by Elsa Nickle
Of course, there was a pretty heavy finality in trashing all of her paintings as well, and thinking about it made the tears run faster and Laurel’s stomach knot tighter. Part of her wanted to run back and grab all of her art, but even if her paintings were still there, what would she do with them? If nobody wanted them, what was the point?
All of this pain stemmed from following Ethan’s advice, but it wasn’t his fault that she was a mediocre artist. If she wasn’t such a chicken, she would have responded to one of his texts or calls and just told him the truth. But she couldn’t handle that. Ethan had thought of her as an artist, and she didn’t want to disappoint him—the gaping pit of disappointment she had for herself was enough. If she talked to him, he would want to know how things went with Ralph, and she would have to admit she had zero skill and that all this running around behind her mom’s back to paint had been a colossal waste of time. All of the other Wyle men had successful women by their sides—one of them was about to marry a movie star for goodness’ sake. None of them were with college drop outs that lived with their mothers. If Ethan found out who Laurel really was, he wouldn’t be so interested. Because who could be interested in someone so deluded? But hey, maybe she’d misread Ethan just as badly as she’d misjudged her art talent. Maybe he didn’t like her as much as she thought he did. Because he had finally stopped calling. And that felt terrible too.
Just as a fresh wave of agony threatened to pull her under, Laurel heard the doorbell chime. That meant someone was at the front door. Nobody used the front door. Even the mailmen knew to leave packages at the kitchen door. Laurel almost ignored it. Everything in her wanted to stay buried in her misery, but she was curious when the doorbell rang again several times in succession. With herculean effort, she pulled herself up, shuffled down the hallway, and turned into the tiny receiving room that they rarely used on the opposite side of the kitchen. It was dusty in there.
Laurel opened the door, cautiously at first, and then let it swing out wide on its own once she saw who it was. This had to be some sort of hallucination.
Malia Kalama stood on her doorstep.
Laurel had been in her presence before, at the luncheon and wedding, but this was different. Now Malia was at Laurel’s house, alone, beaming, looking like she just fell off a runway in her designer jeans and black blouse. The thrill of this bizarre surprise shot around her insides like a pinball, hitting on joy, shock, and finally, embarrassment.
Laurel’s jaw swung as freely as the door. “Oh my gosh, hi. I mean, hello. I mean—what are you doing here?”
Malia laughed and flashed her Hollywood smile. “I’m here for you, of course.”
A million questions raced through Laurel’s head, creating quite a nest of confusion. Did I agree to hang out with Malia and somehow forget about it? How did Malia know where I live? Was she here alone? Did she notice what an old shack I live in? Also, what the heck was going on?
Malia eyed Laurel’s terrible outfit and undoubtedly puffy face. “I heard what happened, you poor thing.”
Laurel’s mind was pulled back into reality. Okay, so there was a movie star at her door, but Laurel was still a loser dressed in ratty clothes who had been rejected. And Malia knew. “You heard?”
That must mean that Ethan knew. How had he found out?
The flawless beauty nodded, all traces of laughter gone. “Yes, I heard. And believe me, I feel you. I’ve been through rejection dozens of times.”
Laurel’s brows knit together. How could someone this perfect know about rejection? She didn’t want to be impolite though, so she simply said, “You have?”
Malia pulled a comically pained face. “Of course I have! I’ve gone to hundreds of auditions where I wasn’t chosen. I can’t count all the times where I felt I wasn’t good enough, or pretty enough, or right enough for a part. I’ve cried so many tears I could have created my own river in LA.”
Wow. Laurel had never thought about that before. Of course an actress’s life would be hard, but Laurel never imagined that auditions would be so brutal for someone so gorgeous. If Malia had been through this dozens of times, her backbone must be made of titanium.
Of course, Malia had talent, whereas Laurel didn’t. She swallowed that bitter pill down and searched for something to say. “Is that why you’re here? To give me a pep talk about rejection?”
Malia pressed her hands together. “I can definitely commiserate with you later, but right now I have a different assignment.”
The word assignment made Laurel’s eyebrows shoot up. Her brain was having a hard time following what was going on. “Okay—”
“I can see that you’re confused. Ethan said you might be. But he also told me that you still owed him one. He said you would know what that meant.”
Wait, Ethan was still calling in favors from their fake dating tally? At least it didn’t sound like Malia knew anything about it. That would be majorly embarrassing. “Uh, okay. But what does this have to do with you?”
Malia tilted her chin slightly down and wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. “It’s a secret.” Laurel could totally see why this girl and Jax were together.
“Okay …” She knew she was using the word a lot, but Laurel didn’t know how else to react.
Malia smiled. “The first part of this secret mission is that I have to take you back to the ranch with me.”
Laurel wished she was an actress too, because then she would be good at masking her horror. “Like, right now? I’m not exactly ready to—”
“Oh don’t worry.” Malia waved a hand as if to erase her fears. “The boys aren’t there. Neither is Granny. She took Audrey out for the day. And you can come as you are, because once we arrive, you’re getting a makeover.”
Now Laurel was really freaking out. “I’m not going to be on some reality show, am I? Like, where they take someone frumpy with no style and then—”
Malia interrupted her again. “Are you crazy? You have tons of style. You slayed at Landon’s wedding. So what if you’re currently wearing sweats? And no, I would never blindside someone I like on a show like that. But we do have to go. We’re on a timeline.”
Laurel was so shocked, she did exactly as she was told. She grabbed some neutral heels and her phone, and she hopped in the shiny black truck parked outside. Somewhere in her haze, she registered that something crazy was happening—and Malia Kalama was apparently her friend now.
The car ride over to the ranch was hazy in Laurel’s mind. At one point, she tried to get Malia to tell her more about what was going on, but the actress could definitely keep a secret. She was consistently nice—and excellent at changing the subject.
When Laurel got out of the car and walked toward the front door of the ranch house, her head started to clear. “You’re sure the boys won’t be here?”
“Positive. Come on, first things first. We’re going to choose your dress.”
“What?”
“It’s not a big deal. You need a dress where you’re going, and I have a bunch for you to try on.”
Laurel suddenly felt like she was moving through quicksand. “We aren’t going to your secret wedding a few weeks early, are we?”
Malia laughed so hard, she had to stop walking for a second. She quickly regained her composure. “I promise—it’s not my wedding. But you are totally invited to that too.”
A warmth crackled through Laurel’s splintered heart. She had just been officially invited to the super secret, super intimate wedding. By the bride herself.
Laurel tried to bury her amazement and get back to the task of finding out where the heck they were headed. “Then where are we going?”
“Nice try.”
Malia led her through the front door, into the entry, and up the stairs. This was a part of the house Laurel hadn’t seen yet, but before she had time to look around too much, she found herself in a bedroom draped in clothes.
Dresses covered the bed, accessories topped the dresser, and a hamper in the corner overflowed wi
th rumpled men’s clothing.
“Whose room is this?”
Malia shrugged. “Ethan’s. Come on in.”
Just knowing that she was in his room, Laurel’s insides fluttered and her heart rate nearly doubled. She couldn’t suppress her reaction, but she tried not to be too obvious about it. “Does he know we’re invading his room?”
A tiny, amused smile played on Malia’s lips. “Yep.”
This was where he slept. His clean, soapy smell lingered here.
Laurel’s swallow was audible. “Oh.”
Malia slapped her hands together. “The dress code for this place is dressy-casual, sort of a cocktail vibe. But there won’t be any cocktails.”
“Okaaay.” This was so confusing. She had to assume she was going out for food somewhere fancy, and the no cocktails thing was just a red herring. Or maybe Malia knew Laurel shouldn’t be drinking.
“So I have it narrowed down to what’s on the bed.” Malia pointed at the piles. “We’ve got a wispy, little, gray babydoll dress that I wore to the Emmys over here. I put all the monochrome looks next to it, the high-necked black with the bits of lace, the full magenta—that one shows a lot of leg …”
The fog was resettling in Laurel’s brain. Malia was sharing her clothes with her? What the heck was going on? “Seriously, you have to tell me where we’re going.”
Malia bit her lips together and shook her head. “All I can say is that I’m crazy excited, and you are going to love it.”
Laurel’s eyes tried to focus on the clothes. “Well, I’m not so sure. And how do you know that any of this will fit me?”
Malia put her hands on her hips and tipped her head. “You seem about my size, but I tried to choose things that were less tailored. And that’s why we have so many options—so you can try stuff on and see what works.”
Laurel just stood there, staring. Everything in here looked brand-spanking-new and like it was made by angels. She didn’t even feel worthy to touch anything.
An exasperated sigh escaped Malia’s lips. “Do you want me to choose for you?”
Laurel shrugged, trying to exchange the overwhelm she felt for something more carefree. If she was living out every little girl’s fantasy with a room full of gorgeous gowns, she may as well have fun with it. “I really like that magenta one.”
Malia picked it up and tossed it to her.
Laurel tried it on, along with every other outfit. Some dresses didn’t fit well—two didn’t flatter her coloring—but there were a lot of dresses that made her feel like a different person, like the new “it” girl in a magazine. Laurel had never experienced anything like this, and she loved it.
In the end, Laurel chose a flowing chiffon blush dress that managed to be both fancy and casual at the same time. It fell above her knee and was sleeveless, so she topped it with a white, casual blazer. It was the perfect mix of flow and structure.
Malia insisted that she wear gold earrings and bracelets to complete the ensemble, and Laurel left her hair in a messy bun because it added to the dressed-up-but-dressed-down feeling. At one point, Laurel asked Malia why she had all of these fancy dresses at the ranch, and she told her that she wanted options for her honeymoon. Right. She was taking time away from her wedding preparations to do this, and Laurel felt amazed all over again.
After the outfit was squared away, Malia did Laurel’s makeup. She had learned a thing or two from the professional makeup artists of Hollywood, and Laurel ended up transforming into a well-rested, prettier version of herself. When she looked in the mirror, she could not believe what she saw—a beautiful, capable woman that knew where she was going in the world. Except, Laurel still didn’t know where in the world she was going.
Laurel made eye contact with Malia’s reflection. “Hey. Even if this is it, even if we really aren’t going anywhere, I want to thank you. I guess I’m a believer in the power of makeovers now. This has been really fun.” Laurel couldn’t believe how much better she felt. The pain was still there, but this distraction had worked, and maybe that had been Ethan’s plan all along. Now she totally regretted ghosting him.
Malia grinned. “I’ve had fun too. But we’re all definitely going somewhere.”
“So you started saying we’re all …”
Malia raised a graceful eyebrow. “Oh yes—me, you, Jax, Skye, and of course Dillon because he has to fly the plane.”
The blood froze in Laurel’s veins. “Dillon is doing what, now?”
Malia cackled. “Actually, they should be ready very soon. Normally, he flies the small plane around here, so he had to borrow a slightly bigger plane from a friend.”
“Excuse me?”
Malia’s mirth disappeared. “Oh no, you’re not afraid to fly, are you? I promise, he does it all the time. It’s perfectly safe.”
Laurel wasn’t sure how she felt. She had never even been on a plane, but she was too embarrassed to say so. She hadn’t really ever thought about being nervous to fly, but now she was starting to wonder if she should be. And where were they going? Obviously not just to drown her sorrows at a fancy restaurant, unless that restaurant was in another state. And how weird was it that Ethan wasn’t coming with them?
Malia continued to assure Laurel that everything was going to be fine, and that they weren’t going far, all while touching up her own makeup. The red lipstick looked killer. Malia kept checking her phone, and at one point she left to change her jeans for a form-fitting black skirt to match her shirt. When Malia checked her cell for the twentieth time, she exclaimed, “Finally! They’re all gassed up and ready to go. Let’s get in the truck.”
Laurel let herself be herded like one of the ranch animals. They only had to drive a short distance to another part of the property where the rest of their party stood around a small, white airplane.
Jax held his hands out to his fiancée. “Babe, you are gorgeous.”
Skye stepped toward Laurel. “And so are you! Nice choice.”
“Thank you.” Laurel scanned the group. The twins had on slacks and button-ups—no cowboy hats today. They looked like two versions of the same model. Skye had on a deep blue shift and wore her blonde hair in a side braid. They were all in on the secret. Where were they going, an afternoon movie premier? Laurel couldn’t fathom why she would be invited, let alone why it would be a favor to Ethan.
Dillon ambled up next to Skye and grabbed her hand. Jax had been right, he was a bit paler than his brother. “I’ve logged the flight plan. We’ve gotta get going.”
Laurel stepped toward him. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me more about this flight plan?”
Dillon started to say something, then caught himself and smiled. “One thing I can tell you is that my brother likes you. He really, really likes you.”
Perhaps it was Dillon’s words, and perhaps it was the fear of boarding such a small plane, but Laurel felt that cloud-like feeling again. Everything that was happening was so bonkers, part of her mind detached from reality. When she was helped into a seat and told to buckle up, she absently wondered what use a seatbelt could possibly be in a plane. She put it on anyway, as well as the earmuffs they handed her. She was glad she hadn’t eaten any lunch as her stomach squeezed and they rose effortlessly into the sky.
The flight was intensely loud, hence the earmuffs. Dillon had a headset, and he spoke into it while he piloted from the cockpit. Laurel had never known a pilot before, so for some reason flying didn’t seem like something he should be able to do, and she was freaking out about being in a plane that was piloted by someone she didn’t think should be able to fly a plane. Laurel calmed her mind with other truths, like, she had never worn a designer dress before, and she was currently wearing one. She had never kissed a vet before last week, but now she’d done that too.
A veterinarian, a bunch of ranch owners, a pilot. The Wyles were sure a high-achieving family.
At some point, Laurel tried to ask Jaxon where they were headed, but he just yelled, “Sorry, I can’t hear you,” an
d winked at her.
She meant to pick up clues about where they were going, but the barren ground was pretty far away, and the sun didn’t always stay in the same place. Also, Laurel couldn’t decide if she wanted to look out the window or close her eyes. For about a half hour she felt like she was in a strange, loud dream. Where else but in dreamland would one of the cute cowboy twins from her high school randomly fly her somewhere with a movie star? It was like the Twilight Zone.
Before she knew it, the plane descended, her stomach dropped again, and they were on the ground. The air was a bit hotter here and Laurel could see desert hills, so they hadn’t gone to California. It was a small airport, and once they were out of the plane, everything seemed astoundingly quiet. The SUV that picked them up could have been powered by whispers.
Laurel thought that Ethan might be in the driver’s seat, but Landon was the one who greeted her with a grin. Kitty rode shotgun, so the gang was all here, minus Preston and Ethan. She noted the Arizona license plate before Laurel and the rest of their party piled in back seats.
There was a bubbly energy in the car, an excitement. Laurel thought she would die from the anticipation. Out the window, she looked for clues. They passed a store that included the name of the city. “We’re in Scottsdale?”
There were smiles all around, and Malia grabbed her shoulder and shook it. “Congratulations, detective!”
Laurel laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. I still don’t know why we are in this city.”
Landon yelled from the driver’s seat. “You’ll see. We’re almost there.”
They drove into a parking lot and piled out of the car. Everyone straightened their posh clothes, brushing out wrinkles, fixing collars. And then Malia and Jax took the lead and ushered the entire group down the street, around the corner, and to a row of art galleries. Smartly-dressed people milled along the sidewalks—people going to Saturday afternoon showings.
Laurel’s heart stalled. This was what they’d planned? They were they taking her to an art exhibit? Maybe they thought painting was like horseback riding and she needed to get back on the horse that had kicked her off. That must have been what they were thinking, but if there was anything she wasn’t in the mood for, it was stepping foot in an art gallery. The rejection was too fresh. Peering into the various windows, seeing the names on the signs, it brought all her former pain right back into her heart. When Laurel looked down this row of studios, all she saw were more people that would reject her. This was like walking through all her shattered dreams—and she was picking up fresh cuts.