“No, Maddie, I’m sorry.” He needed to apologize, he just wasn’t sure what to apologize for first. “I didn’t know about Beaumont. Do you want me to get your job back?”
“No!” She softened. “Please don’t. It’s fine. He’s a prick anyway.”
“He is.” Say it. Tell her you’re sorry about the reporter. Tell her you didn’t mean it. Tell her you love her. “Maddie—” This was so awkward over the phone. He paused, suddenly aware of echoing background noises. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the airport. I’m going home, Micah.”
“Oh.” Shit. The weight on his chest returned.
She cleared her throat. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I just wanted to get out of there, you know?”
“Uh, yeah.” He rubbed his hand over his face. Why should she stay? Her job was the only reason she was in Colorado.
But he’d hoped she’d stay for him. Instead she’d run. Did he blame her? Hadn’t he run from her first? “Yeah, I get it.”
“But I wanted to say thank you for the past few weeks.” Her words were stiff and rehearsed. “I had a really fun time.”
Fun? Micah resisted the urge to throw his phone. Sure, they had fun together, but they had experienced so much more than that. He knew he hadn’t imagined it.
Fuck, he wasn’t trying hard enough. “It doesn’t have to be over, Maddie,” he said softly. “What I said to that journalist—”
He heard an intercom announcement in the background. “Hey, I have to go. They’re boarding my flight.”
“Wait, Maddie!” He paused, making sure he could still hear her on the line. Stay. He wanted to ask her to stay. But he chickened out. “Can I call you?”
“Of course.” Her voice cracked, but she recovered. “Talk to you soon.”
Then she was gone.
He threw his fist into the bed. Hard. Even though her words said differently, she’d just shut him out. That phone call, the reason she’d finally answered—she was telling him goodbye.
He should have gone after her.
Twenty-Six
Even after a two-and-a-half-hour flight and a long delay at baggage claim, Maddie still had Micah’s phone call in her head. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him, afraid that she’d break down and run back, but he deserved a goodbye. Besides, knowing him, he wouldn’t quit calling and texting until she talked to him.
She’d been right—the minute she heard his voice she couldn’t remember why she’d left. But why would she have stayed? Her job was over and Micah hadn’t given her any reason not to go. He hadn’t asked her not to leave, hadn’t told her he wanted to keep seeing her. Hadn’t told her he loved her the way she had stupidly told him. Leaving was the only thing to do.
The conversation had gone well enough. She’d communicated the things that were necessary: I had fun and I left because I was fired. She didn’t want him thinking she’d left because of him. She needed a clean break.
She’d told him he could call. That was the polite thing to do, though she didn’t plan to answer again. Clean. Break.
It doesn’t have to be over, Maddie.
That was what gave her pause, the words she’d played over and over again in her mind. What did he mean? Did he mean they could still shack up until the end of the shoot? Or longer? If it was an attempt to continue their relationship past Friday, it was half-hearted at best. And she couldn’t stay for a half-hearted invitation. Hopeless romantic Maddie wanted whole-heart. She wanted an “I love you” or “Don’t go.”
It didn’t matter. He had told her over and over he didn’t believe in a real relationship. She’d been the fool for thinking she could change him.
She texted Bree, telling her she’d be outside in five, slung her bag higher on her shoulder and headed out to the passenger pick-up exit. Bree had been circling the airport and was already waiting when Maddie walked through the automatic doors to the street.
“Oh, sweetie!” Bree jumped out of her car and threw her arms around her friend. “I’m here for you. I want to hear everything.”
Maddie, not normally a hugger, pressed into Bree’s embrace, enjoying the feeling of being cared for. Tears started again, and she pulled away, wiping her eyes. “There’s a lot to tell.”
“Start talking.”
After her bags were tucked in the trunk, Maddie climbed into the passenger seat, buckled her belt and recounted the last six weeks. Bree knew bits of it, but Maddie filled in all the holes. By the time she’d told it all, they were back in her apartment in Studio City, curled up on the couch, each with a glass of cheap white zin.
Bree, having said very little, took a deep breath. “Okay, first, Beaumont’s an ass. You already knew that.”
Maddie nodded. “How can you stand to be his assistant?”
“I’m rarely in the same room with him. We communicate mainly by phone and it’s easy to ignore his assholishness. Besides, I don’t threaten him. You do.”
“I don’t threaten him.”
“Yes, you do. You’re smart, talented, and you have vision—traits that B. has himself, but he’s very afraid he’s losing or has already lost. Anyway, my point is, don’t worry about him. He faxed me a new call schedule today. They’ll be able to fit the reshoot in without going much past deadline. I had to change a couple of flights out of Denver and extend a permit, but it’s all taken care of with very little cost or inconvenience. The movie’s going to be fine.”
Maddie let out a breath. She took pride in her work and had been upset about the lost footage, even though it wasn’t any of her concern anymore.
Bree looked Maddie in the eye. “And B.’s not going to destroy you. I won’t let him.”
“Thank you.” Maddie took a long swallow.
“That’s what I’m here for.” Bree swirled the liquid around in her glass. “What are you scheduled to do next?”
“I’m supposed to join the crew in two weeks on the set for a Danny Boyle film.”
“Good.”
Maddie bit her lip. “But I already texted Adam and gave him my notice.”
Bree smiled. “Even better. Are you going to work on your own film instead?”
“Yes.” She’d decided this on the plane. She had some money set aside that she could live on for a bit while she tried to get some producers. Micah had thought her material was good enough. Still, she’d been blacklisted for a reason. “Is that stupid?”
“No. Your work is even better now than it was when the first Beaumont fiasco happened. It’s gotta get a nibble, blacklisted or not. Besides, he can’t rule all of Hollywood forever. Do you have a trailer cut?”
Maddie nodded.
“Get it to me, and a copy of the script, and I’ll pass it around to some people I know. It might take a while to convince people that whatever Beaumont has said about you is a lie, but we’ll get there.”
“Bree, before with Beaumont, I failed. It wasn’t just him being a dick.”
“You only failed because he didn’t give you a chance to succeed. When are you going to learn that?”
“When are you going to start acting again?”
“Ha, ha, we’re not talking about me right now.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, about Micah.”
Maddie sighed. “I told you everything.”
“I’m sure you think you told me everything. But there’s some things I need to clarify because I’m not certain you know what you’re doing on this.”
Maddie reached for the wine bottle and refilled her glass. “I do know what I’m doing.” She didn’t want to talk about Micah anymore. She wanted to move on. But Bree wasn’t easily deterred. “Okay. You’ve got five minutes.”
Bree moved up to her knees and rested her arm on the back of the sofa. “So he told a reporter that he was single?”
“Yes.”
“After you’d been with him for like half a minute?”
“Three weeks,” Maddie corrected. “But, yes.”
“And you’d both agreed to keep med
ia out of your relationship?”
She lowered her head. “Yes.”
“What the hell, Maddie?”
She knew she was being unreasonable, but that didn’t change what she felt, what she wanted. “I want it to be more.”
Bree’s face softened. “Did you ask him to be more?”
Had she? “Not exactly.” She thought back over their relationship. “Well, I might have said the L word.”
“Maddie!” She lowered her voice. “Did you mean it?”
Maddie paused, not wanting to admit it now, after they were over. “Yes, I meant it. But I only said it once, during…you know. Does that count?”
“With you, yes it does. But maybe he needed it spelled out for him. Did you not have any other chance during those three weeks to tell him? Or was incredible sex all you had time for?”
“No.” She grinned. “We were having incredible sex. But we talked, too.”
Bree pressed her. “Then you didn’t tell him because…?”
“Because he’d say ‘not interested’ and I’d get hurt. Or— ”
“Or he'd say ‘me, too’ and give you more.”
Maddie scowled at the interruption. “Or he'd say, ‘Let’s just take this one day at a time.’ Eventually you can’t do that anymore. You have to make plans. You have to know where you’re going.”
Bree lifted her hands as if to strangle Maddie. “It’s Micah flippin’ Preston, Maddie! He’s the guy. If he wanted me one day at a time, I’d be on that in a heartbeat and he’s not even my type.”
“He might be the guy, but he doesn’t think I’m the girl.”
“But he hasn’t said that exactly, right? So you’re just running before he gets a chance to. Okay, whatever. Go ahead and be chickenshit.”
“He doesn’t believe Hollywood relationships can work, Bree.” Her voice was raised and tight in her throat. “Until he believes otherwise, there’s no point. He’d always be expecting us to fail. He’d always look for reasons to justify why we shouldn’t be together.”
“Well, that could be true.” Bree took a swallow of her wine. “And you think he’s totally sold on that stars-can’t-date thing?”
Maddie took a moment to think before she answered. Micah had said he was considering a future with her. She hadn’t forgotten that. But he’d said that to her in a hot air balloon far above the Colorado landscape. It had been like a beautiful dream, a romantic place that stirred romantic notions. Kind of like saying I love you during sex.
God, had he dismissed her words as easily as she was dismissing his?
It didn’t matter. Because even if she believed the words he said in the air, she couldn’t forget the words he’d said on the ground. “I haven’t seen anything to change my mind.” And more important were the words he never said—he never said he chose her.
“I don’t think he wants to be totally sold on it,” Maddie said finally. “But yes, he is.”
“Well, that’s a load of shit. People in Hollywood date all the fucking time.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” This wasn’t anything Maddie hadn’t thought about a hundred times. But she’d also considered Micah’s point of view. “You have to admit, though, this town has a higher rate of failed relationships than most places.”
“I don’t have to admit shit. You’re talking about Micah being all self-fulfilling prophecy with his viewpoint and all, but what about you? You sound as convinced that it isn’t going to work out as he is.” She shook her head in frustration. “If you really loved him, you think you’d have a little more faith.”
“I’m kinda all out of faith, Bree. This whole biz has jaded me.”
“I get it. But I just have to ask…” Bree reached over and tapped Maddie on the nose. “What if he loves you too?”
Maddie traced the bowl of her wine glass with her index finger. “He could have told me during those three weeks.”
“Did it ever occur to you that he might be just as stupid at this type of thing as you are?”
Maddie thought back to the hot air balloon ride, when Micah had taken her hand in his. I’m scared. That had only been a day and a half ago. Maybe she was short-changing him. Maybe he really wanted to give her more. Maybe he just needed more time.
But that was a lot of maybes, a lot of opportunities for Maddie to get hurt. Yeah, that’s right, Micah, I’m scared, too. Too scared.
She was done with Micah. She looked at her watch. “Your five minutes are up.”
“Madalyn Rae Bauers!”
She threw her head back and groaned at the use of her full name. Maddie knew her friend. If she didn’t give something, Bree would harp on her all night. “All right, if I see him again, I’ll talk to him.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” But Maddie didn’t plan on seeing Micah again. Seven years had passed between their first and second meetings. It couldn’t be that hard to pass another seven before she saw him again. Now it was time to move on.
Twenty-Seven
“Ms. Bauers, right this way please. The team is waiting in the private conference room.”
Maddie grabbed Bree’s hand to steady her shaky knees as they followed the receptionist to the conference room at Three Spot Films. She still couldn’t believe that Bree had gotten her a meeting with potential investors only two weeks after her return from Colorado. It had to be a record in the movie biz.
The receptionist, a petite Asian woman, led them toward a small room with glass walls. Inside, Maddie could make out three men and a woman sitting around a table. Two of them had their backs to her. Something about the scene triggered a feeling of familiarity, but before she could analyze it further, Bree put a hand on her shoulder.
“Maddie, hang on a sec.”
“Take your time,” the receptionist said, stepping aside so they could talk privately.
Maddie took a deep breath, preparing herself for the pep talk she was certain Bree was about to give her.
Instead, Bree turned Maddie so she was no longer facing the conference room and took both her friend’s hands in her own. “Um, don’t be mad, okay?”
“About...?”
Normally confident and self-assured, Bree seemed flustered. “See, here’s the thing. I have names of people that Beaumont works with, of course I do, but none of them care what I have to say about an unknown filmmaker. And, Maddie, the people Beaumont works with are the ones who’ve heard shit about you from him. They don’t want to work with you. I could shop your movie all day long for the rest of my life and still not get a single meeting. Producers need a name attached, someone who is in the biz who’s willing to go to bat for you.”
Maddie’s stomach dropped. “What did you do?”
“He contacted me, Maddie.”
Maddie pulled away and looked back over her shoulder, not wanting to confirm her suspicion, but needing to all the same. Yes, the familiar feeling about the people in the conference room—one of them was Micah. She felt faint.
She hadn’t talked to Micah since the airport. He had called at least once a day even though she never answered. His text messages were more frequent, but those she deleted right away without fully reading. Because if she didn’t, who knew what she’d read into them?
Nights were the hardest. Her queen size bed felt large and cold. She’d toss and turn for hours. Finally, she’d pull out her laptop and Google his name, reading every article ever written about him, watching every YouTube interview. She always ended up staring at the photos of him and her together. Then she’d cry and eventually fall asleep.
She so wasn’t over him yet. There was no way she could see him now. All he had to do was smile at her and she’d be putty in his hands. “I’m not going in there.”
Bree gripped Maddie’s arms at the shoulders. “Yes, you are. This is your dream. Don’t be stupid about it.” Here was the pep talk. Just not the one Maddie had expected. “It’s good business, Maddie. He recognizes your talent and he’s been looking for a project to invest in. And
it’s not just him. Three Spots wouldn’t be on board if they didn’t think it was good. Take the meeting. Decide then.”
“I can’t work with him. I can’t see him all the time.”
“They’re just investors. You can demand complete creative control. If you don’t want to see him, then kick him off the team. Take the meeting.”
Her career, her dreams. Micah had said that every day was a choice—career or not career. If she didn’t go in that room, she might never have the chance to choose career again. If he could be so single minded, so could she. She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Good. Now go get ‘em.”
Maddie shook her arms out, took another deep breath, and nodded at the receptionist.
“Right this way,” the receptionist said, taking them the rest of the way to the conference room. She opened the door and announced them. “Ms. Bauers and Ms. Weber.”
One of them, a tall gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair dressed in a light gray suit, stood and crossed to her, extending his hand to Maddie. “Hi, Ms. Bauers, I’m Richard Thurgood. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She shook his hand. “Maddie, please. This is my, uh, associate, Bree ”
Richard shook Bree’s hand, then gestured to the other man, a younger version of himself. “This is my brother and partner Lance, and the third spot in the Three Spots is our good friend Kelsey Grey.”
Maddie shook hands with Lance and Kelsey.
Then she faced Micah. God, oh God, he was hotter than she wanted to remember. He still hadn’t shaved his scruff, but it was trimmed and more groomed than he had worn it for the film. His eyes were bluer and deeper, was it possible? And his lips, curved down slightly, taunted her with memories of sweet kisses. Just being near him made her heart pound faster and her eyes misty.
“Of course you already know Micah,” Richard said.
Micah took her hand in greeting. The familiar electric spark from his contact surged through Maddie’s body, and her knees buckled. Thankfully she had her other hand on the back of a chair so that he wouldn’t notice, though something in his expression said he knew anyway.
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