by Melody Grace
Ellie looked around. There were two mugs set on the counter, waiting for tea. Dash must have set them out, ready to bring me breakfast in bed. The thoughtful gesture hit her straight in the chest. She swallowed back a sob. How had this fallen apart so soon? Ten minutes it took for the water to boil, that was all it took for the dream to shatter and reality to rear its ugly head again.
She’d thought he was different.
How wrong could a girl be?
But this wasn’t the first time she’d believed a man really cared. It had happened before, with Ethan. He was using her too. She didn’t see that coming, and it turned out, she hadn’t learned her lesson yet. Why else would some big shot Hollywood director want to spend time with her?
But even as the doubts and betrayal swirled in Ellie’s mind, she still couldn’t accept this was all a lie. The things they’d shared… He’d opened up to her. Surely that wasn’t just for show.
She took another breath. There was still a chance they could save this. Still one last shot for him to make this right. Ellie slowly walked back out into the living room. He was still standing there, awkward in the middle of the room, looking too damn handsome in his underwear and her old robe.
Dash looked at her, and his expression seemed sincere. “What can I do to fix this?” he asked. “Tell me, there has to be a way to take some kind of time-out, just rewind back to when things were good between us. I didn’t mean for this to fuck things up, you have to believe me.”
“You can do one thing,” Ellie told him, feeling a strange calm take hold. “The script, I want you to delete it.”
Dash gaped. “I can’t do that!”
She paused. “Why not?”
“Because… It’s due in a week, the studio’s waiting. And it’s good,” he insisted. “If you’ll just read the rest—”
“There’s more?” Ellie interrupted.
He stopped. Looked away. “I’m nearly finished,” he admitted. “And it’s good. The best thing I’ve ever written.”
A chill settles over her. “So you’re using it for your movie. No matter what I say.”
“Ellie,” he pleaded. “Please, just think about this. It’s not the big deal you’re making it out to be.”
The sound of her name on his lips sounded wrong now somehow. Just that night, he’d groaned it aloud and she’d watched him come undone in her arms, but now it felt like they were strangers. Two people stranded on opposite sides of the room, with no way to bridge the divide.
The space he put there.
Ellie swallowed back tears. “It is a big deal—to me,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to be written about, but you’ve done it. And worse still is the version of me you’ve put on that page. That girl… I don’t like her. I don’t want to be her. And now she’s going to be up there on some movie screen for everyone to see, like that’s the truth.”
“You’re not Ally,” Dash insisted, but she couldn’t believe a word he said anymore.
“You won’t delete it?” she asked one final time. “Not even for me? Because I’m asking—begging you to?”
There was a long pause. Too long. Dash’s expression was torn, but just the fact he was even considering keeping his script told Ellie everything she needed to know.
She didn’t matter to him after all.
“Get out.”
Dash blinked. “What?”
“I said, leave. Please.” She forced herself to stay calm, to bite back the tears that threaten to consume her. She couldn’t believe this hurt so much, that she felt so betrayed by a man she’d only just met, but nothing about the past two days had been normal.
Right from the start, he’d made her feel something she’d never felt before. She should have known it would all end like this.
“You can stay the night in your cabin,” Ellie continued, sounding calmer than she felt. “Then find somewhere else to finish out your trip. We’ll refund the difference. I’m sure rooms will open up now the festival is over.”
“Ellie…” Dash closed the distance between them. He reaches for her, but she flinched away. If he puts his hands on her, she wouldn’t stay strong, she would fall apart, and she couldn’t give him the satisfaction—or more material for “Ally” and his script.
“No,” Ellie managed to reply, turning away so he couldn’t see her cry. “You’ve made it clear, the only thing that matters to you is your script, so go find somewhere and finish it in peace. I don’t want you here in the morning, do you understand?”
There was silence. She almost want him to stay, to fight, to take it back and show her that he cared. Then his voice came, low and defeated. “I’ll be gone, don’t worry.”
She waited, holding her arms around herself—holding it all together. She heard him head down the hall to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes, then his footsteps returned.
“I’m sorry.”
His words lingered, but Ellie didn’t turn around; she waited until he was downstairs and out the front door—his shadow moving across the snow out the window—before she sank down on the couch and finally give in to tears.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d known from the start that he would hurt her. Guys like him left, it’s what they did, but somehow with the snow and the carols and the chemistry between them, Ellie had let herself forget. She’d been swept along in the fantasy winter wonderland, caught up in him; She didn’t see the red warning flags.
Danger: thin ice.
Now it had all come crashing down. Ellie was still there, and Dash was gone.
She saw something on the table: a memory stick drive Dash had left behind. The script. The stupid damn script. She picked it up and hurled it in the trash in one angry sweep.
She knew she was right, that he’d used her and betrayed her, and wouldn’t make it right when she’d given him the chance. She was better off without a man like that.
So why did Ellie feel like she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life?
10
“Happy holidays!”
The signs greeted Dash at JFK—in six different languages—but he was feeling anything but merry. He’d spent all night travelling: first the long drive from Sweetbriar to Boston, then a stand-by flight out to New York. Eight hours to feel like a complete worthless bastard, remembering the hurt look on Ellie’s face, and how she was trying so hard not to cry. It had haunted him the whole journey, lingering like a shadow of guilt and regret he just couldn’t shake. Now it was morning, and all he wanted to do was check into a hotel and sleep for three days straight.
Drinking sounded good too.
His cell rang as he was falling into a cab.
“What’s up?” It was his buddy, Blake. “How’s the wilderness treating you?”
“Change of plans,” Dash told him, then leaned forward to instruct the driver, “Manhattan. The Crosby Street Hotel, thanks.”
“Wait, you’re in the city?” Blake snorted. “I knew you couldn’t hack that rustic place for long.”
“I was hacking just fine,” Dash told him reluctantly as they drove away. “Until…” he stopped, feeling another tidal wave of guilt. “Well, there was this girl…”
“Uh oh.” Blake must have heard the weight in Dash’s voice. “What did you do?”
“Why do you think it was me that did something?”
“Because you have a long history of fucking things up,” Blake said, blunt but good-natured. “I know you don’t mean to,” he added. “But the minute some girl doesn’t live up to being the main character in that movie in your head, you call it quits and move on.”
His words cut, but Dash couldn’t deny there was truth in them too. “This is different.” He sighed. “I didn’t build her up to be some perfect dream girl, I knew all along she had flaws. That’s what made her so fascinating,” he explained. “I wrote sixty pages in two days flat. She was my muse!”
“And how does she feel about that?”
Trust Blake to cut right to the point.
&
nbsp; “Not so great,” Dash admitted, feeling worthless all over again. “When she found out, she flipped. Wanted me to delete the whole thing.”
“And let me guess, you refused,” Blake finished for him.
“It’s good,” Dash said, pained. “The best thing I’ve ever written.”
“Then I guess that Oscar better be worth it,” Blake joked, then moved on like it was no big deal at all. “You going to be back for the holidays then? We’re having a get-together at our place, my brothers are coming out too, the whole family.”
“Sounds good,” Dash replied dully.
“OK, see you there. And Dash?” Blake paused. “Maybe this girl isn’t the one, you wouldn’t be walking away if she really meant something, but one day, you’re going to meet someone who is. Like I did with Zoey,” he added. “I was ready to quit the biggest movie of my career just to be with her, and I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. I know your writing matters to you, I understand that. But some things are more important.”
He said goodbye and hung up, but his words lingered.
You wouldn’t be walking away if she really meant something…
Ellie asked Dash to leave, she’d flat-out ordered him to go. He didn’t have a choice—did he?
Dash tried to shake it off. It was easy for Blake to say that; he was riding high, an A-list star with Hollywood at his feet. But it was different for Dash, he still had something to prove. He didn’t want to be on the cover of magazines, or his name up there in lights. He wanted to make movies that changed people’s lives. Where you walked out of the theater feeling like you saw something in the world that wasn’t there before. That script had come pouring out of Dash like nothing else, the way it did when you knew those words are meant to be. He could already tell this movie would be great. Career-defining, door-opening, the kind of movie that would take his career to a whole new level.
And lose Ellie for good.
There were no two ways about it: he couldn’t have both. If Dash turned in this script and moved ahead with the production, she would never forgive him. He wouldn’t ever be able to take it back, this character would be out there in movie theaters and live on for years in DVDs and old cable reruns, lasting evidence of the choice he made and what he’d chosen to give up. But if he deleted the draft and tried to cobble together something new, he would know his best work was in the garbage, and he might never produce something quite as good.
Ellie or the movie. His career, or a chance at love.
How was he supposed to pick?
The cab driver met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Traffic, man,” he tutted, as they crawled along the airport road at a snail’s pace. “Heading home for the holidays?” he asked, friendly.
“Something like that.”
His folks were in England. He would have booked a trip, or flown them out to LA, but he was too busy with this deadline.
“Best time of the year,” the cabbie continued cheerfully. “Got to be with the ones you love. Nothing like it.”
“Uh huh,” Dash murmured, staring out of the window at the bleak winter view. The snow was piled in ugly slush on the side of the road, exhaust fumes clouding the air from all the cars honking and growling to get through. He thought of Sweetbriar Cove, the powdery snowfall and crisp air. Already, it felt too far away, like a scene in a movie he’d watched years ago and only vaguely remembered.
But Ellie, he remembered too well. Those blue eyes, mischievous and teasing. Her sassy mouth, the cascade of silky blonde hair…
And her body. Dash would remember the feel of her body against until the day his mind wasted away.
She’s just a girl, he tried to tell himself. Blake was right. She wasn’t the one. When Dash met the right woman, he’d know. It would be easy, simple, no argument about it. And life with Ellie would be anything but simple. Hell, just a couple of days with her had turned his life upside down, scrambled Dash so badly that he couldn’t get her off his brain.
He sighed. What was he supposed to do, just turn around, go all the way back to Sweetbriar and beg for her forgiveness? Trash the best script he’d ever written and for what, the slim chance that their whirlwind romance could turn into something real?
Despite all the logical arguments playing out in his head, Dash realized he was playing with his phone, turning it over in his hands. The urge to hear Ellie’s voice was too strong to resist. He tapped to find the number at the inn and dialed.
It rang for a couple of beats. His heart was pounding.
Pull it together.
“Sweetbriar Inn, home of the Starbright Festival,” Ellie’s voice came down the line, so familiar it cut right through Dash’s chest. “How can I help you?”
He could picture her clear as day: leaning on the front desk, wearing another one of those crazy holiday sweaters, surrounded by the paperwork of some other small business she was busy rescuing.
“Hello?” she asked again, and he heard her stifling a yawn. “Can you hear me?”
There was another pause, then she hung up.
Dial tone.
Regret crashed through him, stronger than ever. He wanted to be right there with her, bringing a smile to those perfect lips, seeing the way her face changed when she was trying not to laugh.
He missed her.
He needed her.
He wanted that smile beside him, not just for a few days, but for good.
Damn.
The enormity of his mistake finally hit Dash, hard.
He had walked away. The first sign of trouble, and he’d bailed. He didn’t fight for her, he didn’t choose her the way he should have done. He’d let his own stupid insecurities and ambition drown out everything else, until he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.
The best thing that had ever happened to him.
Ellie.
This was one situation a last-minute rewrite wouldn’t fix. No words on the page could mend what was broken between them. He couldn’t just sit around and imagine their happy ending. He had to make it happen.
Right now.
“Change of plans,” Dash told the cab driver. Luckily they were still stuck circling the airport, not even out on the freeway yet. “Drop me off at the car rental center, right here.”
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t disagree. “Sure thing, man.”
Dash quickly used his phone to search for driving routes back out to Cape Cod. It was a six-hour drive at least, more in this weather. That meant he could be back to Ellie before the end of the day.
The thought felt so damn right, he didn’t need to question it anymore. All he had to do was figure out a way to make this right.
He would think of something. He had a long drive ahead of him.
11
It was Christmas Eve, and Ellie was giving Scrooge a run for his money.
“Couldn’t you at least try to smile at the guests?” her older sister Charlotte sighed.
She gave a listless shrug, slumped on the couch in the lobby as Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore dragged their bags out to their cab. “Happy holidays!” Charlotte called after them. “Come stay again anytime.”
Ellie sank lower on the couch and reached for more candy.
“Nope, that’s it, I’m cutting you off.” Charlotte snatched away the bag of peanut brittle. “You’ve done nothing but wallow and eat all day.”
“You’re supposed to be in Boston,” Ellie pointed out. “I thought I’d get to wallow in peace.”
“And I thought you could use a break from work to enjoy the holidays,” Charlotte replied, shoving Ellie’s feet off the coffee table. “Little did I know, you were busy scaring everyone away.”
“They’re leaving because the festival is over,” Ellie pointed out, but that didn’t pacify her sister.
Charlotte put her hands on her hips and looks at Ellie. “I don’t understand, you knew this guy for like, two days. How are you this much of a mess?”
“I don’t know!” Ellie grabbed the candy back. “But
I am, so can you please leave me to mope alone?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Will you at least have some soup to go with that sugar?”
“If you’re making it,” Ellie answered with a full mouth.
“I’ll be right down.” Charlotte patted her kindly on the head and went upstairs. Ellie shoved more candy into her mouth, but the sweet treat only made her head hurt. She’d barely slept last night after Dash left; she just kept running over the fight in her mind, reliving every terrible moment—and all the places where she could have just bitten her tongue and asked him to stay.
Now that her initial betrayal was fading, the anger had given way to sadness and a massive, aching regret. She’d had a glimpse of something great, and she’d let it slip away. Like those first snowflakes of winter that melted on your tongue, all that was left was the memory of their time together, haunting Ellie.
Dash was smart, and fun, and hot as hell, but more than that, he got her. The way they’d bantered and joked, how he didn’t mind her sarcasm or quick retorts. Other guys backed off, they thought she was too much to handle, but he’d been ready for the challenge: the chemistry between them building to the breaking point.
And when it had finally exploded…
Ellie buried her head in a pillow and let out a muffled groan. She was never going to find sex like that again. His hands…his body…his mouth. She would die a withered old crone, with only memories of their night together to keep her warm.
Great job, Ellie. Happy holidays to you.
She lifted her head in time to see Charlotte come downstairs with a trash bag. “Honestly,” she said, passing Ellie on her way outside. “It’s a mess up there. If you weren’t such a wreck right now, I’d be severely annoyed.”
Ellie cringed. “Sorry.”
She idly watched Charlotte through the door as she crossed the snow to the bins. Then it hit her. The trash. Dash’s memory stick.
His script.
“Wait!” She leapt up and shoved her feet into the nearest pair of snow boots. “Stop!”
But Charlotte didn’t hear her. She tossed the bag over the top of the dumpster as Ellie barreled breathlessly outside. “No!” she wailed, “I need something from in there.”