Happily Ever His: Movie Stars in Maryland, Book One

by Stewart, Delancey

  “Ryan seems nice.” I couldn’t help it. There was a strange excitement in even getting to speak his name, and it didn’t seem to matter that I’d told myself I wasn’t going to talk about him, think about him today.

  I knew it was impossible. He was here. He was gorgeous and kind. And I was no better off than I’d been before my workout, as if speaking his name brought every misplaced feeling I had for him racing right back in.

  I tried not to think too hard about the things my sister got to do with him. About whether they’d done any of those things last night after I’d gone to bed, and replayed our single near-kiss over and over in my mind like a lovesick child.

  “He’s a good guy.” The words were right, and she sounded like she meant them, but I’d somehow expected something more. More passion, maybe. More enthusiasm. I knew I’d have a hard time not gushing if Ryan McDonnell was my boyfriend.

  “You’ve just been seeing each other a couple weeks? I mean, you weren’t seeing him before … you know …?”

  She shook her head as we started up the stairs. “No. I would have been faithful forever. Even though things …” Her voice cracked a bit on the word forever. “Things had gotten harder,” she said, and it was as if she’d admitted to killing a kitten. She sounded so guilty, like she blamed herself for failing at marriage.

  “Jul,” I said, reaching up to pat her back ahead of me. “I’m so sorry.”

  She turned and gave me an appraising look, and then sighed. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”

  “So tell me.” I wasn’t used to Juliet being cryptic, but it had been a while since we’d seen one another. Time and space had driven us apart.

  “I can’t,” she said simply, stepping out into the hallway next to the kitchen. “The magazine people are here.” She pointed to the front parlor, where I could see people moving past the open doorway and hear unfamiliar voices. One of the hulking security guards stood next to the door and he grinned at Juliet when he saw us standing there. Those guys were creepily everywhere, and managed to stay silent, even though they were huge. I guessed that was their job. I peered around him at the bustle in the room.

  “Crap, they’re really early,” I said, keeping my voice low. It wasn’t even nine A.M.

  “It’s good. Maybe we’ll be done early,” she said.

  “I need to shower. I wanted to be ready. I had a plan.” A small panic rose in me. I’d wanted to be prepared for them to arrive, to greet them and offer coffee and tea, to seem worldly and put-together. But they were an hour earlier than I’d expected them, and I was drenched in sweat.

  “It’s fine Tess, you don’t have to wait on anyone.” She said it like a person who never worried about waiting on anyone, and the differences between our lives were brought into sharp relief in my mind.

  “I got this.” I took a deep breath and did what I needed to do. I pretended perspiration wasn’t actually dripping from the back of my hair and sliding down my neck as I welcomed the photographers, makeup artists, and the interviewer into my home. I acted like this was how I’d intended to look when the two biggest movie stars in the country were about to be interviewed in my house, like I was just. That. Casual.

  “There’s some coffee and tea, and some muffins and fruit in the dining room,” I told them. “Or, I mean, there will be in a minute or two …”

  “I’m sorry we’re early,” Alison Sands told me, offering the smile I’d seen a few times before when the magazine had done segments on television entertainment shows. She was pretty and put together in her crisp black skirt suit, and standing next to her made me feel even more like a sweaty disaster. “We weren’t sure how much time to allow—you’re pretty far out here!”

  The frown crossed my face before I could contain it. It wasn’t as if we lived in the middle of nowhere. Southern Maryland was civilized. We had a Target. And two Starbucks!

  “It’s fine,” I managed, though coming at the time you were invited was much more civilized in my mind than showing up an hour early, especially in the morning. I decided to let it roll off my shoulders, and then I went to defrost muffins I’d made a week ago and brew coffee. Juliet came in to pull some fruit from the refrigerator, maybe sensing my desperation. When we’d gotten it all out on the dining room table and the magazine team was at work setting up for the interview, I turned to my sister.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told her, and then I turned to sprint up the stairs to attempt to break the record for world’s quickest shower. Naturally, Ryan was coming down, and I barreled directly into him. Because, clearly, that was how my day was going to go.

  “Oh crap,” I said, startled as his strong hands found their way around my arms to steady me. “I’m so sorry.” He was two steps above me, so I was staring at his chest. His strong, perfect chest, on display through a fitted dark button down shirt. I was already covered in a sheen of sweat, so hopefully he didn’t notice the way my skin heated and flushed.

  “You okay?” He asked with a laugh in his voice.

  “Fine. Sorry.” I stepped back down, out of his grip, and dodged around him, in too much of a hurry to try to stifle the careening butterflies in my gut or the desperate desire to stand there in front of him for hours upon hours. Or maybe forever. “Be right back.”

  I took what could potentially be qualified as a shower in parts of the world where water was scarce—the kind where each part of your body got the vaguest of rinses with the water. Then I put on some makeup and twisted my hair up into a bun, and arrived back downstairs to find the interview already underway. I wondered what kind of notes they might have already made about Juliet’s super-sweaty sister.

  Juliet and Ryan sat side by side, facing toward the picture window at the front of the parlor. They were flanked by all sorts of lights and reflective umbrellas, and the interviewer sat on a high stool in front of them, her legs crossed primly at the ankles.

  “I thought this was a magazine interview,” I said to the big dark haired guard standing in the doorway watching.

  He turned and gave me a smile that was surprisingly sweet for a guy so huge and terrifyingly … huge. “They’re doing this segment for promo and to feature on a couple of the nightly shows.”

  I nodded as if this was just a standard happening in my daily life, and lingered for just a second. They were still doing sound checks and measuring lighting, so I stepped out and went to the dining room for a cup of coffee and a quick bite.

  I was feeling better. I was dressed and dry, and had done hostessy things like making coffee and offering it to the crew. This was more like I’d imagined the day going.

  Except. Where was Gran? I didn’t hear her cursing, so that was something.

  I tiptoed back out of the room and wandered the main level of the house, peeking out onto the porch and scanning the yard. She sometimes did Tai Chi out under the trees on the riverbank, but she wasn’t out there now. I approached the door to the room where we’d moved her gaming computer and wasn’t too surprised to hear her grumbling at the monitor. I pushed the door open and was greeted by a cloud of dense smoke hanging in the air, its telltale aroma pungent and thick. Because of course Gran wouldn’t care what a Hollywood magazine was going to write about us.

  “Gran!” I scolded. “It’s not even nine AM!”

  She turned in her huge black chair and stared at me with too-round eyes and a little guilty smile. “Tess. I needed to relax. Big raid today.”

  I shook my head. I did not need this today. “No big raid today. You promised no Warcraft today. And no pot!” I hissed.

  “You can’t trust anyone over forty,” she told me. “Haven’t you ever heard that?”

  “Oh my God,” I said, opening windows and waving my arms around over my head. “It reeks in here. The magazine people are here—do you want them to put this in the article?”

  Gran shrugged.

  “And now I smell like pot!” So much for appearing put together.

  Gran shrugged again, giving me a simpering
smile as she crossed her arms.

  “No games and no pot until they’re gone!” I told her.

  “Fine,” she said, pouting and then taking another quick drag on her joint.

  “Give me that!” I said, reaching to grab it and stub it out in her ashtray.

  “You could use it,” she said, nodding.

  “I’m fine. Just a little …”

  “You’re all worked up over hotty McHot Stuff being with your sister out there. I remember when you watched that movie of his every day for three weeks.”

  I had been just slightly obsessed with Meet me in Manhattan. But that was a few years ago. I was far more mature now, and Ryan never did romantic movies anymore.

  “Gran …” I started, but she reached forward and shut off the monitor, giving me a sweet smile.

  “Thank you.” I leaned down next to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe you could go sit outside a bit? Get some fresh air?” I worried that the smell of smoke had already wrapped itself through every fiber of her tracksuit, her hair. I didn’t know what the magazine people would make of a pot-smoking, Warcraft-raiding granny in Juliet’s life, but I had to assume those things wouldn’t help paint the picture of her idyllic childhood here in Maryland. We needed to try to help Juliet. She’d been through enough.

  Gran finally stood and we went together to the back porch, where I settled her with a muffin, a cup of coffee, and her Kindle. Besides gaming, she had a penchant for erotic literature.

  “I’m going back in to watch the interview,” I said.

  She ignored me, already reading, and I turned quickly, my attention drawn by the sound of a screeching chicken. Oh God. Chessy.

  Back inside, Juliet and Ryan sat holding hands casually and smiling as if they did this every day, but Juliet’s eyes were huge as she tracked the half-flight, half-sprint of an enraged chicken streaking through the room at Alison.

  “Chessy!” I shrieked before I thought better of it. I dashed into the room, pulling the chicken away from where she was trying to peck at the interviewer’s legs. Alison had pulled herself up to balance on the top of the stool, her mouth in an exaggerated open gape and her eyes enormous as she stared at me like her last salvation.

  “What is that thing?” Alison asked in a whisper-hiss full of the kind of shock that someone who’s never been pecked by a house-chicken before will use.

  I’d finally caught Chessy and held her against my chest where she quit struggling once she had craned her neck around so she could gaze lovingly at Jack. “This is Chessy,” I said, realizing that an insane indoor chicken probably wasn’t going to help Juliet. But it was too late to fix this. Better to just be truthful.

  “Why is it inside?” Alison asked, horrified.

  “She’s an indoor chicken,” I said, figuring that explaining how Chessy had been targeted by the mean girl chickens out in the coop and bullied within an inch of her little chicken life probably wouldn’t be good fodder for the article. “It’s very trendy here in Maryland,” I said, trying to fix this but realizing I’d already gone too far.

  “Really?” Alison asked, finally letting her legs down from where she’d balanced atop the stool.

  “Oh yes,” I said. “You should see all the fancy ladies out at lunch with their hens in designer bags. I’m surprised they’re not doing it in California yet. It’s a nod to environmentalism and humane treatment of animals, and antibiotics…” I trailed off, my mind wanting to link fashionable chicken husbandry to global warming somehow, but not quite getting there. I was distracted by the amused smile spreading across Ryan McDonnell’s face as he listened to me talk.

  His eyes danced and he shook his head lightly, grinning at me.

  For a split second, I met his eye and little shocks went through me all the way to my lady bits and back.

  “Interesting,” Alison was saying as she jotted something in her notebook.

  “I’m sorry, I thought Chessy was out of the way,” I said, turning to put the chicken back in the kitchen.

  “My fault,” Jack said, leaning in as I passed him.

  Chessy struggled in my arms, every little chicken cell she possessed trying to get closer to Jack.

  “I went in the kitchen to put away my coffee cup and she saw me. I thought I got that door closed…”

  “A chicken’s adoration can unlock any door, I guess,” I told him. “Not your fault.” I smiled at the big guard who was observing the chicken with wary eyes. He shocked me by reaching out to take her from me.

  “I’ll just hang on to her.” Chessy beamed up at him, nestling her head into his big chest.

  “If you’re sure,” I said. When he didn’t protest, but stroked the chicken’s head instead, I went back out into the parlor.

  Juliet and Ryan were leaning into one another, smiling like a couple that knew every secret the other kept. My stomach twisted as I took up a spot in a corner, out of the way.

  “It wasn’t love at first sight really,” Juliet was saying. “I mean, I’d seen Ryan of course—who hadn’t? He was in every amazing action movie I saw.” I schooled my face into a mask. I could handle listening to my sister gush about Ryan. Of course I could. He was her boyfriend. To me, he was just … a man I needed to stop thinking about. One who made my whole body feel like it was getting ready to erupt.

  Ryan beamed at Juliet. “It was more like complete adoration at first sight,” he said, pulling her hand up to kiss.

  I stifled a groan. This might be harder to watch than I’d anticipated.

  “Are you willing to talk a bit about Zac Stevens? Your divorce and the rumors surrounding it?” The interviewer asked my sister, who stiffened slightly.

  “We don’t need to drag her through that,” Ryan said.

  Juliet relaxed a bit. “It’s fine. What do you want to know?”

  I’d never liked Zac. I wasn’t entirely sure Juliet had really liked him. I’d always thought there was something odd about their relationship, but now watching Juliet stiffly holding Ryan’s hand, I was beginning to think maybe that’s just how my sister was when she was with a man. It was strange, though.

  “There are rumors that Zac was caught cheating with one of the staff at your house, Juliet. Is that accurate?” I already knew this was true. I hated that my sister had to deal with that.

  Juliet nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “And it was you who caught them?”

  “Again, yes. Not my favorite way to return home after being on location for weeks.” She tried a smile, but it faltered. I’d already heard the whole story, and I hated it. Poor Juliet.

  Ryan reached out his other hand and laid it atop Juliet’s, cradling her hand between his. She shot him a grateful smile. He was sweet, caring.

  “There are other rumors,” the reporter continued. “About the settlement. That you’re being blackmailed, that Zac has a tape he’s threatening to release.”

  I felt shock work its way through me. Was this what Juliet had wanted to tell me? Was Zac really enough of a dick to be trying to blackmail the woman who made him famous and gave him a life he never would have had on his own?

  Juliet forced a tight smile to her lips. “That is something I can’t discuss, actually,” she said. “The settlement is still being sorted by the lawyers, so I’m not able to give you any specifics, I’m afraid.”

  “But what about the blackmail rumor?” The reporter persisted.

  Ryan leaned forward, gave the reporter a smile that made my blood heat. “I think we can find other things to talk about, can’t we? No one in the midst of a divorce wants their dirty laundry aired. Not even America’s sweetheart.” His words said, “back off, lady,” but his tone and his smile almost made me believe he’d invited the reporter home for Christmas, they were so charming.

  She stilled, swallowing a frown, and then moved on to asking about the movie Ryan and Juliet had just finished working on. I listened, but found myself more and more distracted just watching Ryan. The way his long legs stretched
out before him, clad in dark jeans that showed the contours of the muscles beneath, the easy set of his torso in the chair. His clean-shaven face and the azure blue eyes surrounded by all those dark lashes gave him an aura of sincerity, of good-natured strength that drew me in. And his voice was gravel laced with honey; every time he spoke, something inside me stood to attention, urged me to move closer.

  At one point I met his eyes over the head of the interviewer and my entire body zinged with a jolt of vibrating fire. I’d tried to avoid looking right at him, but when his gaze met mine, he held it for a long minute. And when he dropped my eyes and turned back to my sister, I was left feeling cold. This was not good.

  As the first portion of the interview wrapped up and the threesome stood and made to move through the house for photos in various places, I felt like I was rousing myself from sleep. I’d been watching Ryan so intensely, given the ability to do so by the setup of the interview and the situation. And I’d been watching my sister, too—watching them together. It was like picking at a painful wound, but I couldn’t help it.

  The reporter spotted me as they moved from the room. “So,” she said. “Thanks for setting everything up for us, Tess. And for handling the runaway chicken situation.”

  “It’s no trouble,” I lied. It was a fair amount of trouble, and given that we were expecting about a hundred guests tomorrow evening for Gran’s ninetieth birthday party, I had a lot of other things I could be doing.

  “So nice of you to let us invade like this.” She looked thoughtful. “Would you be willing to be in a few photos? Janet can touch up your makeup a bit.” She indicated a girl seated next to an open case, brushes and powders on the table before her.

  I eyed Janet and her array of tools. Makeup had never been my forte. I’d dashed through the shower this morning and then put on a little blush and mascara before swiping a gloss on my lips and coming down.

  “Um. Sure,” I said. A tiny part of me thrilled at getting to stick a toe into the world where my sister lived. But another part of me wondered why I would bother. This wasn’t my thing at all. My world was kayaks and paddles, water, sunscreen, and bug spray.