Desperate Times (Silver Ridge Series Book 2)

by Emily Goodwin

  I’m halfway through the first chapter when a text from Archer comes though Sam’s computer.

  Dude you’re killing me over here. What did Chloe say??

  I lean back, teeth sinking into my lip. What? I need to—no. I’m not going to snoop. I trust Sam and have no reason to go through and read his text. But—what? What did I say to what?

  “It doesn’t matter,” I mumble out loud and hold up my hand, shielding the messages from view. I change the settings on his iMessages, making it so I won’t see the preview of a message on the right-hand side of the screen, and then try to get back to work.

  “Dammit,” I grumble at myself. Sam probably didn’t think about me being able to see his messages like this. I’m not going to do it. Nope. Not snooping. I let out a breath once I successfully get it so his iMessages won’t show up on his computer, and bury myself back into edits, wishing I had a glass of red wine. It’s my go-to when I’m editing, making me feel sophisticated, which I know is silly. But hey, it helps me get the job done.

  I’m feeling sleepy again after another hour, and wanting to stay true to my word, I close my laptop and lay back down on the couch. Fifteen or so minutes later, I’m still awake, so I turn on the TV and try to relax. Not even ten minutes later, my phone rings.

  “Ugh,” I complain out loud as I slowly sit up. Farisha is calling me, and my annoyance instantly disappears.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Instagram just notified me you posted,” Farisha starts. “Which prompted me take a look at some of the comments, and why are people asking if you’re still in the hospital?”

  “Ohhhh, right.”

  “Why are they asking you that?”

  “Because I was.” I wince even though she can’t see me.

  “The fuck? You didn’t think to tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to tell anyone,” I confess. “I wouldn’t have even told my dad if Sam didn’t think I should let him know what was going on.”

  “Sam knew?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I chuckle. “He’s the one who insisted I was so sick I needed medical attention. Which I didn’t.”

  “Obviously you did if you were admitted to the hospital!”

  “Well, maybe. Technically, I was admitted due to a bad reaction to medication that made my blood pressure go so low I could have been mistaken for a corpse. But I’m better now. Almost. I’m still a little tired, but Sam is forcing me to take it easy.”

  “Chloe!” Farisha exclaims. “Oh my god! You had an allergic reaction that bad? Fuck you again for not telling me!”

  “You know I don’t like making people worry.”

  “I do. So…what the hell happened?”

  “I had the flu, which caused a high fever and then a migraine. But I promise I’m fine now. I’m back at Sam’s apartment in Chicago and I’ve hardly done shit all day so I’m fine, trust me.”

  “Is Sam with you?” Farisha asks, and I roll my eyes.

  “He’s at work, and my dad already called and demanded answers from him. He’ll tell you the same thing: I’m doing really well.”

  “My goodness, Chloe. That’s good to hear. Still, I don’t like having to find out my BFF is super sick from a social media post.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s weird to me to send out a massive text or whatever. And the only reason I posed on Instagram at all is because I had to cancel a live interview last minute and I had my assistant tell everyone I canceled because I was sick.”

  “Fair enough. You’re in Chicago?”

  “Yes. I’m sitting on Sam’s couch as I speak.”

  “And he’s at work?”

  “Until seven PM, yes,” I reply.

  “You’re really okay? I don’t just mean physically.”

  “I’m fine,” I rush out. “And if you were wondering about Sam, he’s been very attentive. And yes, I do mean sexually.”

  “You’re so good at deflecting legitimate issues, it’s concerning.”

  I let my eyes fall shut. “I know. Really, though, I’m okay. The medicine they gave me for my headache made me sick. If I hadn’t had the bad reaction to that, I’d have been discharged that night. I’m still really tired, so I’ve been taking it easy today for real,” I press. “Sam has already called, texted, and left me a note this morning telling me to relax and rest.”

  “Good. I hope you are, and holy shit, I’m behind on Sam details.”

  I beam at the thought of him. “You really are.”

  “Things are good between you?”

  “Yes,” I answer right away and then feel a nagging on my heart. “But…he’s been acting kinda weird lately.”

  “Weird how?”

  “Like he’s nervous yet really affectionate. A few times he said he wanted to be alone, like so he could talk to me, and things didn’t go as planned.” I inhale as I blink. “And today I was using his computer and a text came through from his friend that said what did Chloe say?” I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “And no, I wasn’t being nosy. I asked him if he minded me using his computer so I could look back and forth between my document and the notes my editor sent me. I immediately disabled iMessages from popping up on the screen while I worked,” I rush out.

  “That is weird,” Farisha agrees. “Do you think he’s going to propose?”

  Her question throws me a bit. “Already? We’ve only been officially dating for a few weeks now.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve been in love with each other for years. I totally think it’s too early, but if you’re the one for each other, why wait?”

  “I, uh, I guess.” I try to keep hope from bubbling up in my chest. “I might have thought that already,” I confess, thinking back to him sitting across from me at the hospital. The emotion in his eyes…the way he was so nervous at the mention of us becoming a family. Was it because he wanted to ask me to marry him?

  To officially start a family of our own?

  “Hang on,” I say. “You think he’s going to propose?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea, but that’s the first thing I thought. What would you say? I’m sensing shock on your end.”

  “Oh, yeah, I would be shocked, but I’d say yes,” I answer with no hesitation. “You’re right. I have loved him for a very long time.”

  My own phone chimes in my ear and I pull it away to see a text from Sam. “Holy shit, Farisha. That’s Sam. He said he wants to go for a walk along Lake Michigan before I have to leave tomorrow for LA.”

  “Are your nails done?” she asks with a laugh.

  “I don’t want to jinx it. It’s soon. Sam probably isn’t sure about spending forever with me yet.”

  “He’d be crazy not to. You’re a catch, Chloe. I’ve told you a thousand times, if I didn’t like dick so much, I would have a crush on you.”

  “Hah,” I say, smile breaking out over my face. “Oh my god. Oh. My. God.” I stand up and stride to the window, fighting hard against the excitement that’s building inside of me. “I…I love him so much,” I blurt.

  “I know you do. Do you know how annoying it was to stand back and watch you two play the Ross-and-Rachel game for years?”

  “Probably just as annoying as it felt to be so close to Sam telling me how he felt only to have him push me away.”

  “Hah, true. Ahhh, Chloe!”

  “Don’t get too excited,” I tell her. “We have no idea what’s going to happen tonight.”

  “Right. Okay, breathe. And yes, that’s a reminder to myself.” A baby starts crying in the background. “Oh, and for the sake of transparency in our relationship, since I’m clearly the only one who knows how to be honest, I stopped taking birth control this month. Fingers crossed I don’t get pregnant any time soon.”

  “They why’d you stop taking your pills?”

  “Because at the time it sounded like a good idea. Now everything annoys me.”

  “Are you sure you’re not already pregnant?”

  “I’m literally bleeding out of my vagina as we speak.�
��

  I laugh. “I will be soon too, so we can be almost cycle sisters again,” I say.

  “How did we get messed up on that? We’re always together.”

  “We are,” I say as it dawns on me. I’ve never had a super reliable period, but it’s been pretty constant in coming once a month. I mentally count back to the last period I had and realize that—fuck—I’m officially late.

  22

  Chloe

  “Hey, lady!” Karina says with way too much pep. I thought for sure I’d get tons of sleep today, but it’s turning out to be just as unrestful as the hospital, though I have napped on and off throughout the day.

  “Hey,” I reply.

  “You sound sick. Is everything okay? Do I need to cancel tomorrow?”

  “No,” I assure her. “I’ll be there. I was almost asleep when you called.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Chloe. Do you want to call me back later?”

  “It’s okay.” I sit up, blinking as I look out at the city below. The sun is setting, and I’ve been on the couch pretty much all day. Sam will be home soon, and I want to have something ready for him for dinner, so it’s a good thing Karina called and woke me up. “What is the plan for tomorrow?”

  “I was thinking we could stage a little something-something between you and Charles to get the media talking again, speculating you two are back together.”

  “But that photo of me with Sam just came out.”

  “Exactly.”

  I can see her smiling as she talks, and a bad feeling sinks in the pit of my stomach. “Why would I pretend to be dating Charles when I’m happy with Sam. I’ve been posting about him on social media and everything.”

  “I know. It’ll get people talking. They’ll speculate for a few days and them come back to the conclusion you two are friends.”

  I wrinkle my nose. This is only one of the few times I’ve disagreed with Karina on something. I have no doubt acting out this plan will get us exactly what we want, but at what cost? Sam doesn’t know the truth about Charles, and I don’t want to betray the trust Charles and I have in each other to tell Sam the truth before Charles is ready…though…then again…I trust Sam not to say anything to anyone.

  “Can’t we dress like the characters and walk around downtown LA instead?” I ask.

  “You already did that,” Karina shoots right back.

  “What if I dressed like Marcus and he dressed like Kellie?”

  “Hmmm,” Karina muses while she thinks. “I kind of like that idea. Let me talk to my assistant and see if she can get gender-bending costumes ready for you two. It’s on brand with the series, actually. Breaking out of the mold and all.”

  “Yes.” I smile and let out a breath of relief. “It’s very fitting. Maybe we could create a hashtag and have people show off their own Nightfall cosplay or something? Winner gets an early signed copy or a dinner with Charles?” I don’t feel bad for pimping him out that way. He eats that kind of attention up. Charles really is a good guy but isn’t ashamed to admit a big selling point for him on becoming an actor was the fame and adoration from perfect strangers.

  “You know what…that’s brilliant, and I think I know how I can spin this. What about you guys dress up as villains from the series and walk around downtown, interacting with people, and we can stage a few interviews. It’ll get you trending, that’s for sure.”

  “That sounds fun,” I say, thankful Charles will be there with me to take the lead. “Rebecca is booking my flight for late tonight, so do you want me to come to your office in the morning?”

  “Let me iron out some details and then I’ll text you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Yay! It’s going to be great tomorrow, Chloe!”

  “Yeah, it will be.” I smile as I end the call, mind getting a little ahead of itself. I imagine showing up tomorrow with a sparkling ring on my left hand, and if Charles and I are photographed together with that bling, people will suspect we got engaged.

  Then I can drop the bomb on everyone with a cleverly written caption to a photo of Sam kissing me, of course. I try not got get too preachy or overly sappy on my social, but a quick few sentences about how facing adversity and love surviving years apart will be perfect.

  I put my phone on the coffee table and get up, going into the kitchen and rooting through Sam’s fridge and pantry for something to make for dinner. I ordered groceries before we left, and most of the food is still fresh. Wanting to make something easy, I decide on chicken parmesan and spaghetti. I set out the dry ingredients and mix up the parmesan, breadcrumbs, and spices, getting things all ready for when Sam comes home.

  Sam texts me as I’m straightening up the kitchen, making sure that I’m—again—resting and taking care of myself. It’s nice, of course, to have someone care this much. It’s even nicer to have someone more than willing to go above and beyond to make me as comfortable as possible when I feel like shit. I remember both Dad and I doing the same thing for Mom when she was really sick, but it scared me. Because Mom was independent. She was the one who made sure I was myself, who told me never to be ashamed of who I was. To hold strong and fast to my beliefs and take no shit for being different.

  She and Dad knew about the cancer for years before they told me, with the hope she’d go into remission and be fine. But I think Mom knew, deep down, that she wasn’t going to make it through and that’s why she started instilling those strong beliefs and pieces of wisdom on me from a young age.

  It’s been years since she died, and I still miss her just as much every day. I wish she were here now, to see how Sam and I finally came together, how everything is working out perfectly in my life. Too perfect, in my eyes, and I know Mom would laugh and tell me to accept things for what they are. Don’t go looking for a problem, she’d tell me. Or you’ll find one that wasn’t there to start with.

  It took me years to understand that advice, even though she repeated it over and over. I was too young to get it at first. How could you find a problem that wasn’t there? That didn’t make sense.

  Yawning, I go back into the living room heart a little heavy. I get comfy and pull the blankets over my shoulders. My eyes are closed for only minute before my phone rings.

  Grumbling, I sit up and see it’s my agent calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey! How are you feeling? I can’t believe you got so sick so fast!” Vanessa asks.

  “I’m doing much better now.”

  “Great! Is this a good time? You’re home and on the mend, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m home, well, at my boyfriend’s house in Chicago but it’s kinda like home now.” The words leave my lips with ease, and I smile. This does feel like home.

  “Good. I spoke to the network again and they really want you. Like really. We can easily push for more money and a much better contract. And I was able to get them to work with us on the whole issue of using your name on something you didn’t actually write. They asked if you’d be okay with having in collaboration with Chloe Fisher for the other seasons, and I went ahead and told them you’d only agree to that if you were actually in collaboration with them. So you have the option to sit in the writers’ room and give final approval, or they’ll scratch your name completely once you’re not writing for them anymore.”

  “Oh wow.”

  “Yeah. They really want you, Chloe. I think they’ll end up agreeing to keep you on, and if season one is a success, I want to be able to fine tune the contract for the remaining seasons. We’re talking bigger payday and creative control.”

  “Wow,” I repeat, sitting up straighter. My heart skips a beat, and I don’t know what to think. It’s a good deal. A great opportunity. Anyone would be thrilled to death to get this kind of offer…but the details didn’t work out, and now that I’m hearing Vanessa got things ironed out, I’m feeling almost disappointed. “That pretty much takes care of everything I had an issue with.”

  Well, except for the whole I have to stay in LA thing. Sam and
I can make it work, I’m sure of that. The flight between Chicago is at the most five hours. It’s manageable. I love him and he loves me…and if he really is going to ask me to marry him, then this is just a small blip on our radar for being together forever.

  “And there’s one more thing,” Vanessa says, trying hard not to let her excitement be known. “They want you to direct an episode or two.”

  “What?” I heard her but—what? “I don’t know anything about directing.”

  “I know, and you will be guided through it. It’s a PR move more than anything, but you will be listed as the director and will get an impressive amount of say in how the episode goes. This could be next level for you, Chloe. Nightfall has done amazing and you have a good reputation in the world of publishing. Get in good with the producers and directors and you are golden.”

  I lean back against the couch, mind racing. My last “in” to the elite circle of producers was going on a date that ended horribly and being slung through the mud on Twitter—all because I refused to let said asshole grope me in public.

  “Wow,” I say for the third time, at a total loss for any other words. “That sounds amazing.”

  “Yes! I was hoping you’d want to move forward and discuss details. The first few episodes are going to be shot overseas, so how do you feel about living abroad for half a year?”

  23

  Chloe

  “Chloe,” Sam breathes as soon as he walks through the door. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” I smile, debating holding up the pretense that I put minimal effort into my appearance, but that’s not true. Sam saw me at my very worst this weekend and is smart enough to know I curled my hair and put on makeup. “How was the rest of your day at work?”

  “All right.” He takes his shoes off and pushes them into the foyer closet. “Did you cook?”

  “I did.” The smile is back on my face. “It’s nothing fancy, just parmesan chicken with spaghetti. I kind of forgot about ordering breadstick to go along with this.”