I’m not sure what I admire more, her shrewdness or the fact that she’s not starstruck.
“To be honest I answer to either,” I tell her.
“So does she.” Barrett tips his head at Catarina and then leans over the table to take my hand. Which he kisses. “You look great, Al.”
“Thanks.” I smile, genuinely flattered. But then that’s what it’s like with Barrett. He says anything and gets away with it. Almost all the time. Speaking of…“I hear you made it back to broadcasting from the field even though you stuck your foot in your mouth a while back. That gives me hope for my current situation.”
“Right. The Oscar-napping.” Barrett pulls out a chair for Catarina, who eyes me through narrowed lashes, and I squirm in my seat. Possibly she isn’t starstruck because she thinks I’m a thief. “Kitty Cat. Coffee? No Pike Place here, but I can improvise.”
“How about a juice instead. Something fruity.”
“You got it.” Barrett swaggers to the counter and Catarina continues frying me with a look that might be a glare before primly lowering into her seat.
“I’m starved. You want anything to eat?” Jax, the bottomless pit, asks.
“No, thanks.”
A man takes the stage and applause draws our attention to the front. With Catarina’s attention snagged, Jax leans in to kiss me and whispers, “She won’t screw you over. If you ever wanted a reporter on your side, here’s your chance.”
Catarina faces us as Jax stands. “Kitty Cat? Food?”
“I’m good, Burke, thanks.” She blinks catlike eyes at me.
“So. You work for The Columbus Dispatch?” A bit of a clumsy start to small talk, but I’m doing my best.
“I run The Chat, better known as the online sector of The Columbus Dispatch,” Catarina explains. “I mostly focus on relationship advice. Need some?”
My laugh is slightly uncomfortable.
“Or do you have some?” She cranes an eyebrow. “You two go great together. I didn’t know what to make of him when we first met.”
“Which was where?” My eyes go to Jax, who swaggers over to stand next to Barrett. They’re facing each other, arms crossed over their chests while waiting on their orders. I’d die to know what they’re discussing.
“At a beer tasting at the art museum last year. He hopped up onstage with Barrett and they sang—”
“More Than Words.” Figures. Oldest trick in their college playbook. “I remember that bit well.”
Her smile is genuine, her guard dropping at once. “That ‘bit’ sealed the deal with Fox and me. It was hot. His voice is amazing.”
Her eyes go hazy while she enjoys the memory.
“The moment Jax has a few too many he shows off. Either playing guitar or football.”
“They played street ball at his summer party.”
“Oh, right. I hear you fell victim to the Burke-bombers.”
She winces. “I’m supposed to be more put together than that. But yeah, Fox held my hair.”
She calls Barrett by his last name, Fox. That’s freaking adorable. I find myself loosening up around her, leaning in to prop my chin on my fist when the music swells.
“I’m nicer than I seem in the news,” I explain, hinting that there’s more to my story.
“I’m nicer than I seem, period.” She smiles. “I didn’t mean to have my guard up when I walked in. I avoided the gossip about you after Barrett said we’d be meeting for drinks tonight so that an opinion wouldn’t form ahead of time, but it wasn’t easy. You’re everywhere.”
Tell me about it. I nod solemnly. To think that I used to dream about being “everywhere.”
“That must be hard,” she says in sympathy. Most people believe that I should take the criticism with my chin up, since this was the job I pursued. It’s like they forget I’m an actual human being with feelings.
“It can be.” It is hard. It’s hard to not be liked, and I worry there’ll never come a day when I’ll be able to stomach the idea of someone thinking ill of me.
“Have you given anyone your exclusive side of the story yet?” Catarina asks. “It’s not typically something I write, but my editor would eat up the chance at an exclusive. She’d pay you, too. Handsomely.”
I’ve been thinking about that lately. My efforts at script writing shifted to journaling, and I’d toyed with the idea of writing a column or a blog to share my point of view. Sadly, I’m not great at it. But Catarina is—this is what she does for a living.
“That’s…I’d love that,” I tell her. “It’s not easy to find someone to trust in your business. No offense.”
“Trust me. I know.” Her eyebrow lifts subtly like there’s a story there, but I don’t have the chance to ferret it out before the boys return with Catarina’s drink.
Barrett and Jax start talking about football, each eating giant cookies. It’s so adorable I can’t stand it. Catarina and I return to our respective beverages and turn our attention to the guy playing acoustic onstage. At one point, she leans over the table and says to me so that Jax can hear, “Guess you should be glad there’s no alcohol around or your guy would steal that spotlight.”
Jax polishes off his cookie and dusts his hands on his jeans. “Fox would steal the spotlight from me unless I went up there alone. Why are you so fucking great at everything anyway?” he asks Barrett, then his gaze snags on mine.
I warm inside when he holds my eyes for a beat longer than necessary. I have the passing thought that maybe Jax has always been perfect for me since I’m a spotlight hog and he doesn’t mind sharing it. Rather than quash it, I let it be, easing against him. He wraps an arm around me.
Fox whispers something to Catarina that makes her throw her head back and laugh. It’s a sight, watching her turn to jelly with him.
Those two opposites happy together make me believe anything is possible.
Even a seemingly impossible second chance.
Chapter 22
I wake up to a loud crash coming from the vicinity of my parents’ bedroom and jolt out of bed. Jax told me he’d be here early to make some final tweaks to the deck and promised to wake me when he was done.
That crash didn’t sound like a “tweak” to me. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’d planned on waking me in a much sexier way than that.
I hurry out of bed, groggy from staying up late for the last three nights in a row—Jax’s fault—and slide my legs into shorts. I grab a T-shirt, intending to forgo the bra until I hear two voices. Jax’s and another one that’s male and slightly garbled. If I had to guess I’d say it’s Tommy’s.
Bra on, hair somewhat arranged on my head, and last night’s mascara removed from under my eyes, I gargle with mouthwash and leave my bedroom. When I step into the hallway and hear my name, I stop cold and cock my head to listen.
“Calm down before you wake Allie,” comes Jax’s warning. His tone is firm but gentle at the same time. How does he do that? Call up that calmly authoritative voice? “There is a better way to take out your frustrations than knocking a hole in Daryl’s drywall.”
“Sorry.” That one word is cracked around the edges. Tommy pulls in a breath and lets it out. Then I hear a sentence that squeezes my heart with sympathy. “Lydia dumped me and I feel like I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die.” Jax sighs and I hear a shuffling sound like he’s sitting. “Talk to me.”
“She—I love her so much and last night she said we were over. She met someone. I know it. I mean, I don’t know it for sure, but it’s a good guess, right?”
Jax doesn’t respond.
“I texted her this morning that I’m coming over today to sort this out and this is what she said”—the inflection of his voice changes as he reads—“ ‘Today isn’t good.’ Today isn’t good! Can you believe that shit?”
I wince. I can believe it. It’s
easy to be cowardly. Being up-front is harder.
“She and I were in love,” Tommy continues. “There’s no way she’d walk away unless some asshole turned her head. I can’t picture being with anyone but her, you know?” He sniffs. “Nah, you don’t know. You’re hot and heavy with the famous actress down the hall.”
Tommy’s voice lilts with good humor like he’s goading Jax into admitting something. I, for one, am curious if he’ll admit anything.
“No girl has ever broken your stone-cold heart. Am I right?” Tommy lets out a watery laugh swimming with emotion. I can’t help my own sad smile. I expect Jax to tell him to shake it off and get back to work, but he surprises me by saying more. I step lightly down the hallway, creeping closer to listen.
“Yeah, I’ve had my heart broken. That famous actress down the hall was the one who did the breaking. I was about your age when it happened.”
“You guys dated before?”
“In high school and part of college. She dropped out and moved to Hollywood.”
“And dumped you,” Tommy concludes.
“She swung the final blow, but I suspect we were heading there already.”
“Holy shit. High school sweethearts. Lydia and me have been datin’ a year. Feels longer, though. I was going to marry that girl.”
“I know what you mean.”
I’m stunned stupid, my heart thundering at that pronouncement. If Jax was going to marry me, that was the first I’ve heard of it. Maybe he said it just to be nice. To be relatable…
“Must’ve sucked seeing her on TV and magazines,” Tommy says. “Knowing she was off dating famous people while you were stuck here.”
Jax remains silent, and really what is there to say to that?
“But she’s here now, and somehow you got her back.” Tommy’s voice is infused with hope. “How?”
“She’s back for now, not for good. Her life’s in California. That’s not going to change.”
“It could.”
“No. It couldn’t. We’re enjoying being together for the moment. In the moment. That’s how you need to take this breakup. One moment at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s going to hurt for a while and it’s going to suck for a longer while. But you’ll come out of it. Even if Lydia doesn’t come back to you, you’ll come out of it. Yeah?”
A sound like Jax thumping Tommy on the back comes from the bedroom and his voice rises as he stands. “Call Daryl. Ask him to repair the hole you punched in his work. You’re explaining this mess, not me. And the materials are coming out of your paycheck.”
Tommy grumbles his agreement.
I back down the hall with light steps, intending to duck into my room, but Jax appears in the doorway sooner than I expect. His eyes land on me, widening as his steps slow.
“Did we wake you?” he asks carefully, assessing what I know or don’t know.
“Yes, but it’s okay.” I back tentatively toward my bedroom door without a single excuse for eavesdropping in my arsenal. The bathroom and the stairs are at my back. It’s obvious I was loitering outside my parents’ bedroom rather than heading in the opposite direction. Even so, I said, “I heard my name, so…”
Jax nods and ignores my prompt. “We’ll have the drywall repaired and repainted before your parents return home.”
I nod, mute, as he takes another long-legged step toward me.
I can’t not address what I heard. I just can’t. “I’m sorry I hurt you back then.”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Presses his lips together. Then shakes his head and starts to walk past me.
Oh, I don’t think so. I lock a hand around his biceps and tug. It’s very obvious by the flex of those powerful muscles under my palm that he stops of his own accord.
“I was hurting, too.” I need to explain that part. “I didn’t want us to end, either, but—”
“Mini. None of this matters now.”
“It matters.”
“It doesn’t.” His mouth hitches into an easy half smile that feels a lot like a smoke screen. He slides a lock of hair away from my cheek and cups my jaw. “Be in the moment with me. All right?”
But the moment might not be enough, I think, alarmed by the thought.
We could’ve had more, but we were young and naïve and didn’t have a solid plan for our lives. We’re different now. We’re different together, too. For the first time in my life I want more. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so to feel that for Jax is…well, it’s freaking me out. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. The dream I chased to California—the dream that I thought would be everything I ever wanted—is no longer enough for me. That glamorous life is pointless without someone to share it with.
Without Jax to share it with.
That’s terrifying for many reasons. I let go of his arm and give him a shaky nod. “In the moment. Right.”
“Tonight?” That smirk covers my lips for a brief kiss.
I nod.
“I’ll call you later. I have another job today, so it’ll be late.”
“I’ll check on Tommy.” I don’t know what else to say. About any of it.
“He’d like that.” Jax turns and jogs downstairs. I watch him go, torn over my feelings for him back then and the ones filling my head and my heart now. I’m also torn over his feelings, which are as opaque as they come.
* * *
—
My agent is chattering in my ear, her excitable voice on par.
“It’s perfect because the executive I spoke with is saying this show could be the next America’s Sweetheart. And they want you, Nina!”
My heart rate increases as I allow myself to imagine a home on another show. It’s what I always wanted—one place to call home, hunker down, and work hard. When they announced the cancellation of AS, we knew it was time, but the idea of starting over was daunting. A new character, a new cast, a new crew…
“That’s exciting,” I force myself to say.
“Then why don’t you sound excited?” Mer asks.
“I am. I’m just…cautious.” And weighed down by heavy emotional baggage since I discovered I might be in love with my ex-boyfriend who has zero interest in living on the other side of the country. We didn’t make it once because of distance and it’s hard to believe this time would be different.
“When’s the last time you talked to the cast of AS? Shannon? Lauren? Kate?”
“Lauren and I text almost every day.” About life in general and how much she disrespects Xavier for turning on me. She doesn’t know I didn’t swipe the Oscar, but she’s on my side like a good friend should be. “Shan and Kate are keeping their distance.”
I don’t fault them for it. Not really. They both are on track to star in a reboot of Practical Magic, and they don’t want to appear guilty by association with the press. They’re also super supportive whenever an interviewer asks them about it. I saw a segment on E! News where they declined to comment on the incident. Shan stated, “Nina is a dear friend,” and said no more.
“Don’t worry about any of this,” Meredith tells me. “Xavier’s schedule is open so we can roll with the public reconciliation sooner rather than later, which I’d recommend. It’ll pad the audition for the new show. There’s a movie premiere for Millie’s new feature—”
“No,” I blurt out, stunning my agent into silence.
“No?” she manages after a gap of time passes.
“I’m not coming back to California. Not yet. I’ll have to think about the audition.”
“There’s nothing to think about, Nina. They love you. They want you.”
“Or they want attention for the casting call.” I can picture me showing up with a bunch of fresh-faced actresses hoping to make it big. Or worse, it’ll be a show where they cast me first and then the other girls’ careers and the success
of the show will be on my shoulders. What if it’s canceled? Pilot shows crash and burn all the time. If that happens I’ll be Nina Lockhart, Oscar-napper and bad-luck charm. No, thanks. “I’m not ready. I’m not in a good place right now.”
“Honey.” Meredith does her forced-sympathy thing. My agent is a bulldog, which is why I hired her. I know she cares about her clients—her all-business persona is more about her belief that time is money, but she seems to remember my personal welfare as an afterthought. “What’s going on with you? You took a hiatus, you’re being photographed with a hunky hometown boy your public loves, and now you’re…oh. Oh. Oh no.”
I bristle, knowing she’s figured it out.
“Nina. Is what’s going on with you and the blue-collar guy serious?”
She said the word “serious” like there’s a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom trash can. By those standards…
“No. Of course not!” I protest a little too vehemently.
“You swear?”
“I swear. He’s an ex-boyfriend, and I’ll fully admit that I’ve had fun kissing him for show, but behind closed doors he knows the drill. This is an act. What we’re doing is for the publicity. He picked up two new jobs since we were photographed next to his work truck. The benefits of being seen together are mutual.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Meredith is back to business with her next breath. “A reconciliation between you and Xavier is nonnegotiable. The public loves a love story and you two have broken everyone’s heart by being apart.”
Funny how everyone’s heart is broken except for mine. I don’t even miss him.
“Nina, he threw me under the bus. I can’t trust him.”
“You don’t have to trust him. You have to appear with him a few times. Be seen going home with him a few times. Go out to lunch with him a few times.”
“That’s a lot of times,” I grumble. “Sounds like I’ll be dating him again for real.”
“Think of it like a part. And when you two are through ironing over this mess, you can walk away if that’s what you want. Or…”
“Or?” I ask after she takes a meaningful pause.
America's Sweetheart Page 15