A Brand New Ending (Stay Book 2)

by Jennifer Probst

  It had to.

  “How bad do you miss him?”

  Mia sat across from Ophelia in the booth at Bea’s Diner. They’d decided to take some time and go to lunch to catch up. Plus, Ophelia desperately needed some girl time. She was feeling a bit moony, and there was nothing better than being able to bitch to one of your people. “It’s terrible,” she admitted. “I can’t believe in the span of a few short months it was like we were married again.”

  “Well, you are married.” Mia laughed. “And going to stay that way, right? What’s the plan?”

  “He’s got this big meeting today for the new script. It depends if it sells, where it shoots, how much he’s needed on set. But . . .” she trailed off, still swamped with doubt.

  “But?” Mia prodded.

  “But I know how Kyle gets when he’s passionate about a project. He says he’s coming back, but if they need him on set twenty-four seven? Or if they demand constant rewrites? He may decide not to come back for a while.”

  “He loves you. That’s evident,” Mia said. “You don’t think things have changed?”

  “I guess I’m still scared he may not choose me.” Ophelia lifted her hands in surrender. “At this point, I have to just trust it will work out for us, because I love him.”

  Mia reached out to clasp her hand. “I’ve never seen you so happy before. It was really hard for Ethan and me in the beginning, but once you realize the other person is the priority, choices are easier to make.”

  The words hit her directly in the gut, like a sucker punch. Mia had called out the very depth of her worry.

  “Yes.” She paused, then decided to tell her friend everything. “I read Kyle’s script.”

  “Did you like it? Was it good?”

  “It was about us. Our story.”

  Mia gasped. “No way! He wrote about you?”

  “Yeah, and I mean, he included everything. How we fell in love. Our life on the farm. His ups and downs with his dad. Our running away to California, and how it unfolded. It was so strange reading about us, but my God, it was good.”

  The emotions that seeped onto the page had her up late at night, unable to put it down. It was heartbreaking and real and honest. It was everything she always believed he could write.

  “Did he give you guys a happy ending?” Mia asked with a grin.

  “That’s the strange part. He did, and I expected to swoon and love it. But for some reason, it didn’t feel right.” The end had felt false—the first lie within the truth—and it had left a lingering bitter taste in her mouth. “I don’t know, maybe it was just me.”

  She heard her name being called, and turned. Albert walked over, dressed in his usual smart suit and wool hat, a beautiful carved cane in his hand. “Don’t want to interrupt a ladies’ lunch, but wanted to say hello,” he said, smiling and greeting them.

  “What are you doing here?” Ophelia asked. “Are you buying Bea’s pies?”

  It was well known Crystal’s had a pastry chef who was brilliant but very temperamental. Albert shook his head mournfully. “Alas, as much as Gerard keeps the restaurant at the top of its game, I’ve never been able to say no to Bea’s famous pies. But please don’t tell him. I’m afraid he’d quit.”

  She laughed with Mia. “What happens at Bea’s, stays at Bea’s.”

  “Please let me know that you’ll be dining with me soon. And Ophelia, I’m still holding out hope you’ll sing for me. Let me know if you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  He tipped his hat and left. Ophelia tried to concentrate on her salad, but she felt Mia’s gaze piercing into her.

  “Are you gonna tell me or make me ask?” she finally said.

  Ophelia sighed. “Somehow, some idiot posted my karaoke on YouTube, and it went viral. Albert asked me to sing at his restaurant a night or two a week. I promised Kyle I’d think about it, so I’m still considering.”

  Mia dropped her fork and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She looked pissed. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, but Ethan said you’re sensitive about the subject so I backed off. Now I regret it, because some things need to be said.”

  She frowned, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

  “For starters, I’m the idiot who uploaded the video to YouTube.”

  Ophelia gasped. Shook her head. “No! You wouldn’t do that to me!”

  “Do what? Show off the amazing talent God gave you? I wanted to upload it the night you sang, but I decided to back off. Then I overheard some people in town raving about your singing, and how they wish you’d do more appearances. So I just did it. Within hours, the stats went crazy. Last time I checked it had a bajillion views. Yet you still stubbornly hide yourself away and pretend you don’t want to sing.”

  Uneasiness flared. Kyle’s words had been haunting her, but she’d pushed them aside for a while, choosing not to think about it.

  “I like to keep my singing private. That video opened up a whole bunch of chaos and questions for me. I get stopped in town and asked if I’m going to record some songs, or if I’m singing locally. It makes things awkward.”

  “Why?” Mia demanded. “What are you so afraid of?”

  She stiffened. “I don’t want to deal with anything like what happened in California. I dropped out of a reality show because they were making me feel more like a piece of meat than a singer. They judged me and disapproved of me and poked me to see what they could do to make me look better, act better, be liked more. It was about everything but the singing.”

  Mia tilted her head. “You never told me about this.”

  Ophelia sighed. “I know. It’s just that, after I quit, everything blew up. There was a ton of gossip about me and I was written up in all the magazines. It was so humiliating. They called me a diva and tore me to shreds.”

  Mia gasped. “That’s terrible! Dammit, if I had been your PR rep at the time, I would’ve beaten them at their own game!”

  Ophelia smiled. “I would’ve loved that. Anyway, I swore I’d never sing in public again. It’s not about fear, Mia. I just don’t need that kind of stress in my life ever again. It made me question myself and my singing.”

  “But this is an entirely different situation. This happened when you were young, in California, pursuing stardom.” Mia sighed. “You’re so stubborn. Just like Ethan.”

  “Am not!”

  “Listen up. You stopped singing to protect yourself from the crap being thrown at you. I totally get that it was necessary at first, but now you’ve closed the door to any future opportunities, too. Why are you denying people the chance to enjoy your voice? Taking care of people is part of your calling, Ophelia, and your singing uplifts everyone. I don’t think you’ll ever be truly whole without expressing that love for singing to the world. But it doesn’t have to be on television or Broadway. It can be done quietly, right here, where you belong.”

  She stared at Mia, hearing Kyle’s voice echoing over and over with the same mantra. She’d been fighting public singing for so long, thinking it was the road to ruin, she’d never allowed herself to think outside the boundaries.

  She remembered the amazing freedom and pride she’d felt after singing karaoke; the flush of pleasure she’d gained from the audience’s enthusiastic response.

  She imagined herself at Crystal’s, in front of the piano. Singing songs she chose, the way she wanted, for the people she loved. In her mind, there would be no judgments or opinions. Just a quiet evening to share her voice.

  “You’re right,” she said slowly. “You and Kyle are both right.”

  “Of course we’re right. Just try it once. If you hate it, I won’t push you again. But I think you may find a piece of yourself that’s been missing.”

  “You training part time to be a shrink?” she grumbled, stuffing a cucumber in her mouth.

  Mia beamed. “I’m PR, babe. I counsel people all the time to be the best versions of themselves.”

  �
��Damn, you’re good at your job. Okay, I’ll do it. But no more videos unless I know you’re recording.”

  “Fine.”

  They gazed at each other and laughed.

  A few hours later, Kyle called. The sound of his smooth, rich voice made her heart ache with longing.

  “I miss you.”

  “Miss you, too. It’s too sunny here. I never noticed how many fake tans people have—why don’t they just go outside and get a real one?”

  A giggle escaped her lips. “What happened at the meeting? Did it go well?”

  “They liked the script. Want to buy it. They just had some . . . tweaks.”

  His hesitation spoke volumes. Immediately, her senses pricked up. “Big tweaks that change the story? Or little ones?”

  “They want me to add a subplot, which is standard for the industry.” Defensiveness poured over the line. “I don’t like it, but they’re making a reasonable request.” The tension in his voice painted a picture.

  Oh, he definitely wasn’t happy. Was he going to do it again? Let a bunch of studio executives tell him what his story should be about?

  “Did you agree?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah. I did. They’re also offering production credit. I’ve been trying for years to be listed as a producer, and now I finally have the opportunity. It would be crazy to turn it down for just a few changes.”

  Sadness coursed through her. She felt like she was reliving the past, but she refused to let this define what they’d discovered again with each other. “I read the book, Kyle. It’s beautiful and gut wrenching, and I cried. It’s everything.” She didn’t tell him about the ending, not wanting to discourage him.

  “I’m glad.”

  Why did his voice sound so distant? As if even this phone call was perfunctory, and he was itching to get back to work?

  Nausea roiled through her gut. She swallowed and tried to remind him about what they had discussed in the intimacy of their bedroom. “Remember what I said? Don’t let them take away the heart and soul of your story, no matter what they promise.”

  She waited awhile for his answer. When it finally came, she closed her eyes in disappointment.

  “I made the right decision. I want to see this story made, and Bell is a star director. They want to cast Liam Hemsworth! I’d be nuts to walk away.”

  She closed her eyes against the anguish, but kept her voice light. “Sounds like you got exactly what you wanted. I’m glad. How long do you think you’ll be out there?”

  His pause vibrated with tension. “Just a few weeks. I’ll try to fly in for a long weekend, but they’ll need me to stay close for a while as we get things moving. Maybe you can come out and visit while I’m stuck here?”

  “I’m moving into high season for the spring. The inn will be booked steadily for a while.”

  “Right.” Silence hummed over the line. “Well, I have to get to this party in a few hours. Don’t worry—we’ll make it work. Call you later. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She rested her forehead against the wall. Why did this whole conversation seem so damn familiar? She couldn’t be the one to make him walk away. It had to be his decision, on his terms, or she’d always wonder if deep inside, he blamed her.

  The familiar worry gnawed at her nerves, and an inner voice reminded her how, once Hollywood called, it was hard for him to say no.

  Mia’s words drifted in her mind, reminding her she’d made her own choices based on the past. She thought about her promise to Kyle, his urgent plea to share her gift.

  Wasn’t it time to challenge herself, too? She had a responsibility to be real with herself and admit she loved singing. It was time to stop hiding behind her past experiences and move forward—on her own terms.

  She had no control over whether Kyle came back to her, and she didn’t know if this second chance with their marriage would work. Though it would tear her to pieces to lose him again, she deserved to give herself her own second chance. To do something she’d always loved.

  She picked up the phone and punched in the number before she changed her mind.

  “Hi, Albert. I wanted to talk to you about your offer to sing.” She dragged in a breath and took the leap. “I want to do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kyle parked his car and began walking down Rodeo Drive. The hot sun beat down ruthlessly on his shoulders, and the stink of money drifted in the humid air. His mind sifted through the past few days, and he thought about how everything had changed.

  The other night, he’d attended his first party since he’d left. It was the usual potpourri of useful contacts and glam squads. Robbie had introduced him to the hot new casting director they were using to try to score Hemsworth. Endless women flirted and hung on his arm. Drinks got pushed into his hands, urging him to get drunk. Conversations swirled around surface niceties, and subtle cutting insults were shared with hidden glee.

  God, he’d hated every second.

  He longed for the scent of fresh hay and earth, the vision of clean blue sky and white clouds hovering over the majestic Gunks. He longed for the bite of cold air dragged into his lungs. Ophelia’s face haunted him, carving out an empty ache in his soul that cried out to be filled. Everything he looked at was shiny and fake—like empty calories gobbled up only to make him feel more ravenous.

  He was lost. He missed home. Missed his wife. Missed the old life he’d rediscovered.

  Could he grit his teeth and bear being in this lifestyle for the next few weeks? Maybe months? Traveling back and forth, caught between two worlds? Was the film worth it?

  All he’d worked for his entire life was finally being offered to him.

  The script of his dreams. Producer credit. Academy Award–winning director and a stellar cast. After this, everything would change.

  He thought of all the upcoming battles and stress, the endless nights of revisions while he fought to have his original vision remain. He thought of the love story he’d written that meant something to him and how, once again, he’d have to compromise to put it on the big screen.

  Then he’d steeled his resolve and made the only decision that made sense for him. The decision that his heart cried out for, no matter what he was giving up.

  He’d called off the entire deal.

  A small laugh escaped at the memory.

  Holy shit, Robbie had flipped out. Called his career dead in the water. Begged him to reconsider. Funny, it was so much easier than he’d thought to walk away and explain he was done with compromise.

  He didn’t know what was going to happen to the book or screenplay, or where his career would end up. There was only one thing he knew he wanted.

  His wife.

  He wanted to go home.

  The bell over the door tinkled merrily. The sharply dressed staff bolted to attention, exhibiting the perfect balance between anticipating questions and not seeming too hungry for a sale. He didn’t need to play games today, though. He walked up to the gleaming counter and spoke to the gentleman standing with perfect poise in front of the signature robin’s egg–blue wall of Tiffany’s.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yes. I want to see your wedding rings, please.”

  “Of course. Follow me.” The man walked to the next case. The gleaming sparkle of exquisitely cut diamonds winked at him and temporarily blinded his view. “We have a varied selection here. Is there a particular style you prefer?”

  His gaze swept the display, then stopped on a stunning platinum band encrusted with diamonds. His heart stopped, then resumed beating. His finger tapped the shiny glass. “That one.”

  “A perfect choice.”

  The man took it out of the case and laid it on the thick black velvet cloth. It screamed elegance rather than extravagance. It beat with pulses of romance rather than glitz. It was everything he’d always dreamed of in a ring for the woman who was his soul mate, and who’d refused to replace the cheap, tiny ring he’d scrimped and saved to give
her when he was eighteen years old.

  “I need it in a size seven, please. Gift wrapped.”

  “Of course, sir. Just a moment.”

  Kyle dragged in a deep breath, thinking over his last conversation with Ophelia. Thinking over the past two months they’d spent together.

  Finally, after all this time, he’d gotten it. Even to the very end before he’d left, he’d been selfish—telling Ophelia over and over that he’d choose her over his career, as if it was a gift he was finally able to give her. Every claim and reassurance he’d uttered had always revolved around him.

  He shook his head with a touch of shame. He’d never asked her the most important question of all.

  Would she choose him?

  It was time to find out.

  “How do you feel?” Mia asked, adjusting the final pin in her hair.

  “Like I’m going to vomit. I can’t believe I agreed to perform so soon. I figured I’d have a month to plan.”

  Mia laughed and stepped back to survey her handiwork. “You got this. Just remember this is low-key, and everyone out there is a friend. We’re all here for you.” Mia gave her a brilliant smile. “Go and enjoy yourself, sweets. Sing your heart out.”

  Ophelia smiled back, her muscles unlocking a few fibers. Mia was right.

  She was doing this for herself because she loved it. The venue was perfect.

  She looked at herself in the mirror, pleased with her appearance. With her hair pinned up and just a few curls spilling over her shoulders, and wearing a simple black dress with an elegant, square neckline, she felt like herself.

  Albert stuck his head around the corner and motioned her out. “Ophelia, you’re up. I just announced you.”

  “Thanks, Albert.” She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked to her spot at the piano. The chandelier drenched her in light, and it took her a few moments to adjust her vision before she introduced herself at the microphone.