by Arell Rivers
Cole kisses my cheek. “Tell me, how would you handle this situation with Starr?”
Sniffling, I answer, “I would frame her as the boy who cried wolf. A lying, raving lunatic. I doubt anyone will believe her story after she Photoshopped your marriage certificate and hired someone to hack the county’s database. And I would repeat our request for the public to help us find her. Someone has to have seen her.”
“Makes sense.”
Straightening up, I continue, “Plus, I would make sure that you and Emilie are seen out together. Well, you’re flying to New York tomorrow, so she’ll go with you. That would be perfect. You can be interviewed together on Hello to dispel Starr’s rumors.”
“I’d rather come clean to the public about us.”
I shake my head as we continue our battle of wills about the public status of our relationship. I play my trump card. “You’ve been seen with Emilie for a few months. Emilie’s still getting over her very high-profile Rinaldo break-up. It won’t be good for her image if we come clean now, especially not after this mess with Starr.”
“I didn’t think about it from that angle.”
I nod.
He winks.
“You’re fucking brilliant. I’m so lucky to be your first official client. You better not get so busy you can’t personally handle my account, Miss Morgan.”
The way he’s speaking, as if this is a done deal rather than a flight of fancy, makes me giggle.
“I love that giggle, sweetheart.” He kisses my willing lips. “And I love you.”
I have to trust in us, in myself, now more than ever. I whisper, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Cole.” I lean in and give him another kiss.
“Now that’s something I’ll never tire of hearing.” He kisses me tenderly, then sits back. “Let’s deal with Gruesome.”
He calls his voicemail, putting the phone on speaker so I can hear. “Cole, it’s Greta. Your Q Score is through the roof now that the Starr woman has been discredited. A private jet will be waiting for you at the Van Nuys airport on Sunday at three o’clock to take you to New York for your appearance on Hello on Monday. I’m sure you heard about Starr’s latest social media stunt. This lie has made it impossible for Rose to do her job effectively, so call Kim and she’ll give you all the details.”
I blink and glance at Cole. “And this is why she’s the queen of spin.”
“Well, whatever spin she’s trying to do on me, Gruesome and Kimmie won’t be my problem anymore. I’m going to fire the lot of them.”
“No. You can’t do that. She’s the best in the business.”
Cole’s jaw clenches. “I don’t want that bitch on my payroll.”
I take a hold of his forearm. “Cole, please, don’t do anything rash. Wait for me to find another job and you can follow me to wherever that is.” Unless I take Marco’s offer, and then I’ll be on the other side of PR. I shake my head. “You have to be represented, especially now. Stop and think. What would Russell say?”
“Fuck.”
I offer him a small smile. “That about sums it up.”
“I’m going to call Russell and tell him about us. He deserves to know.”
He pauses and looks at me, as if seeking my approval. Why not? Starr’s already outed us. Russell is very pragmatic; I’m sure he won’t let Cole be unrepresented.
I shrug my shoulder and say, “Okay.”
While I want to hear this conversation, it’s best for the two of them to discuss the situation privately. I leave Cole on the patio and wander into the living room. After turning on some light classical music, I sink into a very comfy, oversized chair facing a huge picture window that faces the mountains. I half expect Wills, Emilie or Jared to show up at any second, as they came to this house with us last night. Ozzy and his date stayed back in LA.
What am I going to do? Can I work with Marco? Mom would be overjoyed, that’s for sure. But, Cole? It would be a job—an income—but . . . The ping of a text brings me out of my internal debate. McKenna’s name appears on my screen. I’m here for you, Rookie. Call me.
I take her up on her offer. “Hey, McKenna.”
“When it rains, it pours by you, huh?”
“You can say that again. Greta fired me.”
She gasps. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. I know how much you liked your job. But maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out more like a wheeze. “I don’t see how.”
“You’ve learned a lot from your former boss. You’ve basically been handling clients on your own now for a couple of years now, right?”
“Greta always approved my strategies.”
“Right. Without adding any input. And usually after you had already started implementing them anyway. You want to know what I think?” Although she can’t see me, I shake my head. She plows ahead. “I think she was looking for any excuse to cut you loose. That woman was jealous of you.” Shari said something similar before.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Look at it this way. You had that reporter call you directly when Starr was trying to get his magazine to buy her story. He didn’t call Greta.”
“Well, that’s true. But he’s just one.”
“I’m sure you have many more media contacts who have bypassed your supposedly wonderful boss and gone straight to you.”
I tap my fingers on the large ottoman that serves as a coffee table. “Well, the Hello producer did call me directly yesterday.”
“See! Rose, I think you should start your own firm.”
“You sound like Cole.”
“Your man knows what he’s talking about.”
I half-smile. I like the sounds of that—my man. “I don’t know the first thing about running my own business.” That’s the truth. My only experience is with Mom’s, and that didn’t end well.
“I can help you out. There’s a lot of bookkeeping and legal stuff, but that’s what accountants and lawyers are for. You already have one client built in, and a network of media contacts. You can do this.”
McKenna’s words give me a sliver of hope. Maybe it would be different for me? Greta’s voice chooses this moment to resurface in my mind. “Greta said she’ll blackball me in the industry.”
“I don’t play well with bullies. She can’t stop you from hiring yourself. Just tell her to keep that stick up her ass.”
I giggle. For real, this time. McKenna keeps her pep talk going for another ten minutes, extoling the virtues of becoming my own boss and calling all the shots. My mind jumps to Ozzy and his. . . whatever she was last night, but I don’t bring it up. I don’t want to hurt McKenna. By the time we hang up, I almost believe I can do this. It can’t be as easy as she made it sound, can it?
The phone rings in my hand. With a smile still in my voice, I answer, “Hi, Shari.”
“Rose, how are you? I just saw the email from Greta.” Shari’s words rush together.
“What email?”
More slowly, she responds, “You didn’t get it? Oh my gosh. It says that you’re no longer working at the Agency.”
I sigh. “That’s true.”
“What on earth happened?”
“Starr happened. I take it you didn’t see her post?”
“No. Let me look.” I wait for her to do her research. “Oh, boy. I take it Greta saw this?”
I switch positions in the chair. “Yes, last night when we were all out at a club celebrating Cole’s PR victory.”
“Rose, I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?” I can almost feel her give me a hug through the phone. It gives me strength, just like talking to Cole and McKenna did.
“I’m not sure. I doubt I’ll be able to get another job in the industry.”
“You’re an excellent publicist. This isn’t fair.”
Cole and McKenna’s words pop into my head and out of my mouth. “I may start my own firm.” I gasp. She’s going to think I’m absolutely crazy.
“Ro
se, I think that would be great. If you do, let me know. I might be interested in coming on board. Without you here, this place just lost its soul.”
“Thanks, Shari. I’ll keep you posted.”
I disconnect the call, my thoughts in freefall. Scrolling through the photos of Cole in my phone, I stop at a selfie of us at his pool.
“I like that dreamy look on your face. I’m going to assume I put it there.”
I focus on the man, in the flesh. “Arrogant, much?”
“I prefer the term ‘confident.’”
Cole bends down to look at the photo, and smiles. “Good times.” He squeezes into the chair and gives me a kiss that leaves me breathless.
Before my mind goes to total mush, I ask, “What did Russell say?”
His lips fall. “He agrees with you. He doesn’t want me to fire Gruesome until your firm is up and running. Which, by the way, can be done pretty quickly.”
“So he’d be okay with you switching from Greta to me?”
“Absofuckinglutely. He thinks very highly of you, as does Jon. And he wishes us both as much happiness as he and Wendy have together.”
“Wow.”
Cole kisses me again, igniting the passion between us. Before I’m swept away, I ask, “Did you speak with Kim?”
“That twit. Yeah. I talked with her and took down all the details for my appearance on Monday. I have to be on set by six a.m., so I changed the flight time to eight tomorrow night. That will be enough time to get to the penthouse, take a shower and change. We’ll sleep on the plane.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I told Kimmie five of us will be flying out.”
“Did she ask who?”
“No, and I didn’t volunteer the information.”
“What strategy did she give you for Emilie?”
“She didn’t.”
Hasn’t she learned anything working for Greta? I scowl. “Then, what did she say about how you should handle Starr’s post?”
“She said not to address it, as it’s obviously another one of her delusions. I almost bit her head off when she said the photos look like bad Photoshop.”
Of course she’s convinced herself of that. No way a mousy girl like me would capture Cole’s heart. “Lisa doesn’t have any credibility, and Kim can’t believe her own eyes.”
“Kimmie’s useless. She did say that Gruesome’s PI is still searching for Lisa, though.”
I nod. “That’s good. And Nolan and the police are looking for her, too. She’ll be found soon, I hope.”
“Me, too, sweetheart.” He brushes my hair off my face. “So, will you represent me?”
I can’t believe I’m seriously considering this crazy notion. “If I decide to start my own firm.” Cole’s smile reaches his eyes.
“You know, I’ll pay a couple of months in advance to help you out.”
I jump out of his arms. “I don’t need any handouts.”
He grabs both of my hands and deposits me back in the chair next to him. “It wouldn’t be a handout. You’ll be earning every penny.”
I need to learn not to get my hackles up whenever he talks about money. I sigh. “You’re right, I’ll be working really hard with you as a client. If I go that route.”
Wisely deciding to leave this discussion for later, he kisses my nose. “Now, I have something for you.”
I look at his lap, then promptly feel a blush stealing up my neck. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Not that, for once.” He fishes into his pocket. “I’ve been waiting until the right moment to give this to you. Open your hand.”
I open my hand, palm facing the ceiling. Cole looks deep into my eyes, and then drops something small into my hand. I suck in a breath. “It’s Chris’s engagement ring.”
Somber green eyes search mine. “The police got it back a couple of days ago. I pulled some strings with Kates and Detective Mahoney let me pick it up for you.”
My fingers skim the half-carat diamond solitaire. Tears well up. I squeak, “Thank you.” It’s a piece of my past that I feared I’d never see again.
“Hold out your other hand.”
I blink, then do as I’m instructed. He drops a necklace with a small diamond pendant into my open palm. I cock my head.
“It was Mom’s.” Using his hands, he closes mine over the two pieces of jewelry. “The diamonds are about the same size. I thought you might be able to turn them into a pair of earrings. That way, when you wear them, you’ll have a piece of your past with a piece of mine.”
My breath hitches. Carefully, I lay the jewels on the ottoman, then launch myself at him. “How did I get so lucky? I love you, Cole Manchester.”
“I love you, too.” He kisses me so hard that my toes curl. My hands reach for the bottom of his T-shirt, but he stops me and pulls back. “I have one more thing.” He extricates himself from both me and the chair, then smoothly lowers down to one knee.
I suck in a breath. Oh. My. God. Tears fill my eyes as he pulls out a ring box from his pocket. My head shakes from side to side as my left hand flies up to cover my open mouth.
He takes a long breath and opens the box, revealing a ginormous diamond ring. The setting looks like a rose in bloom. “Rose Bloomer, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are my world. You challenge me to be a better person and make me hear melodies that I didn’t know existed.” He pries my hand away from my still-open mouth and places the ring at the tip of my finger. “Rose, will you marry me?”
Mom’s words reverberate through my brain. I have to be able to stand on my own two feet before I can think of taking this next step with him. I want us to be equal partners, not for me to be his dependent wife.
Sucking in my breath, I rush out, “I can’t say yes, Cole, but it’s not a no. It’s a later, okay? I need to get my life sorted out before I can say yes. Will you wait for me?”
Sunday
COLE TOOK MY refusal—deferral—better than I could have hoped. He said he understands why I can’t say “yes” until my life is back on track. Once it is, I’ll gladly wear his ring.
About an hour ago, Cole, Emilie, Wills, Jared and I sat down on the patio at the Inn of the Seventh Ray. The restaurant is close to Jessie and Amanda’s retreat, on our way to the airport, and it was highly recommended by them. I can see why; it’s great.
Out of the blue, Cole addresses the table, “I want to do what Rose and I discussed.”
What’s he talking about? Emilie asks the question before I do, “What is that?”
“I’m going to set up a charity in my mother’s name. To match up kids in need with music tutors.”
He’s going to do so much good for so many. I beam. “She would be proud.”
He nods. “You’ll help me, once you get your firm up and running.”
Emilie glances at Wills, laughing gently. “Your boyfriend cannot let you make your own mind up about starting your company. Seems like it is a fait accompli.”
Savoring the restaurant’s delicious banana bread pudding, paired with peanut butter ice cream, I reply, “I know. He can be very persuasive.”
Under his breath, he says, “I’m convincing on all fronts. And persistent.” He squeezes my left hand, where his engagement ring should reside.
I whisper back, “Just give me a little time.”
He squeezes my hand again.
Jared answers his phone and walks away from the table. We continue to discuss Cole’s charity in broad terms. When Jared rejoins our table, his usual equanimity is missing—he’s excited. “Kates got a hot lead on the hacker Starr hired. We’re closer to the guy, so he wants me to go check it out.”
He looks at Cole. “Stick with Wills. I’ll meet you at Van Nuys Airport before wheels up at eight.” With that, he leaves us to finish our dessert.
“I hope Jared catches the guy, and he leads us directly to the Psycho Bitch who hired him,” Cole mutters.
Wills toasts with his coffee. “Here, here.”
After we enjoy the oranges and pinks of the glorious sunset p
rovided by Mother Nature, the check comes and Cole settles the bill for the whole table. I tamp down my guilt at not being able to financially contribute.
Yet.
Wills urges us to leave for the airport. Although the restaurant is beautiful, especially the creek-side dining, both he and Jared were twitchy about its open surroundings.
We pile into two cars. Cole and I start down Topanga Canyon Boulevard, and Wills and Emilie follow behind us. In typical California fashion, the highway snakes through the picturesque valley.
“We need to send a thank you to Jessie and Amanda,” I say. “This weekend was just what I needed.”
Slowly navigating the sharp turns through the Santa Monica Mountains, Cole corrects me. “It was almost perfect, Ro. But I’m a newly patient man.”
It’s turning twilight, and our two cars are the only ones on the windy road—a rarity for California. Something up ahead catches my eye, and then a car by the side of the road comes into focus. Its hood is up.
“I think that car up ahead is broken down. No one else is on the road. Should we stop and help?”
Slowing down, Cole calls Wills. “Hey, there’s a car up ahead that has its hood up. I’m going to pull over to see what’s wrong.”
Wills’s voice fills the car. “No, Cole. I don’t want you to do that.”
A grey-haired woman waves for help. I say, “It’s an old lady, Wills.”
Cole glances at me, then says, “One of us has to stop, Wills. We can’t leave a grandma out here alone.”
Wills’s voice sounds frustrated as it floats over the Bluetooth. “It’s not safe. I need to keep eyes on you.”
Cole snorts. “Seriously, dude? No one else is on the road. We can both stop.” Cole slows down as we approach the car. “Shit, the shoulder can only accommodate one of us.”
Wills mutters, “I’ll stop. What do you know about cars anyway? Promise me that you’ll pull into the next scenic overlook and wait.”
Raising three fingers, Cole promises, “Scout’s honor.” He disconnects the call.
Not remembering any photos of Cole in a uniform, I ask, “Were you a boy scout?”