by Anna Cove
Melt My Heart
Anna Cove
Copyright 2020 by Anna Cove
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Trademarked names may appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner's trademark.
www.annacove.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Author's Letter
Find me Online
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Claire Jarrett, my editor, who helped me find the story in the mess of the manuscript I gave her, gently and carefully. Without her, Melt My Heart might have been a stalker-thriller-celebrity-mountain-mental breakdown-contemporary romance with a dash of humor. Now, it's the story it's supposed to be. A story of two people who have been through a long, lonely winter, coming together in love into a spring thaw.
CHAPTER ONE
LAURA MUNRO LEANED back in her plush chair, soaking in the rays of the late March spring sun on her bare arms, resting her hands on her rounded belly. She stared at her reflection. Light lines creased her forehead under the brim of her baseball cap. Her hair was far too long, her faded golden mane bordering on unruly for the first time in years. When was the last time she made it to her hairdresser's? She couldn't remember. She gathered her tresses back in a low bun and stared past her sunglasses-clad reflection and out the window, gazing at her new town.
"Can I help you?"
Laura jumped, twisting around as if she'd heard the crack of a branch in the woods. Her body tensed as she analyzed the woman standing before her for threats. No phone. No camera. No weapons. Just a notepad and an apron. The woman's dark hair was short but disheveled, as if she'd been running her hands through it all day, and she stared at her with the most intense tornado storm cloud eyes Laura had ever seen.
It's just the waitress, you fool. She doesn't even know who you are.
She forced herself to smile, returning the woman's serious gaze with what she hoped was enough charm to cover her scared-possum reaction. She hadn't been part of normal society in a long time, but even she knew jumping out of your skin when the waitress asked if you needed anything was not normal. "My friend is ordering coffee at the counter, so we're good. Thanks."
Laura turned back to the window, expecting that to be that, but felt herself react when the woman's voice sounded again. It was low and rasped like the sonorous tone of an upright bass. "Would you like an extra pillow for your back?"
Laura opened her mouth but stopped before she uttered the instinctive no from her lips. She could function very well on her own, thank you very much. But as her due date neared, her belly had grown heavy, and all the walking in the past couple of days had knotted the muscles in her lower back. "Yes, please. A small pillow would be wonderful."
The woman tucked the notepad in her apron and, without a word, moved through the cluster of colorful tables, tastefully decorated with an assortment of artisan objects, past the roaring fire, and over to the bohemian plush couch near the spiral staircase. She seemed to really think about her choice of pillow before selecting a long thin plum-colored number with tassels. As she approached, Laura held out her hand for the pillow. She took it, and using combination of momentum and wrenching, shoved it behind her. When she leaned back, something felt off.
"Here," the woman said, and without letting Laura answer, she picked up the pillow then held it in the arch of Laura's back.
After a brief hesitation, Laura leaned back, and, when she felt the pillow press into her aching muscles, she couldn't help but close her eyes and let out a sigh. Feeling every tired muscle in her neck relax, she lifted her head to thank the woman, only to see her back at the counter, unwinding the black apron strings from her narrow waist. She's the opposite of me right now, Laura thought. Lean, without a curve on her body. No hips, no breasts. Androgynous in a way Laura had always found sexy. Her face was lovely, too, but seemed to be missing something.
Did she have any idea who Laura was? She hadn't treated her like she knew her. But sometimes people were awfully good at pretending not to know her and then did something horrible later. Like sell photos to the paparazzi. She cradled her belly and continued to watch the woman as she walked past Cal. The woman picked up a stack of tattered board games and brought them to the antique dining table around which a handful of teens sat. The teens quieted once they realized she was there and turned their faces to look up at her.
"I have something very serious to talk about today," said the woman.
"Aw, are we going to play Sorry!?" asked one of the girls, setting her chin on an elbow-propped hand.
"Of course, and my very serious thing is, well, I'll get right to the point." The woman leaned over on tented hands, a spark coming into her eyes, a smile hidden in the corner of her mouth. "I'm going to win so hugely that every one of you will need goggles. You'll be blinking in the dust of my pawn."
Laura chuckled as the teenagers argued about who would be partners with Dylan this time. Dylan. It fit.
"What are you smiling about?" Cal asked, folding his long legs under the table.
Laura gave herself a shake and blinked. "Oh. Nothing," she said, the press of the pillow in her back a reminder, like lingering sweetness after swallowing a bite of ice cream.
Cal slid a unique clay mug toward Laura. "You don't have to stop. I like it. I haven't seen you smile so genuinely in a long time."
His comment made her think about the past year. About why he hadn't seen her smile in a long time... and she found the weight of it dragging her down. This was supposed to be the happiest time of her life, but so far it had been the most painful. More painful than losing her parents, though she'd only been a baby herself when that happened. She rubbed a hand over her hard belly and leaned over her steaming cup. It smelled like herbs. "What is this?"
"Chamomile tea."
"Some caffeine would have been nice." Brought all the way back to reality, Laura felt so tired she knew if she leaned her head over on the table, she would fall asleep, right there, despite the noise of the Sorry! game nearby. And she feared her exhaustion came out in her tone.
Cal seemed to think over his words carefully. "But it's after noon and if you have caffeine, you'll be up all night long."
"I'm already up all night long. You would be too if there was a six-pound baby sitting on your bladder."
Cal raised a black eyebrow. Most women would find him
exceedingly attractive, a young Idris Elba. Even Laura had to admit he cut a striking figure now, his expensive tailored suit fitting his well-muscled body like silken sunshine. He was a stark contrast to her maternity leggings and baseball hat-clad self. But to her he would always be the guy whose back she had to rub in college as he puked into the toilet. The man who'd made a fool of himself streaking through the fountain at school on a dare from a woman who had no intention of saying yes to his proposal for a date. The man who took care of her in business as her manager and agent. Her best friend. Her righthand man. Cal.
"A thank you would have sufficed," he said with enough sass in his glance to convey his point.
Laura deserved that. Every time she opened her mouth lately, something bitter came out. It didn't matter who was speaking to her. An assistant. Cal. The doorman at her building. That was one of the reasons she needed to be here. Away. From everyone. So she could be toxic to just four walls and, hopefully, get it out of her system before the baby arrived. That, and the world—the public—needed a break from her. She couldn't take that break while staying in L.A., at the home of her show, or at her actual home in New York City. In both places, just living her daily life had become a public performance.
A cheer erupted from the table of teenagers, and Laura watched as Dylan stood, a red game piece in her fingers, her face full of pure joy as she shouted "Sorry!" and cackled.
Would she ever find that kind of joy again? Could she after what she'd just been through?
"Laura?" Cal reached out and took her hand. "If you want me to stay with you, I will. You're about to do one of the most challenging things you'll ever do. You should have some support."
"No." Her gaze snapped back to his dark eyes. She sighed, her shoulders dragging downward. "I have a midwife to help me. Plus, I need this time alone, and you need to keep working to fund your crazy spending habit. Did you find someone else to manage?"
"I've got a few irons in the fire. I'll be fine. It's you, social butterfly, that I'm worried about."
"This is a good opportunity for me," Laura said, voicing the thoughts she'd been working through for weeks. "I can stay inside and work on something that matters, without distractions."
"Good. Great. Whatever you do, just remember to—"
"Lie low. I know. Trust me. I won't be getting into any trouble up here. This is Nowhereville. No one's even recognized me yet."
"But it's only a matter of time until they do and, Laura, we can't have another incident in the press. Your career won't survive it. The network is already on the verge of letting you go, so you need to get a handle on your anger."
Laura folded her arms. It wasn't the first time she'd been scolded like a child in the past few weeks and that, arguably, made her angrier than people invading her privacy. And that made her pretty darn angry. This was part of the reason she wanted to chart her own path. She would be the leader. She would be the one who made creative decisions. She would decide how to promote her projects. And she wouldn't have to do anything that other people told her to do.
But until she figured out how to get her dream funded, she was going to have to play nice with the public and the network. "I will, Cal. Don't worry. Anyway. I have three weeks until the baby arrives. Three weeks of free time for the first time since... well... since I can remember. If I come up with some ideas do you think you can work your contacts and see if they'll bite?"
"You come up with something, and I'll see what I can do."
"Promise this time?"
"I promise."
"Good, because I'm getting sick of sappy soap operas."
"Do you think I can sneak a glance at my phone?" Cal peeked around him at the crowd of people. The Snuggery, as the café was called, was filled. And not one person had their phone out. It relaxed Laura. It made her feel like she was safe here in this cocooned spot. Safe from everyone's lenses. Maybe, in the tiny Catskill mountain town of Love Falls, she would get the chance to just be Laura again, rather than Laura Munro, soap star. Maybe this would be the place where she finally achieved what she'd been working so hard for over the years.
Laura pointed at the sign on the table depicting a phone with a big red slash through it. There had been a sign on the door as well. She shook her head, glad for the excuse. "Just sit with me for a bit. Enjoy the rest."
Anyone else would feel like their lives were falling apart in that moment. She'd lost the love of the public, and as a result she would probably lose her cushy job. Living in L.A. was out of the question, and even her apartment in New York had become an untenable situation.
It wasn't great.
But she couldn't help but think that this—the baby, the town, time to work on something new—was a fresh start for her. Maybe now, since her life was a pile of smoldering cinders, she could make the changes necessary for success. Finally, she had nothing left to lose.
CHAPTER TWO
THE WARMTH OF THE SNUGGERY greeted Dylan like a hug, followed closely by her best friend Skylar running to her and throwing her long arms around her in an actual hug. She kissed her on the cheek.
"You. Are a saint," she said, keeping hold of Dylan's shoulders as she pulled away. Her lips shimmered with a pinkish brown gloss. Dylan could feel its stickiness as she wiped the wet smooch off her cheek.
"What did I do now?" she asked, unwinding her scarf. She'd barely made it two steps into the cozy interior before Skylar had assaulted her. She usually made it farther. A feeling of darkness, which had been clawing at her all day, quieted under Skylar's bright smile. It always did, which is why Dylan kept coming back, even on days when she felt so exhausted she could barely stay standing.
"You fixed my espresso machine before work—no, don't deny it. You're the only one with a key and a bit of a brain for that stuff. Thank you, thank you, thank you." A new wet kiss on the cheek followed each expression of thanks.
Dylan wriggled out of her grasp. She couldn't help but smile as she took out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away the gloss. "If I knew you'd tackle me like an overgrown puppy, I might have slept in this morning."
"What do you say about an espresso as thanks?"
Dylan eased her aching body into the sapphire velour wingback next to the hearth where a fire roared. It was technically spring, the first week in April, but a biting cold lingered outside. Thankful for the coziness of Skylar's space, she peeled off her gloves and cap and held her hands up to the flames. Within seconds, the stress of the day, as well as the chill from the short walk from work, evaporated from her hands. "I'd rather a cup of tea, thanks."
"One perfect chai, coming up."
Dylan let her head fall back into the cradling arms of the chair and closed her eyes. It had been a hard day. The calls from skiing accidents had ended with the close of ski season, but Dylan could still barely keep up. It must have been a full moon or something, because it was much worse than a normal Thursday. Fragmented voices shot through her mind like souls in the river Styx. Bleeding from the head. Fallen and I can't get up. Lost my baby. Sobbing, sobbing, sobbing. I think he overdosed. I think she had a heart attack. Help me. Please help me. She had, perhaps, saved one woman, talking her husband through CPR until the ambulance arrived. But she'd lost others. And for some, she had no idea what happened, as the line cut off before she could discover their outcomes. It was hard work, her job as a 9-1-1 operator, and some days it took everything she had.
"I'm going to put this here for when you're ready," Skylar said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.
Dylan opened her eyes and tried to smile for her, to convince both of them that she was okay. "Thanks."
Skylar took the seat opposite Dylan. Her skin was the color of illuminated rich earth and she wore a T-shirt that fit her like couture, though Dylan would look like a scraggly teenager if she wore the same outfit. Her dreadlocked hair was pulled back in a thick ponytail. Skylar owned and operated everything at The Snuggery, but always had the time to sit with Dylan and talk with her, even when
Dylan didn't say much. She never seemed rushed. In fact, she'd created an oasis in the middle of this busy world. She offered a place where people could press pause. Now, she narrowed her espresso-colored eyes at Dylan like she was trying to read her mind. "You need a vacation. I've got a friend who works at Kripalu, that yoga retreat in Western Massachusetts, and I can get you in—"
Dylan gave a brusque shake of the head. Yoga? Seriously? "No. I'm fine. Really."
"You look tired."
"Thanks."
Most people would have left it there, but not Sky. "As your friend, I feel like I should tell you that you have huge circles under your eyes and you're looking pale. And that hunch to your shoulders—a week at Kripalu would help you stretch it out. Yoga and meditation would be good for you."
"It was just a long day, that's all. And we just ended a long winter. How am I supposed to look? I'll be fine after I take a little catnap. Do you mind?" Dylan let her head drop back into nap position again.
"You've had more and more of those days lately, Dylan," Skylar said, persisting.
Dylan groaned, pulling her knees up and tucking them against the arm of the chair. Maybe if she remained like this, Skylar would tire and go away.
"Are you sure you want the Better Together kids to come tonight? I could cancel."
Dylan shot her legs to the ground and sat up straight. "Absolutely not. Those kids need tonight. I need tonight."
"But you also need to get out and have fun. Meet new people. Take up a hobby. Something. You can't keep giving and giving to everyone else without filling your cup. I mean, you work forty plus hours a week and help out here whenever you can and volunteer with those kids. Do you ever not work?"
Dylan grunted, picked up her mug, and wrapped her hands around it. The warm spices tickled her nose. She blew steam from the top and took a sip. The liquid warmed her from the inside out.
"I'm serious. I'm not leaving until we think of something for you to do. It can be anything. You know, Sandra left our crew team and we are down one for the season. You would be a good replacement. But you can do whatever you like. Knitting class, baking, going out on a date..."