The Fiction of Forever (A Stand By Me Novel Book 2)

by Brinda Berry

  “So we go inside and eat pizza. It doesn’t fix a thing.”

  “It keeps you from having to date a lot of other women. At least you know I’m on the same page as you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Desperate

  Current Day

  Kiley

  I wake to the sound of my dog’s gentle snores. I roll over in my bed and snuggle the furry head beside me in bed. Westley growls and moves away from me.

  Grump.

  I glance at my cell phone for the time and notice a series of missed text messages.

  Gunner: We need to talk.

  Gunner: What do I have to do to get a minute of your time?

  Gunner: Are you awake?

  Gunner: I guess not. I’m talking to myself. I hate text messages.

  Gunner: I hate the Internet. I hate not seeing you. I hate the fact that I’d like to beat Tony’s ass and you’d be so mad at me.

  Gunner: And my lawyer said not to

  Gunner: But I’ll do it anyway if you want me to

  Gunner: I’m stopping now. Shooting the breeze with myself has made me sleepy.

  The texts stopped over an hour ago. Still, my fingers hover over the keys. I’m tired and jealous and furious. Melanie flirted with him last night and he flirted back. It’s the whole point of Forever and that’s what makes me pull the pillow over my head. I sling it to the side when my cell beeps with an incoming text.

  Gunner: Please answer me.

  Kiley: Hi. Sorry I was asleep.

  The dots light up immediately indicating he’s typing back. My belly flips anxiously. It’s a silly schoolgirl reaction.

  I have a problem on my hands and should not be texting with the root of my problem.

  Gunner: Come over. I can’t come over there. The press or your dad will catch me.

  Kiley: A braver man would do it.

  The problem with texting is once you hit send, you can’t get the message back. I throw my arm over my eyes. Why would I act this way when it’s courting trouble?

  Gunner: Is that a challenge?

  Kiley: Absolutely not.

  Gunner: Putting on pants.

  Kiley: No threats

  Gunner: I will be in your front drive in 5 minutes

  Kiley: You’re crazy. Don’t do it.

  Gunner: Then come to my house.

  Kiley: There’s probably reporters in the bushes.

  Gunner: Good. I’m gonna step out naked and give them something to report.

  Kiley: Behave yourself.

  Gunner: I want to talk.

  Kiley: Being together in the tent got us in a lot of trouble.

  Gunner: Fuck in tent.

  Gunner: opps. Meant fuckin not fuck IN tent

  Kiley: Um…

  Gunner: I’m coming.

  Pause.

  Gunner: Over there.

  Gunner: I hate texts.

  Gunner: Is there a way to do this so everything doesn’t sound dirty?

  Gunner: Unless you like that

  Gunner: Kidding.

  The grin on my face hurts. How can he do that to me when I’m so mad? I hold the phone above my face in the dark, the cell phone’s light dim and comforting. His words on the screen connect me to him across the miles.

  Kiley: I’ll meet you to talk. Not your place.

  I don’t trust myself to be alone with him here. He’d be the perfect gentleman, I’m certain. But one heated look or word and I’d succumb to what I really want. One word about Melanie and I’ll cry.

  Gunner: Dastardly’s. I’ll ask Dane if we can go in early. I’ll text you the time after I ask him. There’s a party room in back.

  Gunner: I’ll buy you breakfast.

  As if he has to feed me. I’m pathetic.

  I jump from the bed, Westley grousing that I’ve disturbed him. In minutes, I’m dressed and ready to head out the door. Gunner’s text lets me know I have half an hour to meet him. When I walk downstairs, a light shines from the kitchen.

  “Kiley?”

  “Yeah Dad. It’s me.”

  “Where are you off to this early?”

  This is the problem with being an adult in my parent’s home. Finding an apartment needs to move higher on my list. “I’m having breakfast with a friend.”

  He studies me over the rim of his coffee cup. “You have a minute?”

  “Sure.” I walk over and grab a mug. It’s rare that he visits with me, always in a hurry to get to the next appointment and take care of the business he’s worked so hard to build. Every day—even Sundays—he goes to the studio, directing filming and edits. Forever isn’t the only show he produces.

  After making my coffee, I sit at the island bar across from him.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” He stares into his mug.

  “What about?”

  “Ratings. Viability of new show pilots in the works.”

  I gulp a mouthful of too hot coffee at the topic. “Ratings on Forever. The camera likes you. I should’ve known it would capture your grace and the sparkle you’ve had since you were a girl.”

  My face heats at his praise. “Thanks, Dad. But right now the tabloids—”

  “Our ratings are higher now than they’ve been since season one when we had that psychic who predicted the bachelor would marry a professional soccer player before we’d even begun the season.”

  “Oh.” I check my cell phone for the time.

  “Our audience loves you. It’s the damnedest thing. It’s why I’m upset.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “If the ratings were low, I could pull you from the show due to all this controversy. Redeem us so to speak. You could step forward and resign. You’d recover from this with a reputation that’s been salvaged. We could find another project for you. We’d choose another Matchmaker. Audience would tune in to see who replaced our bad girl.”

  I cringe at him calling me this. “Dad. Me and Gunner…I didn’t—”

  He holds up his hand. “Poor choice of words. Sorry. I don’t like to see my daughter’s name in the headlines like they are now. Contrary to what you might think, it’s not all about the show. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “I’m fine.” I walk to the sink and pour my coffee down the drain. With my back to him, I stare at nothing out the window. “The fact that you’ve been worried about me—about how I’m dealing with this—means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

  “You’re my daughter. How did you think I’d feel about it?”

  I turn and face him. “I don’t know. I really don’t. You don’t talk to me much. And when you do, it’s about the studio and shows and production schedules.”

  He gets to his feet and brings his coffee cup to the sink. “I know. I have to say something that I should’ve said years ago.” He pauses. The sounds of the kitchen amplify in the quiet. The refrigerator dumps ice into the bin. The clock on the far wall ticks.

  “I should’ve talked to you after your mother lost her mind and accused you—”

  I grip his forearm. “Dad, I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “You may not need to talk about it, but I do.”

  My skin flashes hot. I can’t do this. I can’t relive that year of drama. “Dad, please, let’s not.”

  He stands, probably seeing the panic I can’t contain. “Kiley, I’m sorry. I thought the counseling helped. I—”

  I give him a tight smile. “I have to be somewhere to meet a friend. I need to go. Can you please let Westley out and feed him?”

  In that moment, he’s not the man I know. His shoulders slump forward and with his hands on his hips, he looks at the floor and shakes his head. He’s inside there somewhere and as miserable as I am.

  “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

  I’ve never wondered how everything affected him or even if it did. I’d always assumed it was more of an embarrassment than something he was emotional about.

  I run through the house, the tears pricking behind my eyelids, m
y heart threatening to explode from emotions I’ve not felt for five years.

  In thirty minutes, I’m at Dastardly’s. I’m late and worried that Gunner has given up on me. When I enter through the front door of the restaurant, the lights are dimmed and tables empty. It’s obvious they aren’t open for business yet. Lights above the bar shine on glass surfaces. In the mirror, I see movement and turn to find it.

  “Hey,” Gunner says. His eyebrows dip. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “Nothing at all.” But I’m a liar. My throat cinches together and I can’t swallow or talk.

  He strides forward, meeting me in the center of the room within seconds. Without saying another word, he grabs my shoulders and pulls me into the warmth of his arms. “I thought you changed your mind.”

  I shake my head instead of answering. He lets me step back from his arms. I suck in a steadying breath. “So. Are you feeding me this morning or what?”

  My voice belongs to someone else. It’s sad and unsure. The voice of a girl from high school who couldn’t deal with betrayal.

  “Follow me.” Gunner leads the way and we walk through a winding corridor. “Here.” He pushes open a door to a room with a long table to seat at least twenty-five people. There’s a stage at the end.

  He hits a switch and low lights come on at the opposite end of the room. “Tell me what you want and I’ll go let the kitchen know. They’re not really open yet.”

  “Anything.”

  “Be right back.” He winks and pulls out a chair for me.

  I sit and wait for him to return. The privacy of the room lets me know I don’t have to be paranoid of someone with a cell phone taking photos or video. For the first time since talking to Dad, I relax.

  When Gunner returns, he sits opposite me at the end of the long table. “No one will bother us back here. A friend of mine works here and will bring our food when it’s ready.”

  “OK.” Sitting across from him intimidates me. I don’t know where to look besides him. I don’t have anything to do with my hands.

  He leans forward with both his elbows on the table putting him even closer to me. “Thank you for coming to meet me.”

  “Sure.” I pick up the rolled silverware and put it back down.

  He reaches a hand out and puts it on top of mine, stilling my nervous movements. “I have a hard time being open with people,” he says.

  I widen my eyes. “Isn’t that a guy thing?”

  He laughs in a low tone. “I’m pretty sure it’s a me thing.”

  “That’s not true. And maybe I shouldn’t be sexist. I can be closed off.”

  “OK. It’s not a contest. But I’m positive I’d win.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “Man, you’re competitive.” He looks up as the door opens.

  “Hi.” A girl dressed in jeans and a Dastardly Bastard’s T-shirt comes inside with a tray. “Here’s coffee and juice.”

  “Thanks, Harper,” Gunner says to her.

  The girl doesn’t even look at me while she places the drinks on the table. “I’ll be right back with the food and then you won’t be interrupted again.”

  She returns with the food exactly as she’s said she would. I dive into my pancakes to avoid conversation.

  “Do you forgive me for the whole camping thing?” he asks.

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know better. I do. Plus, I tricked you with it being a date for the show.”

  He drizzles syrup over his pancake stack. “I still had a good time.”

  “You said you wanted to talk. Are we rehashing this whole thing about the camping trip?”

  “No. I need a favor.”

  I eye him and the way he licks his lips between bites of food. “What’s that?” I ask around a bite of pancake.

  “This Saturday. I have to go somewhere. I don’t want to go alone.”

  “You want your date night to be Saturday instead of the Friday night on the schedule?”

  “No. I have a wedding to attend. I don’t want anything filmed. I don’t want a stranger to go with me. I want you to go.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “It would mean a lot to me.”

  “You have to give me a little more than that.” I shake my head. “Why do you need me? You could ask Melanie.”

  “Why do you have to be so stubborn? Melanie and I are giving the audience and social media what they want. Nothing more. Aren’t you glad to have the heat off you?”

  “Whose wedding?”

  He spends a few minutes taking slow bites and looking at the wall. When his gaze returns to me, he looks torn about his next words. Finally, he says, “It’s my stepsister.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I didn’t remember you having a sister.”

  “Stepsister,” he clarifies as if there’s a huge difference. “My dad married Veronica’s mom when I moved to Arkansas. We were close. Now she lives in St. Louis. Please. Go with me.”

  “We have a taping tomorrow. You have to choose to keep dating Melanie or ask me for the next contender.”

  “Yeah. I already know what I’m going to say.”

  “Let me guess. You’re going to ask for someone new because you can’t stand Melanie and you’re so sure that I can’t find the right person.”

  “I want Melanie,” he says.

  I dig my fingernails into the tops of my thighs. In one way, I should expect the unexpected with Gunner. But my world tilts at the thought of him being attracted to her.

  “That’s wonderful.” I resurrect the pageant smile.

  “And you’ll go with me to my stepsister’s wedding? As a friend to support me?”

  I nod slowly. “I will.”

  “Don’t sound so happy about it.”

  I stab a piece of sausage. “I’m thrilled. I love going to weddings. That’s my job. To hook-up people who end up walking down the aisle.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tenderness

  Current Day

  Gunner

  “Is there a reason we’re meeting in the airport parking garage? We’re driving, not flying,” I say. I grab Kiley’s overnight bag from the bag seat.

  “So I can leave my car without the paparazzi noticing. See how empty it is?”

  “You don’t come here alone do you?”

  The corners of her mouth tip down. “All the time when I fly.”

  “It looks dangerous.” I open the rear door on my Jeep and place her bag inside. “You have any mace?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” she says.

  I rest my hand on the small of her back while opening the passenger door for her. “I’m serious.”

  “I go places all the time.”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I close the door behind her and jog around to my side.

  We pull out of the secured parking garage and drive toward the interstate. It’s early enough on a Saturday morning that there’s not much traffic.

  I glance at Kiley. “I appreciate this.”

  Her brow crinkles. “It’s no problem. I really do love weddings. Did you get along with your stepsister? What was her name?”

  “Veronica and yes,” he says.

  “What about your stepmom?”

  “What about her?”

  “Did you like her as much as your stepsister?”

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t much to like or dislike.” I loosen my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

  “I always wanted a sister.”

  “Veronica’s special. Good and sweet. She never deserved the shit life that her mom gave her.”

  My protests sound extreme even to my own ears. The silence continues for several miles.

  “What about you?” I ask. “Do you see your mom?”

  Kiley tenses, her rigid posture indicating I’ve hit a nerve I should avoid like a buried gas line.

  She doesn’t answer.

  “It’s not important,” I say, not sure how to salvage the ten
uous friendship we have. Kiley coming with me is so much more that I’d expected. I’d been sure she’d say no.

  “No. I don’t see her.”

  “Hm.” I rest a finger on the stereo button. “Music?”

  “No.”

  I drop my hand. “I’m going to stop for fuel. Want a drink?”

  “My mom thinks I slept with her husband,” she blurts out. “So, we don’t talk. She’s not part of my life anymore.”

  Her confession surprises me and doesn’t. I didn’t think she’d tell me, even though I’d guessed as much from what Josie hinted.

  “I know that hurt you.” I reach over and place my hand on the edge of her seat. “I don’t know how it went down, but sometimes people do crazy things. Maybe someday your mother will apologize.”

  Kiley stares out the passenger window at the landscape. “I don’t know. I kind of think it made her feel better if she had a reason for her failing marriage.”

  “It sounds like you’re better off without her in your life.”

  “Mom is now on husband number five. I’ve never met him and don’t plan on it.”

  “Good. I like that plan.”

  She laughs at me. “Glad you approve. Thanks.”

  “So how does a girl who grows up with a serial divorcee end up believing in marriage and a show called Forever?”

  “Because I have to. There has to be more than my dad’s lonely existence and my mom’s desperate one.” She pauses and licks her lips. “I’m scared Gunner. Maybe I’ll never find it. Maybe I’m screwed up.”

  “No, you’re not. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “I want that feeling, the kind you don’t doubt. What if I don’t know what to look for?” Her voice wobbles at the end.

  She’s so afraid. I know how it is to want safety and love.

  “Hold my hand,” I say.