by Dani McLean
“Do you think it means something? That I met her? We haven’t really talked about it.”
“Do you want it to mean something?”
Yes. “Maybe?”
It was more than I’d been able to admit out loud, clinging desperately to the lie that if I kept my feelings to myself, it would make them easier to forget. But this was Tiff. She was the one who held me together when Brad left. Who has had my back since we met. Who knew me better than anyone.
She was the last person I wanted to hide from. “I think I’m falling for him.”
If Tiff was surprised, I couldn’t tell. Maybe she already suspected. “You don’t sound too happy about that.”
I wasn’t.
I wanted to be. I wanted to be over the moon about it. And there were times where I could just about burst with how much I was feeling, but there was always a dark cloud attached. Like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or reality to kick in.
My only real experience with love had been Brad, whose particular brand of cynicism had made me question every opinion I had until I didn’t trust my instincts anymore. Until I’d relied on him.
It always started with an innocent, “are you sure?” Or a “trust me.” And I had. For a while, it had been nice. I felt looked after, like he had my best interests at heart.
But when I had stopped wanting to follow him, he got angry. Then he left. And I spent a year relearning who I was and what I wanted.
I wasn’t about to give that up again.
Somedays, I wanted to quit this wonderful job. Not enough to actually do it, but just enough that I would daydream about storming into David’s office and loudly announcing it.
To be fair, it wasn’t David who was making me miserable. It was this damn venue owner who just would not come to the table on this damn catering issue. He’d gone back and forth about agreeing to let us use our own at least three times since last Friday, and I wanted to scream. And it was only a Tuesday. It was going to be a hell of a long week.
I needed a holiday. Or a back rub.
I settled for some fresh air and a coffee from the shop down the street. It didn’t help. I knew I’d have to be back on the phone with the guy as soon as I got back in the office, but it was better than nothing.
On my way back, my phone buzzed, and it did more to allay my mood than the coffee ever could. Jackson was quickly becoming my own happiness drug, which was as exciting as it was daunting.
I just couldn’t seem to get enough of him. And for some unknown reason, he felt the same way about me. For however long this lasted, I was going to make the most of it.
It was relatively early by my standards when he knocked on my door that night. I had opened a bottle of wine as soon as I’d come home from work, utterly drained after going another round with the venue douche, as I’d come to call him, and I was near the end of my first glass when Jackson arrived.
It had only been two days since I’d last seen him, but damn, was he a sight for sore eyes.
And when he offered me that back rub I needed, I wondered how devastated I would be if—when—this all fell apart.
22
Jackson
Never say nothing happens on a Tuesday.
It was instinct now to check the number before answering my cell, even more so when it was an unknown number, but sometimes Bryson or Naomi had an assistant call if something was urgent. I wasn’t about to save everyone’s number on my phone, so I took the chance it was work-related and picked up.
“Jackson Ward.”
“Jackson, Addison Michaels.”
My thoughts short-circuited. Since I’d heard the news about the role, I’d been pestering Terry with ideas for how to get another audience with Addison. I’d reached out to anyone I thought might help, although most had said good luck in the kind of tone that did not instill confidence.
I tried not to sound too surprised. “Mr. Michaels, it’s good to hear from you.”
“Addison, please. I’m sure you know why I’m calling.”
Most likely to tell me to back off, but now that I had him on the phone, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity for one more pitch. “I heard you’d decided on someone for Parker.”
“I had. They didn’t work out, so I’m taking a chance on someone else. We would have formalized it sooner but working with the studio has been a circus. Still, we’re on track now, I hope. Filming is slated to start in the summer, so I’ll need an answer fairly soon.”
Well, that confirmed it. Straight from Addison’s mouth, the part was gone.
“Of course.”
“I must say, it’s been difficult to make a decision until now. There’s been a lot of interest in this role in particular. But I’m sure you were aware of that.”
“Yes, it’s been a badly kept secret.”
“As most things are in this industry.”
After another beat, I had the strange feeling he was waiting for me to say something like it was my line, but we were reading off two different scripts.
Addison slowly exhaled. “Jackson, why do you think I’ve called you?”
I decided to drop the charade. “Well, considering you’ve cast the role I wanted, I’m not really sure.”
Another sighed, and I could almost picture him pinching his nose in frustration. He likely thought me a complete idiot, and to be honest, right now, I would probably agree with him.
“I have cast the role of Parker. With you. That is if you’re still interested.”
“Absolutely.” I sounded as eager as I felt, and I did not give a damn.
“Good. It’ll be a three-month shoot, mostly on location, but with some studio work in New York. Now that we’ve spoken, I’ll start to work out the details with your agent.”
“Not a problem.” At some point, I should probably check that the scheduling wouldn’t conflict with the show, but for now, I was way too excited to think about silly little details. Terry could work them out anyway.
Shit, I had better call Terry. And Sarah. And Audrey.
“I’ll be honest, Jackson, I’m not one hundred percent convinced yet that you are Parker, but your insight into the character shows me you’re trying to understand him. It’s important to me to work with people who are invested in the material.”
“Thank you.”
He continued, voice firm. “I want you to know I’m not interested in stunt casting. This hasn’t anything to do with putting a hyper-masculine actor into a non-typical role. The truth of it is, you’re one of the only people to recognize that his journey has nothing to do with power or confidence or breaking away from his submissive needs. This is a story about trust and betrayal and how we can be pushed to act against our interests in the act of self-preservation.”
“I appreciate that.”
After telling Terry the good news, I texted Sarah, who congratulated me and agreed we’d celebrate at brunch on the weekend—although she very unsubtly added that I was welcome to postpone if I was going to be too busy “celebrating” with Audrey.
And I did plan on celebrating with Audrey, although I wasn’t about to get into that with Sarah.
The plan, as far as there was any sort of plan considering I didn’t know where the hell to start and was just making this up as I went along, was to do something special. Something outside of our normal dates, if you could call them that. Dinner would be a good start.
Unfortunately, I was ill-prepared to know where we could go that would offer us some semblance of privacy, but I was hoping Wes or Liv might have some options. Liv would likely be the better choice.
I came to set early to get in some time to practice with the bow, so It was fortuitous that Naomi said she’d seen Liv entering the gym.
Borrowing the gear from Felix, I made my way there, but as I entered, it was obvious no one else was expecting me here this early because I found Olivia and Bryson kissing against a stack of foam blocks lining the wall.
Stunned, a choked sound escaped me, and they tore apa
rt.
Forced to awkwardly back out of the room, I grasped the bow and arrows in a death grip until I remembered I was meant to be gentle with them and loosened my hold.
As I was debating my next move, Bryson exited the room, brushing past me with a curt nod and nothing else, although I suspected that a conversation would come later.
Tentatively, I stepped back into the gym and found Liv waiting, hesitant.
“So …” I had no idea how to end this sentence. I wanted to lighten the mood with a joke, but I genuinely couldn’t think of one. It would be easy enough to pretend I hadn’t seen them. My surprise aside, it wasn’t uncommon to come across in our line of work. And I could hardly judge two consenting adults from doing whatever they wanted to do.
Liv, I should have known, was not one for holding back. “Yes, we’re together, and no, we’re not telling anyone. Please don’t say anything.” She pleaded.
“How long have you two …”
“About six months.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
She laughed. “That was kind of the point.”
“Right. Yeah, of course.”
She started pacing. “Shit. After Wes saw us the other week, I told Bryson we needed to be more careful. Can you just promise me you won’t tell anyone else?”
I step into her way, doing my best to calm her. “Liv, I promise I won’t say anything. To anyone. It’s none of my business.” Her lips curled into a small, relieved smile while I was still processing the image of her and Bryson together. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you two even got along.”
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “We just fit together; I don’t know how else to explain it. He gets me. And it made me realize what I wanted in a relationship. I wanted someone who was in the industry. That’s why I was dating actors all the time, but it wasn’t working, and honestly, I couldn’t figure out why for the longest time. I kept thinking it was just that we were apart all the time. Then after we dated, I realized it wasn’t enough. Just being around didn’t solve everything. It helped, but it was too much and not enough. I wanted someone on the same level as me work-wise.” She stopped herself, reaching out to me. “Not that you’re not … I just wanted someone who could talk to me for hours about direction beats and dialogue and staging. I want to be a director someday, and I thought dating one would be a disaster. You know how most of them are.”
I couldn’t help an amused chuckle. I knew exactly how most of them were.
“And I thought hell would freeze over before I dated Bryson, but things just happened, and now I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“And what about you?” Liv asked. “You’ve been awfully chipper recently. Wes mentioned you might be seeing someone yourself.”
“I am. She’s pretty amazing.”
“Would I know her?”
“No, she’s not an actress or anything.”
“Not your usual type, then.” Liv joked.
“No,” I said, and the expression on my face must say enough because Liv replied, “Does she know how you feel?”
“She will.” And I remembered why I was looking for Liv in the first place. “Actually, I was hoping you could help with that. I want to do something special. Do you know any good restaurants where we might not get spotted?”
“You think Bryson and I get to go out on dates?”
“Good point.”
“We just make the most of what we have right now. A few weeks ago, I came over to find he’d moved all the furniture around in his lounge so we could have a picnic. It was probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Maybe you could try something like that. The thing is, Jackson, most people want the same thing in relationships,”
“And what’s that?”
“Someone who cares.” Her eyes shifted to the door Bryson had left through earlier. “The rest you just figure out together.”
“Thanks, Liv.”
We shared a hug before Liv excused herself, and I made use of the gym's privacy to call Audrey, a plan forming.
Dialing Audrey’s number was exciting beyond just my good news because I’d decided it was time to acknowledge what we’d both been avoiding.
“Hey, you.”
Her voice was like a shot of whiskey on a cold night, comfort and warmth, and I was helpless to fight off the effect she had on me.
“Morning, beautiful. I wanted to know if you’re free for dinner tonight.”
“Is this leading up to a joke about skipping the main and getting straight to dessert? Because I’ve heard that one before.”
I was giddy at the sound of her laughter, and I steadied myself with a deep breath, redirecting my nervous energy into the foot that was currently tapping on the floor. “It isn’t, but I’ll remember that for next time. Can you get to mine by eight?”
23
Jackson
I left the lot as soon as I was able that evening, in a rush to gather ingredients, even though I hadn’t decided on what to cook. I wanted something impressive, but I hadn’t left myself with a lot of time, not if I also wanted to shower and change, which wasn’t a question.
In the end, I decided to throw together a pasta, one of my dad’s favorite recipes, and focused on dressing my apartment up a bit. On a whim, I’d picked up some tulips at the grocers, and they now sat pride of place on the table in an old canister I’d found at the back of the pantry.
I’d even managed to locate some tea lights in the back of the bathroom cupboard. I really should take the time to explore my apartment more.
Thankfully, all my effort wouldn’t go to waste. Audrey had reconfirmed earlier that she was still coming since she’d postponed two other times this last week for work. It was hard to see her slaving away without being able to help. I knew how much the launch meant to her, and if there was some way I could …
Huh. There was a thought.
I opened up Instagram on my phone and took a quick shot of the bottle of MacMillan rum Audrey had given me. Due to the show’s younger fanbase, I tended not to share much in terms of alcohol, but this was for a good cause.
Adding a praise emoji and a drink responsibly hashtag, I threw it up on my stories. It’ll only be up for twenty-four hours, but I was sure that would be enough, and I liked being able to show support for Audrey’s work.
Pocketing my phone, I looked over my haphazard attempt at a romantic setup. I hoped it played as more romantic than silly.
Luckily, it was too late to second guess it because the buzzer went, signaling Audrey was on her way up.
Fingers crossed, I didn’t fuck this all the way up.
She was a vision when I opened the door, silencing my thoughts and damn near stopping my heart.
A black silk skirt hugged the soft curve of her waist to her thighs, the material skimming her mid-calf. On top, a soft black t-shirt was knotted at the small of her waist, its short sleeves showing off the galaxy of freckles that dotted her milky skin.
I was so enamored; it took me a minute to realize the print on her shirt was the show’s logo.
“What do you think? Too fan-girly?” she said, motioning to the shirt.
And all I was able to do was shake my head in response. The overwhelming need to have this woman overrode my every other thought.
Nothing was cooked yet; maybe we could just skip straight to dessert for a while.
She stepped in and kissed my cheek. “Hi, handsome.” Her hair, loosely curled today, tickled my nose before she pulled back, the smell of her shampoo lingering in its wake. “Mmm.” She appraised me, one hand molding to my bicep, the heat of her hand searing through the thin material of my shirt. “You look good tonight.”
I slid a hand to her neck, caressing the line of her jaw with my thumb. “You look good every night.” Then I leaned in to capture those perfect pink lips with mine.
Her hands slipped around my neck, and I felt her weight shift as the door closed b
ehind her. She pushed forward, closer, her nails lightly scratching my scalp, causing heat to race through me, and I gripped her hips closer.
Then she kissed along my jaw. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I even wore something extra special.”
Ever since our first night together, Audrey had been getting progressively more confident in herself, in her sexuality. I didn’t know what I did to deserve her, but I was damn thankful that it was me she wanted to share this with.
Just as she was nibbling on my ear and arching into me, I remembered that I wanted tonight to be more than just sex, and reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, I pulled away.
“Come on. I’m just about to make us dinner.”
“Oh? You were serious?” I took her hand and guided her around the sofa to the dining table. “Wow.” The word was quiet, merely a breath. It gave nothing away, and I was dying to know what she was thinking, but also a little scared of it, too.
“What is all this?” she asked, still facing the table, no doubt taking in the flowers, candles, everything.
“I got some good news today and thought we could celebrate.”
“Jace …” her voice hopeful, yet tentative. “This is incredible.” Her hold tightened in mine, and the nerves settled within me.
“Don’t speak too soon. You haven’t tried my cooking yet.”
When in doubt, push on and hope for the best. I moved into the kitchen, and Audrey settled down on a stool, eager to watch me work.
Ok, maybe my nerves weren’t completely gone. “I was just about to start dinner. I hope you like carbonara. It’s not as good as my dad’s, but it’s close, and I even managed to find proper guanciale, which is the only way to really have it.”
Her smile widened, a little too pleased with my rambling. “Sounds delicious.”
“Would you like some wine? I’ve got some bottles put away in that cabinet by the TV if you want to pick something. I have no idea if they are any good; most of them were gifts.”