by Lizzie Shane
She could tell herself that she was overreacting, that he hadn’t said or done anything to make her worry, that it was all in her head. But one of the things that made her a good actress was her ability to read what her scene partners were giving her, to interpret every tiny microexpression and react to it in a way that deepened her character and the drama of the moment.
Except she didn’t want drama right now. She wanted Ian to appear on her doorstep and tell her nothing was wrong.
She’d just decided to upend her entire life to stay here with him—even if he didn’t know it yet—and she needed the reassurance that he wanted her here.
When a knock came at her door late morning, she barely stopped herself from running to the door. Playing the part of the woman who had not been panicking all morning, she crossed the kitchen and pulled open the door—and found a different Summer than she was expecting on her porch.
“Hey, Maggie! Hey, Cecil!” Sadie immediately dropped to her knees to lavish attention on Cecil. “Are you busy?” She looked up, craning her neck back until Maggie could see her face beneath the Mariners cap. “Dad promised if I finished all my homework we could go see the new Avengers movie, and I finished and I asked if I could invite you too and he said yes, but I’m not allowed to badger you to come if you’re busy, so are you busy?”
“Not busy at all,” Maggie said—silently repeating to herself her new mantra: I will not read into things. It wasn’t that Ian didn’t want her to come. He was just making sure she didn’t feel obligated to.
“So you’ll come?”
“I’d love to. When are we going?”
“Now! Right away!” Sadie bounced to her feet. “There’s a show in like twenty minutes. The theatre in town isn’t nearly as nice as the one close to my school—that one has recliners and a soda machine with like a zillion flavors. The one here only has like two screens and barely any candy options, but Dad says we aren’t driving an hour each way to see a movie in this weather so if I want to go I’m going to have to suffer and I was all, ‘I’ll suffer!’”
Maggie laughed, putting her feet into Lolly’s slightly oversized galoshes and grabbing the heaviest raincoat and umbrella she could find. “We can suffer together.”
“Yes!” Sadie bounded to the edge of the deck as Maggie tucked Cecil inside the door and told him to be good. “I’m so glad you’re coming! Do you know any of the people in the Avengers movie? Do they tell you spoilers about what’s gonna happen? I think I know, but Dad says they’re gonna surprise me.”
Maggie listened to Sadie chatter as she followed her out into the rain, each beneath their own umbrella. She absently explained that she didn’t know any spoilers from the film—the filmmakers took secrecy seriously—but most of her attention was fixed on Ian as they came around the trees and the truck came into sight. Ian stood next to the driver’s side. His umbrella was bent on one side, but it still turned the water away.
“I see she talked you into it,” he called as they approached.
“I didn’t take much convincing.” She tried to read his face, but his expression gave nothing away. Was he happy she was joining them? Annoyed? With Sadie right there, she couldn’t ask.
They piled into the truck and drove the short distance to the movie theatre, Sadie keeping up a running commentary of her expectations for the film. There were no awkward silences—and no chance to ask if she was intruding—until they’d purchased their tickets and their popcorn and Sadie raced off to use the bathroom before they headed into the theatre.
“Is everything okay?” Maggie asked, pitching her voice low even though they were alone in the theatre lobby. It wasn’t opening weekend for the film and Long Shores was hardly a bustling metropolis with sold out showings.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ian asked, his gaze on the movie posters for upcoming features lining the walls. Maggie followed his gaze, seeing her own face on a poster and looking away.
“Last night you didn’t…”
Ian glanced at her, but the distance in his eyes made her stomach knot. “My mother would have noticed if I didn’t come home.”
Maggie blinked. “Right.” She hadn’t realized they were still sneaking around. She’d thought, perhaps stupidly, that they’d moved past that—being seen together at the Tipsy Gull and again today. She’d thought—
“Ready!” Sadie raced out of the bathroom. “Come on! We’re missing the previews!”
Maggie couldn’t focus on the coming attractions—even when Sadie squealed at the preview for her own late-summer blockbuster. She couldn’t escape the feeling that something was wrong. That Ian was pulling away, putting distance between them, reversing all the progress she thought they’d made in the last week—and she didn’t know why.
Was it because she’d disrupted his show last night with her presence? Had that woken him up to the fact that there was no such thing as normal with her? She knew some people couldn’t handle the fame or couldn’t handle being with someone whose presence stole the spotlight, but she’d thought Ian, who placed so little value on her celebrity, wouldn’t have a problem with it.
Sadie sat between them—the seating orchestrated by Ian—and Maggie tried to push away her misgivings as the movie began. She focused on Sadie’s excitement, on the action of the film, and let it distract her.
* * * * *
Ian couldn’t focus on the film.
Maggie could sense something was wrong—that much was obvious—and knowing that he was the one who’d put the uncertainty in her gaze made him feel like a world class asshole.
A few days ago everything had been good between them. They’d talked for hours in the middle of the night, everything as natural and easy as it had always been between them—and then it felt like everything had changed. It wasn’t natural and easy anymore. It felt like she wanted something of him—something he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to give her—and now the entire town was watching him, pushing him to be the man she wanted him to be. Someone he couldn’t be. Not even for her.
But he still hated that look in her eyes. Like a freaking kicked puppy.
The final scene at the end of the credits finished and Ian stood, gathering up the debris from their snacks while Sadie gushed about the film, already lobbying to see it a second time. They filed out of their row, the theatre’s few other patrons already making their way to the exits.
Maggie glanced at him, giving him a tentative smile, and something in his chest tightened. He reached out, catching her free hand with his and lacing their fingers together. Maggie smiled, squeezing gently, and Sadie caught sight of their entwined hands, beaming. He was sending mixed messages. He knew that. But he didn’t want to disappoint either of them.
Sadie bounced toward the exit doors and Ian and Maggie followed more slowly. Maybe it didn’t have to be so hard to give her what she wanted. Things with Maggie had always been easy when he let them. Maybe—
The doors to the lobby opened and light exploded in his face. “Maggie! Ian! How long have you been having an affair?”
More lights flashed as Ian threw up the hand holding an empty popcorn bag to shield his face and Sadie stumbled back. “Dad?”
“Ian—” Maggie started to say, but he barely heard her, dropping her hand and reaching for Sadie as what seemed like dozens of photographers crowded around them, cameras thrust forward.
The paparazzi had found Maggie Tate.
* * * * *
She should have been expecting it.
She’d been gone for weeks. That would only make the paps hungrier. They would scent a story. Something juicy. They would follow her to the ends of the earth for a story like that—Long Shores wasn’t nearly far enough. She’d gotten complacent. Gotten used to the safety, the anonymity of Long Shores.
There were only five photographers in the lobby, but there would be more before long. The word was out. Her privacy here was over.
One of the photographers she vaguely recognized reached for Sadie’s arm to move her
out of the shot—their questions making it clear they were going for the torrid love-affair angle and a kid in the frame didn’t help sell the story.
Ian was suddenly between the pap and his daughter, snarling in the man’s face. “Don’t touch her.”
“Ian, don’t.” Maggie grabbed his arm, the muscles rock hard beneath her fingers. “Just get to the car.”
The last thing she needed was Ian getting arrested for assaulting a photographer.
His arm stayed rigid beneath her fingers, but he let her pull him toward the door, Sadie sheltered between them. They’d left their umbrellas in a designated bin by the door, but Maggie didn’t stop for them now. The rain was still coming down in sheets as they raced for the truck—and it slowed down the photographers with the expensive cameras they couldn’t afford to get wet. They were able to get into the truck and out of the parking lot before the first car started after them.
“Don’t speed,” Maggie instructed, twisted to look behind them. “You can’t lose them. Just get to the house. It’s private property. If they trespass you can call the cops and push them back to the edge of your land.”
Ian swore under his breath, but he slowed the truck and dropped his hand to squeeze Sadie’s knee where she was buckled into the middle seat between them. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “They’re just reporters,” he assured his wide-eyed daughter.
“There were so many,” Sadie whispered.
Not so many, Maggie thought, but she didn’t correct the girl. She had a feeling Sadie was going to see a lot more reporters much too soon.
They’d been yelling Ian’s name too. That was the part that made her chest feel tight. They hadn’t just known she was in Long Shores. They’d known Ian’s name and they’d been lying in wait in the theatre lobby.
“How did they know we were there?” Ian asked, echoing her own thoughts as he slowed to take the turn into the driveway, leading a parade of reporters who didn’t know they were about to be forced back by the police.
“I don’t know,” Maggie murmured. “Someone from last night…” There had been so many people at the Gull. It only took one careless photo on social media and one enterprising reporter.
A car was parked beside the pink convertible in her driveway and Ian growled under his breath. “More reporters.”
But Maggie had already seen the tall figure waiting on Lolly’s porch, sheltered from the rain. “That isn’t a reporter.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Mel was hard to miss.
Six foot two in her bare feet, Maggie’s manager had a presence that matched her stature. She stood on the porch, arms folded, exuding the strength and confidence that Maggie had always admired in her.
“Let me out here,” Maggie said, reaching for the door handle as the truck slowed. “Stay inside and call the police if they come on your property.” She glanced back as she opened the door. “Ian, I’m sorry about this.”
He pressed his lips together, nodding without saying a word.
Maggie flipped up her hood, leaping out of the car and running through the rain and up onto the porch. “There are photographers right behind us,” she said as a greeting.
Melanie picked up the umbrella that had been resting beside her and opened it with the push of a button. “Go inside,” she said calmly, raising the umbrella over her head and starting toward the driveway. “I’ll take care of it.”
She was inside, shrugging out of her dripping rain coat and picking up Cecil to cuddle against her chest before it occurred to her to wonder at the coincidence that Mel had shown up at the exact same time as the press. When Mel entered the house with a slap of the screen door, having scattered the paparazzi, Maggie rested her chin on Cecil’s head and studied her manager.
“What are you doing here?”
Mel arched an eyebrow. “Did you really think you could just announce you were walking away from your entire life and I wouldn’t show up?” At Maggie’s frown, her manager rolled her eyes. “I was worried about you,” she snapped with her characteristic impatience.
“Why?”
“This isn’t exactly normal behavior for you. Someone needed to come up here to make sure you hadn’t been brainwashed.”
“Because I want something other than acting I have to be brainwashed?”
“Yes,” Mel snapped. “I’ve never met anyone who wanted it more than you do.”
“Maybe that’s not what I want anymore. Maybe I just need a freaking break. It’s my life!”
“And acting is how you sustain that life.” Mel sighed. “You can’t quit, Maggie. You need the money.”
Maggie laughed incredulously. “How could I possibly need the money? You know how much I make.” She rarely thought about how much money she had, the ridiculous excess of it, but she knew the numbers. Her contracts were competitions and she loved to win.
“Do you have any idea how much you spend?” Mel asked, her tone almost apologetic. “The private jets? The houses? All the people on your payroll?”
She hadn’t. She hadn’t paid her own way in so long she’d lost any concept of cost. But she didn’t need all that. “If I’m not Maggie Tate, Movie Star, anymore then I don’t need any of that.”
Mel’s eyebrows popped up. “So we’re all fired and you’re going to…what? Live here?” Her gaze flicked disdainfully around the kitchen—the cracked tile, the faded wallpaper.
Maggie lifted her chin defiantly. “Maybe.” She had been an industry for long enough.
She’d always liked Melanie, strong, no-nonsense Mel. She’d never been taken in by Maggie’s charm and there had been something refreshing about that, something reassuring about having someone on her payroll who would look out for her best interest even when she didn’t like it.
But Mel hadn’t been looking out for her. She’d been looking out for her career. Like all the people on Maggie’s payroll, she needed her to keep making money, to keep the industrial machine of her life moving. She needed her in LA, being obedient. Making appearances. Signing contracts.
Signing checks.
Maggie studied her manager’s face, an eerie calm settling inside her. “You tipped them off, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“The photographers. You told them I was here.”
“Maggie, I would never—”
“You did. You knew that I wanted to stay here. You knew I wanted to give up acting. You had to destroy any chance I had for a normal life.”
“That’s insulting. And completely false.”
“This is what you wanted though, isn’t it?” Maggie challenged. “For me to have no choice but to come back? For me to need you? Because you lose your job if I can live my life on my own.”
Mel shook her head. “That isn’t why I’m here and it isn’t why the photographers are.” She pulled out her phone, pulling something up and turning it to face Maggie. “I had nothing to do with this.”
Maggie wasn’t close enough to read what it said, all she could see was that it was an article in one of the gossip magazines—though one of the more reputable ones.
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” Mel said, real sympathy coloring her voice. “He’s married.”
At first the words didn’t register, then Maggie shook her head. “You should check your sources. He’s divorced.”
Melanie’s eyes filled with pity. “You sure about that?”
* * * * *
There were photographers on the beach.
Ian stood at the window, watching the figures moving just beyond the edge of his property line. Now that they were safely home, Sadie had gotten over her initial reaction and was peering out the window with binoculars, periodically gushing about how cool this was.
Ian couldn’t share the sentiment.
His mother had driven back to Seattle that morning to attend some Book Club meeting, so at least there was one less person held hostage at his house—but that didn’t make him any more comfortable with being under siege.
How long would
they stay? What was he supposed to do if they were still there when Monday came and Sadie needed to go to school? Would they follow her there?
He should have expected something like this to happen, sooner or later, but somehow he’d let himself forget what Maggie was. Let himself forget all the bullshit that came with her. He should have been thinking of Sadie, but instead he’d been thinking with his fucking dick.
The doorbell rang and his irritation with himself swung toward the sound, eager to have another target. “Sadie, get upstairs,” he snapped, eager to face off against whatever ballsy paparazzo had dared ring his bell—but when he looked out the front window, it wasn’t a photographer standing beneath the eave on his front step, but the reason for all this drama.
He jerked open the door. “Maggie.” The tone wasn’t welcoming, but he didn’t have much welcome in him at the moment.
She held up a phone, the screen toward him, displaying the massive headline, The Alien Adulteress?
“Hi, Ian. When were you planning to tell me you’re still married?”
His gaze locked on the article on her phone. “What is that?”
“Apparently one of the mothers at Sadie’s school decided to cash in on the story. Surprise—we’re engaged. And you’re still married.”’
“Lower your voice,” he growled, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door so Sadie wouldn’t hear.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. The rain drummed around them, nearly covering her words. Her hair was wet, as if she’d run through the rain between their houses without bothering to put the hood up on her coat.
“I told you I was married and she vanished.”
“But I didn’t think that meant you were still married to her! Do you have any idea how this looks?”
“That’s what matters to you right now?” he demanded, incredulous. “There are photographers on the beach pointing telephoto lenses at my daughter’s bedroom! You promised that your fame wouldn’t negatively impact Sadie, but that wasn’t a promise you could keep, was it? I should never have gotten involved with you.”