Perfectly Scripted

by Christy Pastore

  More tears fell, and she stood there saying nothing. So I sipped my coffee.

  Then I blurted out, “Do you feel better, having gotten all of that off your chest?” Which interrupted the annoying river of tears cascading down her face.

  Wiping her cheeks, she replied, “Yes and no. I am glad I told you the truth, but I feel horrible that I lied to you. You were nothing but nice to me, Ronan, and I was a mess. I was so mad at you for dumping me. I lied to Grady and told him you were the one who got me hooked on booze and pills. I wanted to ruin your life. That’s why I fed Grady lies. I knew you two were enemies and he would see nothing but red.”

  I felt like a priest. This was one hell of a confessional.

  “That’s coldhearted, Heather.”

  She hung her head. “I know, and I am overwhelmed with guilt.”

  “You know you basically set in motion the downfall of Grady’s career and reputation with these lies. Thankfully, he’s been able to bounce back, for the most part.”

  “I am fully aware. He was first on my apology tour.”

  “Heather, as nice as apologies are”—I lifted an eyebrow—“and warranted, I really think you need to consider getting some help. True help. Not the kind where you half-ass it, either. The full sixty days.”

  She nodded, tugging at the hem of her dress. “I will. I promise. I’m really sorry, Ronan. I do plan to turn my life around. Grady is helping me to do that.” She came towards me, giving me a hug.

  “I believe that you will.”

  Then she left my trailer, and I watched her cross the lot to hair and makeup. I truly hoped she would find peace and get the help she needed.

  My iPhone vibrated on my desktop.

  HOLLIDAY: Good morning, handsome. I love you. Kick ass today. I’m counting the hours until I see you tomorrow. I won’t be able to think of anything else.

  I knew that feeling all too well.

  Emma and Dax had dropped Leah and Jade off before dinner and then headed out to attend an event for a special Flashback Friday screening of Time Bomb at the New York Theater Society. After an exhausting day, I put the girls to bed. It was nearly eight in the evening when I decided to put the kettle on to make some tea. My phone vibrated with a message from Dean letting me know that he was on his way up. I shoved my phone in my pocket and met Dean outside the door to my study.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, my mind fearing the worst. “Is Holliday okay?”

  “She’s fine.” He smiled. “This is regarding another matter.”

  “Should I pour a strong drink?”

  Ignoring my question, he went straight to business. “It seems that Derek Saunders has been taken into custody. Apparently, the FBI received a tip and they swept his home in Los Angeles, finding substantial evidence to bring him up on charges.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Really?” I asked, my mind swirling with questions. “What are the offenses?”

  “Prostitution and conspiracy to commit extortion,” he said. “They may have found illegal substances in his residence here in the city as well.”

  After all of my scheming and the pain I’d put Holliday through, it seemed that karma had intervened in the end.

  He handed me a manila envelope containing a file on Holliday, several pictures, and a zip drive. A note in red ink said: Originals. All Copies Have Been Destroyed.

  My eyes met his as I handed the folder back to him. “This will be taken care of?”

  “I assure you, it will,” he answered.

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

  “You are quite welcome.” He nodded before walking towards the door.

  “Dean, one more thing” I waited until he was facing me again. “Has this information hit the tabloids yet?”

  “No sir,” he answered, clearing his throat. “I received a message from one of my contacts at the FBI.” A small smile tugged the corners of his mouth.

  “I guess it’s good to have people on the inside.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. Enjoy your evening.”

  I’d known Dean Winters for many years, and I’d thought I had known almost everything about him. But I did not want to know any further details about this. I was, however, going to give him a raise.

  “Are you finally going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

  “Not a chance, my beauty.”

  She pretended to pout. “No fair. At least you let me know the dress code for this Saturday night affair.”

  “Trust me. If I had my way, you wouldn’t be wearing anything and we most certainly wouldn’t be eating.” I smirked. “Well, not food, anyway.”

  Her musical laugh floated through the air as she pulled at the hem of her mint-colored skirt. God, she was beautiful. The moonlight bounced off her glossy, dark hair, passing over her lips, which were slicked with a deep shade of pink. I fought the urge to kiss her at every stoplight.

  “Mr. Connolly,” Blake said, his voice crackling through the speaker of the limo. “We will be arriving at the location in about five minutes.”

  “Thank you, Blake.”

  Tonight, I was taking Holliday to a restaurant owned by my friend, Alexandre Masson, called Saffron. We were going to have a four-course meal, but in a very unique way.

  The limo came to a stop outside the Ironwood Building, a newly renovated space I’d happened to broker the deal for. Then we took the elevator to the top floor and were immediately greeted by Alexandre himself.

  “Holliday, this is Alexandre Masson,” I said, motioning to him.

  They exchanged pleasantries, and we were led to a private room with a terrace overlooking the Hudson River. The room was lined with walls of wine, incredible handstitched leather chairs imported from London, and a stunning brass chandelier.

  We selected a bottle of red wine, and I swirled the contents before taking a drink. With a nod, I let the server know that it was perfect, and he poured a glass for Holliday.

  “Miss Prescott, has Ronan explained to you your dining experience for the evening?”

  Her lips twisted upward, and her eyebrows scrunched together. “No, he has not.”

  I laughed at her growing curiosity.

  Alexandre shot me a knowing glance. “Very well. I shall the leave two of you to discuss,” he said, bowing slightly and then exiting the room.

  She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So, Connolly, care to tell me what this is all about?”

  I nodded, sampling more of the wine. “Four courses of the most impeccable French cuisine you’ve ever tasted, but with a twist. For our appetizer, we will be eating in the dark. Blackout shades will come down, allowing us to dine surrounded by total darkness. I’ll feed you, and you can feed me. No talking, we’ll have to find a way to tell each other if we like what we’ve tasted or not.”

  “I see. It’s about trust,” she replied.

  I smiled. “Course two: our salads. The lights will come up, but we will eat in silence. We can communicate with each other, but without talking.”

  “Ah, a communication lesson.” She smiled brightly. “I knew you were clever, but this is impressive.”

  “For the entrée, the tables will be turned and we won’t be able to look at one another or speak. Finally, we will enjoy our dessert together, discussing anything and everything we can remember about the meal.”

  She eyed me suspiciously over the rim of her wine glass. “This is a very interesting way to eat dinner. It’s like trust falls with food.”

  “More than that, it’s an experience.”

  “All right, Connolly. I’m up for the challenge,” she said with a clink of her glass to mine. “Let’s do this.”

  After dinner, Holliday and I enjoyed our drinks and talked through dessert.

  “You pinched me pretty hard, during the appetizer,” I remarked, rubbing the reddened skin on my forearm.

  “It serves you right for trying to make me eat frog legs.”

  “How did you know they were frog legs?” />
  She scrunched her face and stuck out her tongue. “What else in French cuisine is shaped like that and on a bone?”

  I tried to think of another French appetizer that possessed those qualities, but my mind was blank. The only thing I could seem to focus on, though, was Holliday and getting us back on track. I swallowed my emotions, along with the drink I was currently nursing.

  “I suppose that is true enough.”

  “I think this custard tart has effectively erased the appetizer portion from my mind,” she said before taking another bite. “It’s delizioso.”

  These were the moments I cherished, the conversations. It was easy to talk to Holliday. It reminded me of the nights we had spent getting to know one another at The York. Not being able to speak, to touch, or to even look at her during dinner was difficult. Surrounded by darkness and silence, this evening was a chilling view of what my life would be like without Holliday.

  There was no way I was going to be a fool and let this woman that I had been so fucking lucky to find, slip away from me. I’d give her anything I could. There would be no fear or doubt where the subject of us was concerned.

  Holliday stood, and pointed towards the windows. “Can we continue this evening on the terrace?”

  “Absolutely.” My hand brushed the small of her back, leading her to the door.

  “Oh I forgot to mention, Emma called me the other day.”

  “What did she want?” I asked, sliding into a chair.

  “That’s the thing, she didn’t want anything. Just to talk, and apologize for her rude behavior over the last few months.”

  “Well, that’s progress. We’ve had a few nice chats recently. Emma had hand-delivered her “save the date” invite when she dropped off the girls last evening.”

  “Oh, I missed the girls last night?” Her smile faded.

  Her expression said more than her words. I needed to drive this conversation in a different direction. There were far too many things to talk about. Not the most pleasant of items, but I started with Heather’s confession that she hadn’t been pregnant with my baby—or any baby. And about how she had used Grady.

  Her face twisted, as if she’d witnessed a horrific accident. “Who would do something so vile?”

  It was a rhetorical question, so I shrugged.

  “I’m so sorry, Ronan,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “Do you think she and Grady will stay together?”

  The question had crossed my mind as well. On one hand, I thought Grady should run for the fucking hills. But, then again, if he serves as positive support for her, maybe they should remain together.

  “She said he was helping her to get her life back on track, but I don’t know.”

  “As long as she is getting better, that is really all that matters.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  On the ride back to The Addison, we talked about Derek’s arrest, and I told her everything I knew. News had spread across social media late last night, and today, it had hit all the papers and news outlets. I confessed that I had nothing to do with it and suspected that Dean could have, but I truly wasn’t sure.

  “I believe you,” she said, taking my hand in hers “Remind me never to cross Dean.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I replied before helping her step out of the car.

  As the limo left us at the private entrance, we stood barely a foot a part. My throat tightened at the thought of her leaving. Christ, I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to her stay the night with me—better yet, move home. This was her home— our home—and it wasn’t a home without her.

  I took a slow, deep breath. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “Yes. Thank you for a lovely evening. It’s one I won’t forget.”

  “Stay with me,” I whispered, taking her face in my hands. The pads of my thumbs stroked across her cheeks.

  She gazed on me with heavy-lidded eyes.

  “I don’t think I can take another night being away from you,” I confessed. “I had a dream that you were standing at the top of a set of stairs. You looked beautiful, like an angel. The sunlight was shining behind you. The breeze was tousling your hair. I climbed higher and higher to reach you. Every step I took, I couldn’t get to you. My legs were heavy, and I looked down and there was a wooden sign around my neck with the word trust etched in the grain. No matter how high I climbed, you were always just out of reach.” I placed my hand over her heart. “It was my penance for breaking your trust and your heart.”

  “Oh, Ronan.” Her voice was barely a whisper as tears slid down her face. “The albatross. You were thinking about the poem.”

  “I was afraid you’d get used to your daily routine without me and it would be so easy for you to slip away. You’d decide this life wasn’t what you wanted.” My chest ached and tightened at the thought of her not being in my life.

  “No,” she sobbed. “I want this life with you. We just lost our way for a little while. I’ll never be out of reach. I love you.”

  “I love you,” I breathed. “Please, say you’ll stay the night. I want to ask you to move home, but if it’s too much—”

  “I want that too, Ronan. More than anything.”

  Desperate for her, I sealed my mouth over hers. I kissed her, sliding my tongue with hers, my hands tugging her hair.

  “Get a room!”

  The stranger’s cackling voice broke through our kisses. We both laughed at the realization we were still standing on the steps of the building.

  “I’d like to take you home now.”

  “I’d really like that.”

  “Be prepared, because once I get you in bed, I may not let you go.”

  Her eyes, wet with tears, shined brightly. “I’m perfectly fine with that too.”

  Holliday

  Four Months Later

  “Holliday, hurry up or we’ll be late for the party!” Ronan called from downstairs.

  “I’m trying!” I shouted back, staring at my shoe collection. “I can’t find my black Jimmy Choos.”

  “Try under the ottoman in the den.”

  I tapped my fingers against my forehead. Then I padded on bare feet towards the den, bending down to find them right where Ronan had said they’d be. After scooping them up, I raced down the stairs to find him waiting for me with my clutch and my coat in hand.

  I slid on my heels. “They can’t start the party without me. I’m the guest of honor.”

  “That’s true,” he said, before kissing my cheek. “Then I guess it will be okay that we’re ten minutes late.”

  My palms smoothed down his navy bespoke suit and drifted up the fine wool fabric to straighten his tie. “I suddenly remembered why I couldn’t find my heels, so whatever you’re thinking, put it out of your mind.”

  “Fine. But I don’t think you realize how absolutely sexy you look in that dress.” He smiled his green eyes dazzling.

  I spun around, giving him a full view of my dress. It was a black, sleeveless, drop-waist shift dress with an open back and glittering beadwork at the neck and hemlines.

  “You look so hot, especially when you wear a suit.” I grazed my teeth over my bottom lip. “They call it ‘suit porn’ for a reason.”

  He laughed and gave me wink. “Happy twenty-seventh birthday,” he said, reaching for a box on the credenza.

  He presented the gift to me, and without hesitation, I traded him my clutch for the shiny package. “Oh, my first birthday gift.” I tore at the bow and ripped the paper off. Upon lifting the lid, I pulled the glass bottle out. It smelled heavenly, like a spring garden after a gentle rain shower. Sweet pea and freesia came to mind. The square bottle had silver, round top and a black ribbon wrapped under the cap.

  “What’s this?” I asked, feeling my cheeks warm at the sight of Ronan’s affectionate name for me etched in glass.

  “That is a fragrance I had my sister, Molly, create especially for you. I know that you aren’t supposed to bott
le up your feelings, but I did in a sort of way. This fragrance is every bit as sweet as you. It’s also intoxicating and lovely, just like you.”

  “Oh, Ronan, this is the most thoughtful gift,” I said, lifting the cap to inhale the sweet mixture.

  “If you don’t like it, she will keep working on it to make it absolutely perfect.”

  “It’s perfect, truly. I love it.”

  “Really?” he asked, dipping his head to meet my gaze.

  Wracked with emotion, I looked up at Ronan, my eyes welled with tears. “Thank you for this. I love you.”

  “Don’t cry, please,” he said, pulling me close.

  “These are happy tears.” I hadn’t thought it was possible to love Ronan more than I did, but he kept proving me wrong. “You are so getting laid tonight.”

  “Good to know. I was feeling particularly lucky today.”

  “I actually have a gift for you as well.”

  Leaning against the wall, he smirked. “You just said I was getting laid. What more could I possibly need? Besides, it’s your birthday, not mine.”

  “Next Friday will be the end of an era.”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “I’m leaving Ricchetti Designs, and I’d like to become involved with the Connolly Campaign if you’d still like that.”

  His entire face lit up. “Of course, I’d love that. How does Charlotte feel about you leaving?”

  “Well, she’s thrilled for me because I’ve decided to start my own company. I will still consult for Ricchetti Designs, but I won’t be involved in the day-to-day operations.”

  “You’re starting your own company?”

  “Yes. PR and event coordinating.”

  “That’s wonderful news. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Plus,” I said, moving closer to him, “it will give me more time to spend with you. I’m the boss, so I make my own schedule.”

  “I do like the sound of that.”

  My phone vibrated in my clutch. The screen flashed a message from Charlotte wondering where I was.

  I hit reply and told her that we were fifteen minutes away. He lifted his eyebrow, giving me that smirk I found so irresistible.