by Kelly Oram
Ana’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”
I took a breath and met her eyes. “Do you think I should do it?”
Her eyes bulged to their limits this time, and her jaw went slack. “You’re asking me? Why would you care what I think?”
I shrugged. “Because you won’t hold back. You won’t tell me what you think I want to hear. You won’t lie and say everything will be easy, and wonderful, and perfect. You won’t sit there and say that I’m so beautiful and it’s the opportunity of a lifetime.” I smirked and added, “You won’t just say I should do whatever I want, either. I know you’ll have an opinion, and I know you’ll have your reasons for it. I want to know what they are. Please?”
Ana watched me for a moment, considering my words and whether or not I really meant them. She had an opinion, all right—a strong one—and she was trying to decide if I really wanted to hear it. Determination flashed in her eyes, and she sat up straight, pulling her shoulders back. She’d just decided to tell me whether I wanted the truth or not.
“Fine. I think you should do it.”
I wasn’t as surprised by that answer as I thought I’d be. She’d sided with her mom the night we first heard Erik Clarke’s interview. I matched her resolve, lifting my chin a little and taking a breath. “Okay. Why?”
“Because you need to.”
Okay, now I was surprised. Ana read the confusion in my expression and shook her head. “You are the most stubborn, confident, bravest person I’ve ever met.”
I’d tried for a poker face but just couldn’t manage one. Ana ignored my shock. I think she’d expected it. “You have it together in every aspect of your life, except where it comes to your scars. You’re terrified of them. You’re scared of what people think of them.”
She had a point. Even just hearing her say it out loud like that had my heart racing. “With good reason,” I mumbled.
Ana shrugged, unwilling to accept the excuse. “You say whatever you want on your blog. You rip books and movies apart, knowing there will be people who think you’re an idiot for your opinions. You don’t care. You don’t care what anyone says or thinks about you. It’s not what other people think of your scars that makes them so crippling to you. It’s what you think about them. It’s what you think about yourself.”
When I realized my mouth was hanging open, I snapped it shut. I’d never thought about it quite like that before, but Ana was right. In every aspect of my life, I didn’t care one iota about what people thought of me. Except my scars. And my limp. When it came to my physical disabilities, I was different. I was weak.
“You’re confident to the point of arrogance,” Ana continued, “with your thoughts and opinions on just about anything. That’s why you can hold your own in a relationship with a guy like Brian. The two of you are equally matched. In every aspect except physical appearance. You have no self-esteem there at all.”
Again, she was right. I probably was my own worst critic when it came to my physical appearance and capabilities. Every horrible thing I’d ever heard anyone say about me was nothing worse than the things I’d already thought of myself. Maybe that’s why they hurt so badly. Because I believed they were true.
“It’s holding you back,” Ana said.
I frowned, confused, and Ana shrugged. “You have Brian freaking Oliver worshiping the ground you walk on and sleeping in your bed at night. I bet you’ve never taken your clothes off for him. I bet he’s never seen all of your scars. I bet you’ve never let him touch them.”
I blushed and glanced toward the dining room. To my horror, the conversation around the dining table had fallen silent. They were giving Ana and me our space, but the whole room was listening intently to this conversation.
My stomach rolled, and I considered running to my room and testing out my brand-new bed, but I’d asked Ana for her opinion, and I’d said I wanted it because she’d tell me things even if I didn’t want to hear them. I definitely didn’t want to hear this, but I’d made my bed and now I was stuck in it. The best I could do was take a few deep breaths and force the bile to stay in my stomach.
“No,” I whispered, because Ana seemed to be waiting for an answer, even though she already knew the truth. “I haven’t done any of that.” I tried to defend myself. “I’m just not ready. It’s not because—”
“Oh, please.” Ana rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re a scared little virgin, for sure. But it’s not your shyness that’s holding you back. That’s just the excuse you’re using to lie to yourself about what the real problem is.”
I stiffened. That was the first harsh statement that made me remember I was talking to Ana. It was blunt, abrasive, and cold. But was it the truth? She wasn’t being malicious right now; she was just being honest.
“Prudes get over themselves pretty quickly when they find the right person. Brian is your one. You love him, and you have no doubt that he loves you, too. You’ve been living together for over a month. If you haven’t gotten that far with him yet, it’s not modesty holding you back; it’s fear.”
She was right. As much as I hated to admit it, she was absolutely right. I wanted to be with Brian. I really, truly did. And sometimes when we kissed, I physically ached with the need for more. But I always held back.
“You need to take those pictures because you need to face your fear,” Ana said, bringing us back to the original topic. I’d completely forgotten all about Nash Wilson’s offer. “You’re the one judging yourself based on your looks,” she said. “And until you get over it, you’re never going to be ready for an intimate relationship. You’re going to hold yourself back, you’re going to keep yourself from Brian until he just can’t stand it anymore, and you’re going to drive a wedge between the two of you. You guys are a forever couple. If you don’t make it, it’ll be for this reason, and it’ll be your fault.”
It wasn’t until Ana finished her speech that insecurity washed over her. I was surprised to see it. Surprised that she cared whether or not she’d pushed me too far. Before, she wouldn’t have. Before, she probably would have reveled in the fact that I was frozen with emotion right now. That I was so overwhelmed by her words that I was too close to tears to even breathe.
Seeing the vulnerability on her face and the quick, nervous glance she shot toward Juliette and Brian in the kitchen, I realized she was doing the same thing I was. She was making an effort. Trying to find some kind of middle ground between us. Maybe we’d never be close the way Juliette and I are, but we didn’t have to be enemies anymore. I got the feeling that our entire relationship in the future depended on how I responded to this very moment. I’d given her a chance, asked her to be herself, and she’d stepped up to the challenge.
Inside, I was a wreck. Her lecture had gutted me. But I’d asked her for it, and I was grateful she’d had the guts to give it. “Thank you,” I mumbled. “I appreciate the honesty.”
I forced myself back into motion, reaching for a new card. I pulled the gift card out of it and set it on a stack with the others.
“You’re not going to do it, are you?” Ana asked. She was still watching me closely. “You’re not going to take his offer.”
I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not sure I can,” I admitted.
Ana seemed to accept this and turned her attention back to her own stack of mail. “For what it’s worth,” she said with a softness in her voice I didn’t know she was capable of, “I’m sure he’d make you look beautiful.”
The compliment hit me as hard as her lecture had, because it was equally as raw. I looked up, meeting her eyes, and had to swallow a giant lump in my throat before I could form any words. “Thanks.”
She continued to look at me, and though she didn’t smile, she nodded with 100 percent sincerity.
We both fell into silence after that and went back to our tasks. But the silence was comfortable now. Something had changed between us. We’d reached our middle ground. It was more than a truce. It
was acceptance of one another. It was a long time coming, and it was a nice feeling.
I risked a glance toward the dining room and found Juliette beaming at me with watery eyes. When our gazes met, her tears spilled onto her cheeks and she grinned as if she were so happy it was painful. It made me chuckle. But then I saw everyone else trying not to look at me and realized that things may have been good between Ana and me now, but everyone else was drowning in awkwardness.
I cleared my throat and forced some cheer into my voice as I said, “So, Rhett, I was wondering something the other day…”
Rhett, surprised to be singled out, glanced around the group before giving me a curious look. “About me?”
I smiled. “Yeah. See, I read Murder in Motown last week, and Brian mentioned you were playing the lead in the movie.”
The question broke the tension, and people slowly started to move again, throwing out their paper plates and napkins. Rhett wandered into the living room and found a seat on the floor near me. “Yeah, we wrapped on filming in December. It was great. I’m looking forward to the release.”
“Glad to hear it. How was it doing a romantic suspense instead of the normal action thrillers on your résumé? I’m sure you were great in the role; I’m just surprised. I was wondering what made you take the job?”
Rhett’s face lit up at the question, as if he were genuinely flattered by my interest. “Oh, well, actually, it happened because the author of the book had posted somewhere once that she’d always pictured me as her lead detective in this book. I guess her fans rallied behind her choice enough that the producers approached me first.” He shrugged with surprising modesty. “It was pretty flattering, so I read the script out of curiosity, and then I read the book out of curiosity, because I liked the script so much.” He grinned. “I’ve become a bit of a Janice Bishop fan since then.”
I laughed. “You and me both. I just found out on Christmas that my dad was a super fan of hers, so I read her new one out of curiosity as well. I’ve been making my way through all of her books since then. She’s good.”
Rhett beamed a proud smile at me. “The premiere is in a few weeks. I’ve got a few extra tickets to give away still. You and Brian should totally come. Bring your dad, too. Janice Bishop will be there. I’d be happy to introduce you.”
“Oh…” The mention of my father completely startled me. “Thanks, that’s really sweet of you, but…”
“We’ll totally take you up on that,” Brian said, joining the conversation. He didn’t mention my father at all, so I ignored it, too. It hurt too much to think about it.
“Cool. I’ll get your names on the list.”
Brian sat on the floor beside my legs, resting his back against the couch. He draped an arm over my lap and grinned at his friend. “Remember that thing I was telling you about for Ella’s blog? When I showed you the artwork I had drawn up?”
Rhett was holding a big box in his lap, eyeing it as if it were a Christmas present he was trying to guess the contents of. He lifted his eyes from the package to nod at Brian. “The Cinder and Ella adventures web series thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, why don’t you do me a favor and open that,” I interrupted, pointing at the box in Rhett’s hands. The curiosity was clearly driving him nuts. “See what’s inside.”
He winked at me and ripped off the brown packaging paper.
Brian picked up a box and opened it as well, while keeping up the discussion. “Your premiere would make a great first feature for The Adventures of Cinder & Ella. If you wouldn’t mind letting Ella and me interview you for a minute that night.”
Rhett laughed, but Jesse’s snort was even louder. “So that Ella could post it on her super blog to all of her five million subscribers? Pretty sure he’s not gonna mind. In fact,” Jesse shot me a devastating grin, “if you’re ever up for a real adventure, come visit me on my set sometime. I’m filming Maximum Force 3 right now. If you come on the right day, we’ll get you in some harnesses and let you feel an explosion.”
His enthusiasm for pyrotechnics was cute. And so predictable that I laughed. “As awesome as that sounds, I think my nurse and my physical therapist would both have aneurysms if I tried that.” When his face fell in disappointment, I said, “But we could totally blow up Brian. That could be fun.”
“Yeah, sounds like a real blast,” Brian said drily.
That got a good groan from everyone.
Jesse’s grin was back with full force. “It’s a date, mamacita. Don’t back out on me, either, because when I tell the studio I landed us a feature on Ellamara’s Words of Wisdom, they’re going to be kissing my ass the rest of production.”
I laughed again, but he wasn’t joking. The influence I now had on Hollywood was completely surreal. I glanced at Brian, and he shrugged his approval, so I nodded. “Okay, it’s a date,” I agreed.
“Ooh!” Brian realized what Rhett was holding in his hands and yanked it away from him. “An espresso machine. A nice one.” He grinned at me. “We’re totally keeping this.”
My father agreed to sign Juliette’s and Ana’s waivers to be on my web series under one condition—that I agreed to have dinner with him, just the two of us, so that we could talk. I didn’t want to do it, but one look at Juliette’s face and there was no way I could say no. I knew she was excited to be part of my video diary—and really she was such a big part of my life that it would be hard to work around her if she couldn’t get permission—but more than that, I knew she was hoping I’d make amends with my father.
Jules had always been pro family healing. She hated the rifts that had been caused since I’d arrived in her family’s life. After seeing how happy my smoothing things over with Ana had made her, I knew I needed to at least hear my dad out. Just once. But there was no way in hell I’d meet him alone. I told him I was bringing Brian with me and that he could take it or leave it. He’d agreed surprisingly easily, and, for some reason, that put me on guard even more.
Brian made reservations for a restaurant in Santa Monica that you weren’t supposed to be able to get reservations for less than a month in advance. But I suppose that’s what happens when the nation’s current most famous couple calls and asks if it’s possible to get a table for the evening. Magically, one always opens up.
Brian didn’t make the reservation to impress my father. He did it because the restaurant had a reputation for privacy and discretion. The situation had the potential to be tense, and neither of us wanted the drama with my father to get leaked to the media. I would have suggested he come talk to us at Brian’s house or my new apartment, but Brian said he and my father would both probably behave better if we were someplace public. Less chance of fighting then. It was sound logic.
“No wonder you picked this place,” I muttered after we were given an amazingly secluded table that was almost fully enclosed in its own little cove.
“We’ll have privacy,” Brian promised. He noticed my knee bouncing beneath the table and placed his hand on top of it. “Relax, Ella; it’ll be okay. He called you. Not the other way around. He’s not coming here to start another fight.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t,” I muttered.
“Hey.” Brian pulled me into his side and held me close. “If he does, we’ll just leave. And then we’ll know for the future not to meet with him again.”
I blew out a breath, trying to calm my pounding heart and twisting stomach. He was right. I no longer had to put up with my father. If I didn’t like what he had to say, I didn’t have to listen.
I stiffened when he arrived, and Brian removed his arm from around me to sit up straight. He took my hand beneath the table, though, and I laced our fingers together in a death grip. Assuming we made it to the actual act of eating dinner, he was going to have to eat one-handed because I wasn’t letting him go until my father was out of sight.
Dad murmured hello as he sat down across the table from us and nodded when the server who’d shown him to the table offered to
pour him a glass of wine. We all ordered dinner and then fell into a deafening silence. I was not going to speak first. This meeting had been at his request. If he wanted to talk, then he could talk. I’d only promised to listen.
When it was clear I wasn’t going to give him so much as a greeting, he sighed and said, “Thank you for coming.”
He looked pale and had dark circles beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept at all in the last six weeks. His wrinkles and few streaks of gray hair were more noticeable than normal, too. He’d had a rough month and a half since I’d left. Good.
“Ella…honey…”
My jaw clenched. Brian must have been watching me carefully, because he squeezed my hand once to lend support. It prompted me to release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“I’m sorry,” Dad murmured. He sighed and started twisting his napkin in his hands. “That doesn’t sound like enough.”
I shook my head, closing my eyes over a layer of moisture. “It isn’t enough,” I said. “Not this time.”
His face crumpled, and his entire body sagged with the weight of my words. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“I’m not sure there is anything else you can say. You’ve said it all already.” I steadied my voice and looked at him. “How many apologies have I received from you since moving into your home, Dad? They don’t mean anything to me anymore, because I know that even if they’re sincere, I’m just going to need another one in a few days, or weeks, or months.”
“Sweetheart, I’m doing the best I can.”
I shook my head in short, quick shakes that bordered on panic. “It’s not good enough. I can’t let you keep breaking my heart. One of these times it’s going to be so broken that even Brian won’t be able to glue it back together. You crushed me on Christmas. Permanently. I can’t just get over that. I can’t just accept your apology and pretend it never happened. Having you in my life, hurting me over and over and over again, kills me.”