Footsteps behind me make me turn. Ramon gives me a silent wave and sits beside me.
“Any indication they’ll wrap up soon?” he asks in a whisper. We should be out of range for the mics inside the building, but we don’t take any chances.
“I can’t tell,” I whisper back. “It took them a while to set up the shot where she opens her spell book. Something about a glare coming off the pages.”
Ramon just nods. His stare shifts from view through the window back to me. “You okay?”
I sigh through my nose. “Let me ask you something, Ramon.”
“Sure,” he says on a shrug.
I quietly clear my throat and choose my words carefully. “Can actors live anywhere they want? Anywhere in the world?”
He blinks. “What do you mean? Like when they aren’t working?”
“I guess, yeah.”
“Johnny Depp owns a private island in the Bahamas.” A notch forms between his dark brows. “Matt Damon lives in Ireland.”
Johnny Depp and Matt Damon have both won Oscars. They’ve been in like two million movies. They can do whatever the hell they want.
Iris can’t. At least, not yet.
“Where’s this coming from?” Ramon asks with a scowl.
I shake my head. “Just a question.”
“Hey,” Ramon’s voice pitches lower, and he leans into my space. His eyes are like a viper’s. “I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking, but don’t even go there, man.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m not. I swear.”
He doesn’t ease up. I don’t blame him. In fact, I’m so glad Iris has him in her corner right now. “She’s on an upward trajectory, Beau. You and I both know it. But even a rising star can get knocked off course.”
I grit my teeth. “Believe me, I know that.” I picture the three photographs on Mom’s dresser. The ones of her with the New York Ballet Company. She was the best of the best, and those pictures are all she has to show for it.
My father was the one who took all that away from her. I’d rather step in front of a bus than do that to Iris.
“If you know that, then why are we having this conversation?” Ramon growls.
I blow out a breath. My lungs work fine, but I still don’t feel like I’m really breathing. “She asked me to go back with her. To live in L.A.”
Ramon’s murderous expression eases. “Oh. Cool. Problem solved.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t go.” I don’t think Ramon knows anything about Mom, and I don’t need to go into it right now. “Family stuff.”
He frowns again, but this time, it lacks all the wrath he was giving me a second ago. I know from living through the storm with Iris that family is everything to Ramon. He stares at me for a long moment, and I think I even see compassion in his eyes.
“Dude, you can’t ask her to stay here.”
“I didn’t,” I say with force. “I wouldn’t.”
His eyes narrow. “Did she ask to stay?”
I huff. “More like flat out declared she was staying.”
Ramon rolls his eyes. “Iris.”
Both of us look through the window and watch her own the spotlight. Raven is doing some kind of spell, summoning power from above her while a bright green basilisk-shaped puppet writhes on the floor of the chapel. Iris said that later on, CGI will replace the puppet with an animation that looks like an actual monster.
But right now, her command of the scene is so intense, I almost believe I’m watching someone with supernatural powers face off against a giant serpent.
“She’s so damn young,” Ramon mutters. I glance over at him and realize he and I are probably about the same age. “She and Sally both.”
It hits me that I’m not the only one who’s staring down a broken heart. Ramon and Sally have been inseparable all summer. She starts her new job next week, and he goes back to California with Iris.
“Shit,” I mutter. “What are y’all gonna do?”
Ramon shrugs. “I asked her to come to L.A. She said no.”
Ouch.
“She says she’s been in school forever. She’s worked hard to get a position at this really swanky school in Edmond—apparently, it’s some richy-rich suburb of Oklahoma City—” I think he wants to sound dismissive, but all I really hear is pride. I know how that feels. I’m so damn proud of Iris. “She says she has shit to prove.”
I nod. I get that too.
Ramon whips his head back to me. “You can’t let her stay, Beau. You can’t hold her back.”
My gut churns. “I’d never hold her back.”
He pushes himself to his feet. “Good. She’s auditioning for a sitcom next week. And she’s got a really good shot at it.” He cracks a rueful smile. “And unless she’s had a change of heart about Swamp People, you can’t pull off a show from down in the bayou.”
It’s late. The crew wound up making reshoots until after dark. I stayed the whole time. I stayed and watched Iris, trying to burn every scene, every look, every smile into my memory.
We’re back at her place now, and I know what I have to do.
Iris knows something’s wrong, and I hate that. For her and for me. I don’t want to hurt her. It’s going to crush me to hurt her.
But I won’t rob her of her dreams.
I just have to keep reminding myself how young she is. It’ll hurt, but she’ll recover. And in time, she’ll see that I did what was best. That I was looking out for her. Maybe she’ll even forgive me.
She keeps watching me, her eyes alert and cautious. I’d say something, but Sally and Ramon are still shuffling through the house, tending to nightly routines. Ramon probably knows something’s up, but Sally’s oblivious, chattering away about the day and the fantastic dance scene.
It feels like eons ago.
I offer to take Mica out into the yard just to get some air. The night is heavy and cicadas buzz like chainsaws. Mosquitos dive bomb me almost immediately.
No peace out here. Maybe none anywhere.
“Hurry up, Mica,” I urge.
The back door opens, and I turn to find Iris in the doorway silhouetted by the kitchen light. The pale nightgown she’s wearing clings to her, its lace skimming her thighs. My dick pulses and my breath shortens before my heart sinks.
I will never have her again.
“You okay?” she calls.
I grit my teeth and brace myself to do the most awful thing I’ve ever done.
“I’m coming,” I answer, dodging her question. I’m not okay. I’m the furthest fucking thing from okay.
I follow the dog inside, and for a moment, I fool myself into thinking I can get through this without touching her, without tasting her one last time. But I can’t even move past her as she holds the door open for me.
I grab her, selfish bastard that I am, pull her full against me, crushing her breasts against my chest and gripping her ass to haul her up to my mouth. I kiss her like a criminal. Lips bruise. Teeth clash. Her fingernails rake through my hair, and I growl to keep from howling.
What wouldn’t I give for this to be the other way around? For her to be the one about to end us?
Unshed tears clog my throat, but I deepen the kiss, frantic, almost wild as the seconds bring us closer to me tearing us apart.
It takes everything I have to break away. We’re both panting. Aroused and raw. The thin silk of her gown does nothing to hide the outline of Iris’s nipples, and they beg for my mouth. My cock is an aching brick pushed against her belly.
“That felt different,” Iris says, lifting her fingertips to her lips.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. I’m such an asshole. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay.” She shakes her head and gives me a smile, but I know her so well, I see at once that it’s forced. “Should we go to bed?”
I’m not staying. I have to do this and go and never see her again. But I won’t break up with her in her kitchen. If all I can give her is her privacy, then she’ll at l
east have that.
Gripping her hand and memorizing the feel of it in mine, I lead us to her bedroom. I can hear Sally and Ramon’s muffled voices upstairs. I want Iris to have privacy, but I’m glad they’re here if she needs comforting.
When I close the door, silence seals us off. I look at Iris. I’ve had all day to think, and I still don’t know what to say. I don’t have the words to make this easier.
Iris grips the footboard. Even with all the shit swirling in my head, I notice with utter clarity that her knuckles are white.
“I-I screwed up, didn’t I?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I frown, edging back. “What? No.” If anyone’s to blame for how we got here, it’s me. I’m older. More experienced. I knew from the beginning it couldn’t last, and I still let it happen.
My one regret is hurting her. I wouldn’t take back anything else. Not a single moment.
“I did. I told you how I feel. I shouldn’t have,” she says in a rush. “It’s too soon. Too much.”
I’m shaking my head before she even finishes. I take two steps toward her but stop myself. “It’s not. Look—” I drag a hand down my face, frustration second only to the agony edging every one of my nerve endings. I may not have the right words, but I refuse to lie to her. “It can’t be too soon or too much because I feel it too. I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
Her grip on the footboard eases. Everything about her eases. “Why didn’t you?” Her voice is soft, reminding me of her innocence. Her youth.
She is light embodied. The brightest of all suns. I’m lucky just to be in her orbit.
“Because. You might be mine to love, but you’re not mine to keep.”
Iris’s face—the most expressive I’ve ever seen—closes down, her light dimming. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what we have isn’t meant to last.” Even as I say the words, I taste their falsehood. What I feel for Iris will last. It will remain with me for the rest of my days. But I can’t tell her that. “You need to go back to California, and I need to stay here.”
“So that’s what this is about?” she asks, frowning. “Me asking you to come with me? Offering to stay? Beau, I love you. I don’t want to give this up. Do you?”
A wave of anguish breaks over me. “Of course not,” I say, but the words are hollowed out. “But—”
“Then let’s try to figure this out,” she says, eyes widening in hope. Her words rush from her, urgent and grasping. “I can take some time off. I could stay here for a while until we decide on our next move. I’m sure I could extend the lease another—”
“Hell, no.” Fear chokes me, turning the words into a growl. Stay here? Extend her lease? Give up everything she’s worked for? It’s madness.
“I won’t let you do this,” I swear through clenched teeth. “This is your moment. And believe me when I say that a moment is more than most people get. I won’t be the reason you give it up.”
Iris steps closer to me, tenderness the only emotion in her eyes. “Beau, I’d never hold you responsible—”
“I would.”
“Beau—” She reaches for me. I step back.
“No,” I manage, yanking up a hand. I can’t touch her right now. I can’t touch her ever again. I won’t be able to go through with this if I do.
And I have to go through with this. Her future—her happiness—depends on it. And her happiness is all that matters. I refuse to be the selfish bastard in her life.
I clear my aching throat and force myself to meet her eyes. And goddamn it if she doesn’t look crushed.
Her happiness is all that matters. She’ll thank me later.
“I’m sorry, Iris. I hate hurting you—”
“Then don’t.” Her voice catches on don’t, her eyes wide and wet. It fucking kills me.
“I hate hurting you,” I say again through clenched teeth. “But this is over.”
“Beau.” My name is little more than a gasp. The color drains from her face, and I watch as she clutches her middle, as if crossing her arms over her most vulnerable parts could spare her the pain I’m delivering.
She’s so pale, I flashback to that first night—our first dance lesson—when I saw her for who she was and not whom I’d expected her to be. Someone loving. Someone fragile. Someone so innocent and funny and beautiful.
Someone unlike anyone else I’ve even known.
“I’m sorry, Iris.” I say her name one last time.
And then I’m gone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
IRIS
“We should go for a drink! Celebrate!” Lisa says. “I know I could use a margarita.”
I smile at my new manager. I really like her, and I am excited about the show. But I’m going to disappoint her because I don’t feel like going out.
We’re leaving Sunset Bronson Studios where I just signed a contract for the lead in Couch Surfing, a Netflix original series. I get to play Mamie McBride, a college drop-out who decides she needs to figure out where her life is going by spending a year hopping from place to place on what she calls her Airbnb Scholarship. Unfortunately, she has a tiny kleptomania problem.
It’s fantastic.
The writing is outrageously funny.
It’s what I’ve always dreamed about.
And I’m happy. Really, I am.
I just don’t feel like celebrating. Or, rather, I do, but the person I want to celebrate with—the one who gave me the courage to claim the career path I truly wanted—won’t see me. Or take my calls. Or respond to my texts.
I’ve seriously considered sending a candy-gram to his classroom. Apparently, I have no shame. Maybe a messenger pigeon would be more original.
Lisa and I step out of the high rise into the midday, L.A. sun. I shade my eyes and spot Ramon parked at the curb on Sunset Boulevard. He gives me a sad wave. I give him a sad wave back.
Ramon has been my lifeline the six weeks since we left Louisiana. I’ve been his.
Knowing he understands exactly how I feel makes this heartbreak just a little easier. Knowing he needs me around to cheer him up makes me put on a smile even when I don’t feel like smiling.
He hugs me when I reach him, and we both cling a little longer than normal. Because our bodies are starving without them.
And I’ve never felt this before. I miss Beau’s touch so badly, my skin aches. It’s like a fever without the heat. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold in Los Angeles.
We untangle from each other, but Ramon clasps my hand lightly, taking and giving support. He looks even sadder than he did this morning, and I know he spent a few hours on the phone with Sally.
We say goodbye to Lisa and get into my Altima. Something’s wrong, and as soon as Ramon settles in the driver’s seat, I don’t waste any time asking.
“What is it? Did something happen?”
My PA/personal trainer/nutritionist/body guard drags a hand through his hair. His neck and shoulders slump like he’s carrying a boulder.
“Oh shit, what did she do?” I was fully prepared for Ramon to break Sally’s heart. Turns out, it’s happening the other way around. I know Ray asked her to move out here, and I know Sally turned him down. But at least she didn’t break up with him. They FaceTime at least once a day. He flew out to visit her for Labor Day weekend, and she’s coming out here for her fall break next month, but the distance is killing him.
Who would’ve guessed it? The mighty manwhore taken down by the preschool teacher.
If she told him she can’t do the long-distance thing, I might have to bitch-slap my best friend for wrecking my other best friend.
“It’s not her,” Ramon says, staring straight ahead. He grips the steering wheel. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He looks devastated. I lay a comforting hand on his arm. It’s not enough and too much all at the same time. My eyes fill with tears. If he’s letting Sally go, at least I won’t have to resort to violence. “I’m so sorry, Ray.”
He whips his ga
ze to me, confusion in his eyes. “You’re sorry? No, Iris, I’m the one who’s sorry.” He swallows and shakes his head, guilt filing his gaze. “I’m taking a personal training job at a gym in Edmond so I can be with Sally. I hate to leave you, but I’m giving you my notice.”
My mouth falls open. I haven’t felt this level of shock since Beau ended things and walked out of my life.
How am I going to do this alone?
At first the panic is almost enough to drown me. But then I look at Ramon. He’s watching me with so much worry. I can’t let him down. I can’t let him feel guilty when he should be happy. And I wouldn’t ever want to stand in the way of his happiness. Or Sally’s. I love them. I want them to be happy.
“W-wow,” I stammer, struggling for a decent breath. “That’s… big news.”
He winces. “I’m sorry, Iris. I tried—”
I nod, swallowing. “I know you did.” Because this was probably an option all along. Just like I would have stayed in Louisiana with Beau if he would have only let me. I squeeze his arm. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
He’s quick to nod. “You will. I’ve got a stack of resumes for you to look at for someone new,” he says, brightening. “Some of them are really great. I already know who I’d pick if it were up to me.”
I’m still too busy processing the fact that Ramon is leaving to really focus on the idea of hiring someone else. “Sure... okay,” I mutter.
“And I feel bad leaving before you settle into your new place, but the gym in Edmond is the shit.”
I listed my condo and found a buyer almost immediately. And then I put an offer on the most precious Tudor-style cottage in West Toluca Lake. I close on it next week. It’s something I’m looking forward to. So are my plans to furnish and decorate. Having something to look forward to everyday helps too.
“And they want me to start before the end of the month, so…”
I stare at Ramon for a minute, and it strikes me that he’s waiting for me to say something, but the connection from my brain to my mouth seems to be suffering from gridlock. Finally, the words come to me.
“I’m happy for you, Ramon.” As I say the words, I realize they’re absolutely true. I smile at him. “I’m so happy for you and Sally.”
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