When Stars Collide

by Sara Furlong-Burr

  “You’re early.” I wrapped my arms around his lean, muscular body.

  “Yeah, our little crisis was averted much quicker and more efficiently than I thought it would be.”

  Sensing his distraction, I pulled my body away from his, tilting my head to look up at his face, which was momentarily focused on something behind me. A subtle change in his expression, a falter in his smile, and the sudden loss of the sparkle in his eyes, easy to miss for those who didn’t know him, told me it was Peter.

  “Peter,” he greeted him, acknowledging my suspicion, “it’s nice to see you again.”

  I looked over my shoulder, locking eyes with Peter. “Phineas,” he returned the greeting, nodding, “glad you could make it.”

  “You look beautiful.” I turned my head to find Phineas once again giving me his full, undivided attention. He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, eliciting a sigh from Kirsten, who had a dreamy look in her glassy eyes.

  “Damn, you’re even better looking in person,” she cooed, somehow even more intoxicated than she had been when I left the table. Phineas and I shared a smirk. Across the table, Peter rolled his eyes.

  “Finish your premiere story,” Elle urged Phineas as we took a seat. “I need to know who else Mena mowed down that night.”

  “Seriously? You had to go there?”

  He shrugged. “Actually, I do believe I finished that story. The premiere was a raging success for Drake Publishing, and Mena and I parted ways and went home for the night when it was over.” He gave my thigh a quick squeeze underneath the table. Surprised by this unexpected move, I jumped, willing myself not to look at Peter, as he would know simply by the expression on my face what had really happened between Phineas and I the night of the premiere.

  “Boooorrriiiing,” Violet added, having moved from beer to hard liquor.

  “I assure you that night was far from boring,” Phineas responded, shooting me a sideways glance.

  Against my better judgment, I peered up at Peter, hoping he hadn’t heard that last comment. He had. And he looked just as sick on the outside as I felt on the inside. At least Tweedle Drunk and Tweedle Drunker hadn’t appeared to have heard or deciphered the meaning behind that last statement, saving me from quite a few awkward comments.

  “So, what’s Kira Capucci like?” Salvatore asked, steering the tone of the conversation away from the NC-17 version of the premiere story. I mentally reminded myself to buy him a drink later. Understandably curious, Connor and Luke leaned in to hear Phineas’s response.

  “She’s like every other celebrity I’ve met. Not as self-absorbed as you may believe, generous, and … friendly.” I nudged Phineas’s foot underneath the table.

  “And by friendly he means flirty,” I added. “I’m sure Phin could dig her number out of the trash, if you’d like.”

  Connor stared at Phineas in disbelief. “You threw away Kira Capucci’s number? Kira Capucci,” he expounded, pronouncing each syllable as though they were separate words.

  Phineas shrugged, much to their befuddlement, and it occurred to me just how deep his feelings had been for me even then. Instead of a night of wild, passionate, beautiful people sex, he’d chosen to spend the night with me, despite the uncertainty.

  “But she’s super-hot in person, right?” Salvatore persisted.

  “Sure, she’s good looking, but I’ve seen far more beautiful.” My face burned when Phineas turned to look at me.

  “Aww … you guys,” Kirsten slurred, just about sliding out of her chair. “Who knows, maybe we’ll be back here again in a year for another wedding.” She needlessly pointed at Phineas and me with her index and middle finger. Then, without thinking, she dropped her index finger, realizing that in doing so, she was now flipping off the table. With a giggle, her hand fell to her lap.

  “One never knows what the future may hold,” Phineas answered, inspecting me thoughtfully.

  The screech of a chair across the tile floor alerted all of us at the table that Peter had stood up.

  “Where are you going?” Luke asked.

  “It’s been a long day, and I’m pretty beat,” he answered, not even sounding the slightest bit tired.

  “But it’s only eight,” Luke protested. “Come on, drinks are on me.”

  “As much as I would love to drink my salary in booze, I really should be turning in for the night. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” He gave a quick wave at the table in response to the flurry of “Goodnights” from the rest of us, making it a point not to so much as glance in either Phineas’s or my direction.

  Elle and I exchanged a concerned look. My heart hurt for Peter and how unbearable it must have been for him to be at the table with us, only to have ultimately made up his mind that he couldn’t take it anymore and leave. I wanted to run after him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay between us. But I couldn’t. Because I didn’t know that it would be.

  “So,” Salvatore slurred, attention focused on Phineas, “I know we just met and everything, but is there any chance you could do me a solid and fish Kira’s number out of the garbage?”

  *****

  I sat on the edge of the bed, my thoughts paralyzing me. What had I been thinking, allowing Phineas to come here? What did I expect? That he and Peter would hit it off? That them being in the same room together would somehow provide the light I needed to figure things out? That my heart would tell me who to choose? Then again, why shouldn’t Phineas be here? We were together after all, weren’t we? No, I wasn’t quite certain what we were. I guess it was implied that we were together, although we’d never really discussed it in favor of doing … other things.

  The familiar spray of the shower suddenly stopped. Phineas would soon make his way out from the bathroom, meaning I would have to act like my normal Mena self to avoid raising suspicions that something was wrong. If I hadn’t already done so at dinner, that is. I’d been unusually quiet, which had only gone unnoticed because everyone else at the table had either been intoxicated or too focused on Phineas to notice me.

  “Mena.” My jaw hit the floor when I turned my head. Phineas’s muscular torso was still partially damp from his shower, and his towel hung dangerously low on his hips. A drop of water rolled down the length of his abdomen, touching my favorite part of his body, which was all of it. No matter how many times I’d seen Phineas naked, I was never fully prepared for the sheer perfection that were his abs, which were accentuated by his golden skin tone. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m good,” I answered, clearing my throat. I averted my eyes, choosing to stare out the window. That, however, did not have its intended effect. Phineas’s basically naked reflection remained standing before me in the glass, taunting me, making its way over to me, and … sitting down next to me.

  Oh, shit.

  His lips caressed my neck, creating a ripple effect that spread throughout my body, threatening to reduce me to a puddle in his arms. As his lips slid farther downward toward my shoulder, I let out a breath that carried the hint of a whimper with it. “I love making you moan,” he purred next to my ear as his hand made its way up my thigh and underneath the thin cotton shorts I’d changed into when he was in the shower. By this point, my breathing was so heavy I was practically panting with anticipation, knowing what was to come. But as into it as I was, the part of my brain that acted as my own personal killjoy became activated, and all I could concentrate on was Peter and the defeat written all over his face when he walked away from our table.

  “Damn it, Peter,” I groaned.

  “What did you say?” Phineas’s hand stopped just as it was about to reach its final destination.

  “Uh … I … said … damn that heater.” I jumped up from the bed, fanning out my shirt as I walked to the heater. “Is it hot in here, because it feels like it’s too hot in here? Maybe the heater was set too high? Did you touch the heater? What if I’m going through menopause already? Do you think that’s even possible? I’m sweating. Do you see how much I’m swea
ting? Damn, it’s hot in here.”

  Phineas eyed me warily, his furrowed brows forming a line across his forehead that made him look even sexier than he normally did. “There is a lot to unpack there.” He sighed, running his hand through his damp hair. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you need to tell me?”

  Sure, there were a lot of things I needed to tell him. I just didn’t know exactly what those things were yet. His eyes searched my face as I shook my head and sat back down next to him on the bed. “I’m super tired,” I offered, which was only half the truth. “With all the wedding excitement, the dinner, the rehearsal tomorrow, I’m more exhausted than I thought I would be.”

  “I’ll say. Just listening to you a few seconds ago made me exhausted.” He smiled an unusually small smile for him and nodded at the bed. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  “That’s a great idea, but I need you to do me a favor first,” I replied, noticing that, somehow, his towel had slid even lower down his hips.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to need you to put some … some pants on.”

  His smile was genuine now as he raised his eyebrow. “What if I wanted to sleep naked? I mean, I’ve gotten kind of used to doing that with you.”

  “Ugh,” I grunted.

  “Keep that up and I may do just that.” He laughed, leaning in and kissing me on my nose. “I’m joking. I’ll get some pants on.”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed about it. It’s hard as it is.”

  “Tell me about it.” He looked over his shoulder, grinning at me.

  “You’re taking no prisoners tonight.”

  “Now you’re just teasing me. All you have to do is give the word and I would very willingly make you my prisoner.”

  “Pants. Now,” I demanded, pointing at his suitcase.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “And with that, you’ve succeeded in putting my libido completely out of its misery.”

  His back to me, Phineas allowed his towel to slide down to the floor. With everything I had, I held my groan captive in my throat, rolling over so that I wouldn’t be tempted to look at him as he pulled his flannel pajama pants on. Moments later, the bed shifted when he crawled in next to me and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  “Goodnight, Mena.”

  “Goodnight, Phin”

  Soon, I felt the measured breaths of sleep striking my neck, one hot burst of air followed closely by another. I really was tired; I hadn’t lied about that. I just wasn’t fall-asleep tired. The kind of tired I was had metastasized itself deep within my body, clinging to my very thoughts. After everything I’d been through over the last, well, year really, I craved stability. The question was, where would I find it?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Wind whipped through my hair, promising to undo the curls I’d fought so hard to attain one curl at a time. In the driver’s seat next to me, Phineas’s contented smile told me he was relishing the fresh air. And, of course, not a single hair of his was out of place.

  Convertibles usually weren’t my thing. I preferred the tops on my cars and the bugs out of my teeth. But seeing Phineas light up like a kid at Christmas when he put the top down on the vehicle he’d rented, I couldn’t help but reconsider my position. As rich as the man was, as much as he could buy, it always seemed to be the little things that made him the happiest.

  Hargrove Gardens was every bit the oasis the pictures Elle sent to me had led me to believe. A winding river cut through an emerald green lawn dotted with gardens. Irises and tulips were in season, blooming brilliantly. The contrast between their purple and gold hues was striking. Even Phineas was in awe of the sight before us, one that was uncommon back in the concrete jungle we called home.

  “Being here almost keeps me from missing New York,” he said, gaping at the grounds.

  “Almost? I’d move here today.” That proclamation surprised even me, let alone Phineas, who responded to it with a wince he tried to hide by pretending to fight back a sneeze. “Of course, you know, that’s just not going to happen. My life is in New York.”

  His fingers brushed against mine, interlacing with my hand. A few steps farther and we crested a hill, where we found ourselves on a cobblestone path lined with dogwood trees at the peak of their bloom and edged with Virginia bluebells. At the end of the path stood a rustic archway constructed with bits of wood designed to look like twigs. It was in front of that arch that Elle and Luke would be married. And in front of that arch was where they stood now, along with everyone else.

  Well, almost everyone else.

  Phineas let go of my hand as we approached, taking a seat in one of the chairs set up for the ceremony tomorrow. He held up his phone to me apologetically, silently asking my permission to check his emails. Such was the plight of the successful business owner. I nodded my approval, not that he needed it, but it was still nice that he was concerned enough to ask.

  Everyone was milled about the archway in a tight group. Everyone except Peter. Not that I was looking for him. Not at all.

  “This is even better than your pictures,” I greeted Elle, who was standing in a group with Violet, Kirsten, and Alex.

  “I know! It takes my breath away every time I come here. Karen said I could come and visit any time I want after the ceremony.”

  “Karen?”

  “Karen Hargrove. She’s the owner of the property. She lives in the house on top of the hill up there.” Elle nodded to the white farmhouse off in the distance. I had been so preoccupied by the beauty of the grounds I hadn’t noticed it was even there. “It’s such a beautiful story. She and her husband owned this property. After he died fifteen years ago, she turned it into a wedding venue and sits on a rocking chair on her porch whenever there’s a ceremony to watch it. She says watching the love stories of others helps to keep hers alive.”

  Elle continued recounting the tale of Karen Hargrove’s life and the birth of Hargrove Gardens, but I had stopped paying attention by that point in favor of looking for the one person who wasn’t here. In another group, Luke stood with Salvatore and Connor. Next to them, huddled in a group of their own, Candy and Tom were chatting with Mark, while the little girl who would serve as the flower girl sat on the ground at Candy’s feet, making a necklace from clovers she found on the ground. With them was a middle-aged woman I didn’t recognize. Even farther off to the side, Amanda stood with Jackson, looking just as uncomfortable as I envisioned she enjoyed making others feel.

  “Are we about to get started?” I interrupted Elle’s story, having a pretty good idea that we weren’t.

  “Uh, no. We’re just waiting on Peter.”

  “Oh, he’s not here yet?” I hoped that I projected a believable amount of surprise in my voice.

  “He, uh, had a rough night.” I was certain she deliberately avoided making eye contact with me.

  A rough night? I thought he said he was going to bed?

  Violet checked her watch. “Well, I say if he doesn’t get here pretty soon, we should get started. His part is pretty much a no-brainer, anyway, and—”

  “Dad!” Jackson took off running down the path toward a slowly sauntering Peter.

  “Perfect timing. Too bad he couldn’t have made his grand entrance fifteen minutes ago,” Violet grumbled.

  I watched as Peter lifted Jackson up into his arms and carried him on his shoulders, grimacing in pain the entire time.

  “Dad, you smell weird.” Jackson plugged his nose as Peter’s face burned a bright shade of red.

  “How ya feeling, Monroe?” Salvatore laughed. Peter discreetly flipped him off behind Jackson’s back.

  By the time Peter reached Amanda, she was seething, only keeping herself together long enough to send Jackson off to stand next to our group before pulling Peter aside.

  “Someone’s getting a stern talking to,” Kirsten observed.

  “Now that everyone’s here,” the woman standing with Candy and Tom announced, “we should get started. It’s my understanding
at least one of the groomsmen is under a bit of a time crunch.”

  “No worries,” Salvatore assured her, “I’m in no rush to get back to the hospital.”

  “Okay, well, I’m on a time crunch, then, so let’s get this show on the road.”

  I eyed Elle, questioningly. “She’s the officiant,” she answered me.

  “She seems like barrels of fun.”

  Our individual groups broke up, following the officiant back up the path, with Amanda leading the charge in a huff. I peered over my shoulder to see Peter, straggling along by himself, and against my better judgment, I hung back to wait for him. The odor that Jackson smelled wafted from him as soon as he came within a couple feet of me. Although he’d tried to conceal it with cologne, the distinct odor of alcohol still managed to break through.

  “You’re not usually a beer person,” I said, falling in step next to him.

  He shrugged. “It’s cheap, and after a few of them, you really can’t taste a difference.” He glanced over at Phineas, who was furiously typing an email on his phone, completely oblivious to the world around him. “Book emergency? Is the plot thickening a little too much?” Peter chuckled, pleased with himself.

  “Don’t change the subject.” I sighed. “I thought you were going to bed last night? At least, that was the excuse you gave when you left the table.”

  “I was. I tried. I failed.”

  “Clearly. And your first instinct was to go to the bar?”

  “No. My first instinct was to go to your room. But we both know that wouldn’t have gone over well.” He glanced over at me as though trying to gauge my reaction. “And so, I went with my second choice. At least that option helped me forget about all the reasons why I couldn’t fall asleep, if only for a couple hours. It’s kicking my ass now, though.”

  “You could have come to me.”