"Three years," they'd proudly say, linking arms and grinning. "Three years of love." With that, they'd turn to each other and kiss each other's cheeks.
The person they were talking to would usually laugh, flushing a bit at seeing such a love scene playing out before them. "Good for you," they'd grin, and Jamie and Aurelia would break apart.
They'd been together for three years, the story of their meeting now on bookshelves across the globe. "Wordless Love" was the name of the book that recorded Jamie and Aurelia's meeting—Aurelia as his Portuguese maid—and the spontaneous marriage proposal that changed their lives forever.
They'd met a short two weeks after Jamie had found his "one and only love" cheating on him with his brother. Promptly, he'd gone to his beautiful summer home. His neighbor had given him a cleaning lady who spoke only Portuguese—Aurelia—and the two had fallen in love by just the few words spoken between them. Soon after they'd parted, both learned each other's languages and, one month after, they'd been married. It was the idealistic love story, and also just what the UK wanted. Aurelia and Jamie had enough money to throw some into a pool and lounge in it.
But there was one thing missing.
"Jamie, I don't know why you're so afraid of this." Aurelia looked distressed, looking at Jamie as if he was some sort of horrible monster that had worn her out. "Don't you want to add to the fame-lee?" The fame-lee was another way of saying "family." Aurelia hadn't yet perfected her English, even after three years in the UK.
"Family," sighed Jamie, rubbing his forehead. "And, it's just… you could have given me time…"
"Didn't you assume? It's been three years. Most people have a three-year-old kid by now!"
"I didn't assume… my … no."
"You don't want a family? A complete one, I mean?"
"We seemed pretty complete to me."
"Come on!"
"I just… can I have some time?" He looked at her pleadingly, eyes wide and mouth smiling gently.
"Sure." She slid into the chair next to him, everything wordlessly resolved.
Just like always.
- - - - - -
David awoke to Natalie, her brown eyes smiling down at him. Her red lips were curved upwards in a sideways, tired smile.
"Hello, there," he grinned up at her. "Why are you here so early?"
"I've brought you biscuits," she replied, "and you've got a meeting in an hour."
"Great. About the biscuits." Henry lay his head back. "Not so great about the meeting."
"It's with the President."
With that, he sat up. "Today? Is that meeting today?"
"Yeah." She nodded sympathetically.
"You're staying out of the room," he said, half-joking, half-serious.
"Ha." She frowned. "But really, I'll stay out."
"Oh, Natalie." Henry flopped back down. "You know I'm kidding."
"Yeah." She giggled nervously. Then, she flipped her arm under his head, coaxing it up gently. "You've got to go now! I've got biscuits."
"Right," said Henry, propelling himself with the thought. "Biscuits."
- - - - -
Judy's cute, blonde-banged face was shining with sweat. She wasn't smiling anymore. She'd just finished up with a particularly hard scene, one full of tears and depression because the main character had died.
"That is it," she said. "If you don't turn down the lights, I swear to God I will come over there and shoot your brains out!"
John was cracking up beside her. The two had become a decently-famous duo; mostly sticking to tragicomedies and romances that got three stars and good reviews.
"Judy," he cried through laughs, "if you shoot somebody's brains out, the world is coming to an end."
She always got annoyed when it came to lights. In all of their three years of engagement and two years of real acting, she'd hated when the lights blared down on her after a stressful day. "Can't we put some mood lighting up?" she was asking. "Dim them?"
"No," the director sighed, cracking his knuckles. His face was set in a weary, sad state—Judy caused him trouble when it was the end of the day and the fifteenth shoot.
"I cannot produce anymore tears under these lights," she replied stubbornly. "I cannot produce any decent acting when you're frigging burning up my hair."
John reached out to rub his hand on her shoulder. "Shh, Judy. Everything's okay."
She looked back at him, her cute demeanor very frazzled. "Can we go?"
"Can we go?" John asked, turning to the director. "Please."
"Yeah," the director nodded. "And it's a wrap!" he called, standing up and shooing everybody away with a wave of his hand.
"Thank god," Judy grinned, linking arms with John. "Let's go."
John nodded to her. "Let's just get this makeup on first."
As the two walked out, Judy was breathing deeply, calming herself. "I'm sorry that I acted like that." She said this every couple days when she got like that, apologetic for her stress.
"It's fine. Really, babe." He rubbed her arm with one finger, his signal that he wasn't angry—not in the slightest. "You might have to apologize to Mr. Simmons, though." Mr. Simmons was the director. "I think he's about to shoot his own brains out."
"Do I have to? Can't I just send an email and one of those happy singing bears to his door? You know… 'Don't worry, be happy! Judy's apologizing!'" She said the don't worry be happy in a singsong voice, making John crack up all over again.
After he'd collected himself, John shrugged. "I think you should talk to him."
Judy, always obliging, and always cute, ran over to Mr. Simmons. "Mr. Simmons," she said, and then continued on to apologize.
Judy and John had been engaged for three years now. They were always discussing the wedding as if it was going to happen soon—"Oh, I want my wedding dress to be this one!" "I think Lilly should be my bridesmaid." "Oh, give us this silverware set when the wedding comes around, Collin! No need to do it now." But it wasn't going to happen soon. They kept setting dates—in six months, in a year, in two years. But they weren't seriously considering it yet. The ring was only a promise that they'd get married some time or another, even if it wasn't in the next ten years.
They were in love, no doubt, but both were hopeless romantics. Love wasn't something to be dealt with so easily. They'd taken the time to know each other, to strengthen to love, to be passionate about one another. They'd broken up once or twice because both believed in "Absence makes the heart grow stronger." Neither had dated in the time of their one-week breakups because they missed the other so badly. J&J were perfect for each other. And their acting partnership only made the "heart grow stronger."
- - - - -
"David." Karen's voice came over the phone, wavering as usual. "I need your child support check."
David glanced over at Mia, who was currently poking her new child—a two-month old little baby—in the tummy. "I'll send it, Karen."
Karen sounded frantic as she cried, "You always say that! I need it."
"Can't you use Timothy's money?"
"I do, but that's not enough. Obviously I do! Are you calling my boyfriend a dud?"
Most all of them are is what David wanted to say, but instead, he replied, "No. I'll send it tonight."
"Good. Please, David; you don't know how you support us—"
"I know."
"Thanks." She sounded so upset that David could barely stand it. "But please send it quicker next time."
"I will."
- - - -
Collin hadn't slept in two days. He knew it because he counted down each other, and he was at exactly 48 now. The clock struck twelve as he rolled over, sighing discontentedly.
It had been seven days, four hours, and six minutes since Harriet had broken up with him. She hadn't wanted to stay in the UK, and he wasn't willing to return to the US. He'd known their distance would eventually ruin the relationship. She couldn't stay in Britain forever.
Slowly, Collin sat up and grabbed the remote control. He clicked on the television and lay back, letting the murmurs of the TV waft around him.
"It's 12:00 here at ENG News Station, and we're here with your reporter, Eliza! Eliza's here to interview Billy Mack. So, Billy! You're a very unexpected star here in the UK. Beginning with your Christmas song three years ago, you've raced up on the charts again! How does it feel to be returning to stardom? Do you have many flashbacks of your younger years?"
"Oh, all the time," slurred Billy, looking at the pretty anchorwoman like she was a piece of meat. She noticed this and scooted away, but very discreetly. Collin laughed. "I keep thinking of partying with the young folks. Now, all I've got is the oldies!" He pointed to the camera. "I'm talking to you, Elton, you big lug of fat."
The anchorwoman smiled at him. "Oh, are you an Elton close?"
"No. I just go to his parties." Billy brushed some gray hair from his face. "They're nice. All sorts of nice-looking women, dancing."
"Oh. Well!" The anchorwoman tried to smile more at the camera. Collin thought, She should've been warned of his odd sense of humor. But obviously, she hadn't been. She looked mystified. "Well," she repeated. "Billy, tell us something about climbing up the charts again."
"Well," he mimicked. "It hurts my hands. I've never been much of a chart-climber. More of a rock-climber."
This was actually funny. Laughs went round at the station, but Collin remained unsmiling. He kept thinking of Harriet. Did Harriet like Billy Mack? He'd given her the CD, but he didn't know if she'd listened to it. Maybe she'd liked it because Billy had a British accent. She loved British accents.
"What's your favorite song you've ever recorded?" the anchorwoman asked, looking at him in a cute way. She pushed a bit of brunette bang from her eyes and rubbed her hand down her bob.
He nodded at her. "Well, I like 'Love is Everywhere.' I don't much like the Christmas version; it's a bunch of—" There was a beep here.
"Oh, 'Love is Everywhere'? Quite the romantic, are we, Billy?"
"Yes, ma'am." He winked at the camera. "I love me some romance!"
Collin sighed and turned off the TV. He was sick of Billy Mack's odd quirks and the anchorwoman's awkwardness. He was sick of everything. All he wanted was his beautiful, stupid, hilarious American girlfriend Harriet.