain back your trust?”
He didn’t answer at first. Then he said, “I’m trying. But I just don’t know if I’m ready. I’m not sure I can take a chance like that.”
“Austin, I’m not that person I was. I can handle being around him.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you are going to say yes?”
“It’s Scorsese,” I whispered.
“It’s Eugenio.”
“It’s my career!”
“It’s our life!” His voice cracked. “The life we’re still trying to build, together. The one you chose when you came back.”
“It’s not that I’m unchoosing you,” I moved toward him, but he stepped back.
“Maybe not intentionally.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looked at me, and the pain in his eyes took my breath away. “It means you’re considering putting yourself right back in his orbit. How do you think that will make me feel?”
“It’s to do a job together. As a professional.”
“As someone he might try to hurt again. Don’t you think it’s odd that he’s already signed for the male lead, knowing you’d be the top choice for the female lead? Did you ask why he was chosen for this part?”
“So you don’t trust me,” I realized. “I don’t care about his motivations, Austin. I care that you trust me.”
“I’m trying.” He stepped closer, cupping my face. “It’s him I don’t trust. Him and the power he once had over you.”
I pulled away, anger rising. “I’m not weak anymore.”
“This isn’t about weakness!”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about watching the woman I love walk willingly into a situation that could break her again!”
We stared at each other. My heart was beating fast.
“I have to at least consider it,” I said finally. “This could be my only shot at breaking into American film.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet now, defeated. “I’m just worried about you, having to be around him again. Just... promise me one thing? Promise you won’t run away again. Whatever you decide, whatever happens... talk to me. Even if it’s hard, and you know it’s going to hurt me. I want to know.”
“I’ll never do that to you. I love you.” I whispered.
My phone buzzed. Sarah again.
“I’ll let you get that.” He said as he grabbed his guitar to leave. As I watched him go, I realized how much I hurt him after I left. He was still not over it, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to fix it.
“They need an answer by Monday,” Sarah said when I answered. “Filming starts in six weeks."
Six weeks away. I would have to leave in six weeks.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” I said, and hung up.
Through the window, I could see Austin crossing the snowy courtyard to his thinking spot behind the inn. He looked upset.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, watching snowflakes fall around him.
Will I have to choose between the role of a lifetime and the love of my life?
