by Nina Crespo
Chloe had lunch with Nash Moreland and the dude had her number. Tristan worked to wrap his mind around that information as he cracked and whipped up the eggs. Well, he’d just have to get used to actors he watched in some of his favorite action movies having his girlfriend’s phone number.
Girlfriend. That was one of the things he’d plan to establish before he left, possibly over breakfast. But now wasn’t the time. Maybe at dinner that night? He was leaving in the morning.
Tristan glanced at Chloe who’d left the kitchen to pace the living room while talking on the phone to Nash. As he chopped up omelet ingredients, happiness for her good news intermingled with the nervousness of asking her to be his girlfriend. There were definitely reasons not to try a long-distance relationship, but he’d come up with just as many reasons for them to give it a shot on the flight from Maryland.
He and Chloe talked to each other so easily. They could continue to do that over the phone or Skype each other. If she was willing to fly out and see him when her schedule was free, he was more than ready to fly out and see her on weekends and longer when he could fit it in.
Chloe ended the call and came back to him. She was beaming with happiness. “I did it.”
He hugged her. “Just like I knew you would.”
She eased back and looked up at him with her soft brown eyes. “Thank you for all you did to help me.”
Her phone chimed with a call. “It’s Nash again.”
He let her go so she could answer it and went back to making the omelet.
“Hey.” She smiled as she listened. “A party... tonight.” Her smile dimmed just a fraction. “I have a friend in town. He’s only here for the weekend.”
Friend. The word as it referred to him needled Tristan just a bit as he poured the eggs he’d beaten into the now hot skillet.
“Bring him to the party? I don’t know.” She looked to Tristan, brow rising with a shrug as she posed the silent question.
She wouldn’t ask him if she didn’t want him to go and he’d spotted the look on her face. She wanted to attend the party.
“Sure.” He added the basil, tomato and cheese to the eggs in the skillet.
“We’ll be there,” she said to Nash. “Okay. See you then.” Chloe ended the call. She hugged Tristan from behind. “Are you sure you don’t mind going to the party with me?”
He flipped the omelet closed. “It’s related to the film. You should be there. I’m honored to go.”
She kissed him on his nape. “It starts at eight. That gives us lots of hours to be together beforehand, and we won’t stay late. Hey, do you have anything to wear tonight?”
Chapter Thirty
Fingers intertwined with each other’s, Tristan ascended the stairs with Chloe to the upstairs living room in Nash’s home.
Nash’s place was just as large or not larger than the guesthouse at Tillbridge. From what Chloe had told him, Nash was single. What did he do with all the space?
More questions filtered into Tristan’s mind. He was single, too, and the house he’d built suited him just fine, but was this the type of place she was striving to own in the future?
He glanced at Chloe. She’d chosen the same burgundy halter dress for the party that she’d worn the night they’d tried to share an intimate dinner at the Montecito. It showed off her smooth shoulders and toned bare legs. Instead of the ponytail she’d usually worn at Tillbridge, she’d straightened and curled her hair. Makeup made her skin appear even more flawless, and the red lipstick she had on made her lips look pouty and kissable. She was nothing short of stunning.
Good thing they’d gone shopping for him that afternoon. The distressed black jeans and lightweight black ribbed long-sleeved sweater she’d chosen for him fit with her. He’d wear the clothes again, and he’d probably even put on the black high-tops, every now and then, that she’d talked him into buying.
They walked through the upstairs arched entryway into the living room. A small party? There were at least sixty people, some of whom sat on the large black sectional in the middle while others mingled around the buffet tables against the side walls and the four bars positioned in the corners. On the far side of the room, a wall of glass gave a view of the clear night sky.
Chloe moved in front of him, leading the way as they slipped past people. Partway through the room, a blonde woman called her name. She let go of him to exchange hugs and air kisses with her.
As they moved through the crowd again, it became impractical to keep holding her hand as more people greeted her. She tried to pull him in for introductions, but no one seemed to be able to hear his name correctly above the noise in the room. By the time they reached the seating area, he’d been called Dustin, Justin, and Pete while others just ignored him.
Chloe squeezed his hand as she pressed herself against his arm and leaned toward his ear. She had a worried expression. “You okay?”
For her, he would be. Tristan looked at her and smiled. “I’m fine.” He pointed to the corner bar ahead to the left. “Do you want something to drink?”
“White wine would be nice.”
“I’ll get it. You mingle.” Tristan went to the bar. He got a bottled beer for him, a microbrew he’d heard of but never tried, and the wine for Chloe.
But when he turned from the bar, he’d lost her in the crowd that had grown even larger.
He searched for her for a few minutes, but didn’t see her.
People walked in and out of the sliding door on the glass wall.
Had Chloe gone outside? Tristan edged his way through the crowd. He looked left and spotted her talking to a group of people farther down the wide, lighted balcony overlooking a pool below.
When she saw him, she smiled and waved before being pulled back into the conversation.
Just as he took a step in her direction, someone clapped him on the back. Tristan turned.
It was Nash Moreland. In his action films, he’d seemed taller than Tristan, not shorter.
Nash smiled broadly. His teeth were almost the same color as his white button-down shirt. “Hey. How you doing? You must be Chloe’s friend.” Holding his own bottled beer, he went to shake Tristan’s hand but noticed the drinks. He clapped Tristan on the back again instead. “Glad you could come.”
“Anything to support Chloe. She worked hard to get here.”
“Yeah, she’s great and she’s talented. We all wanted her for the part of Jessica in Shadow Valley.” Nash tucked his hand casually into the front pocket of his jeans. As he drank his beer, he rocked back slightly in his brown suede-looking sneakers. From the looks of them, they were Converse All Stars. “And you’re right about her working hard. She went to this place in Maryland to learn about horses and came back a natural with all this insight. This afternoon over lunch, we were talking about the character I’m going to play. It’s the lead. I don’t know if you know that I’m playing the lead?”
“She mentioned it.” Tristan drank his beer and tamped down judgment about the look of self-importance on Nash’s face. Yeah the guy was trying to impress him.
“Well, she gave me this fantastic backstory for my character Montgomery. Dad was a rodeo star. Hooked up with a woman. She got pregnant. Pops didn’t know. Mom abandons the baby on his doorstep.” Nash tapped his temple. “That’s brilliant.”
Seconds caught in the spin of disbelief, shutting out the rest of Nash’s words. Chloe had fed his life story to Nash—something he’d never discussed with anyone outside his family—as a plotline over lunch?
Tristan glanced to where Chloe had been, but she was gone. Nash moved on, too.
Needing a minute to process his thoughts, Tristan walked to the railing and looked down at the pool where he saw Chloe standing with a group of people by the lighted pool.
She was laughing, carefree and drinking a white wine somebody had gotten her or that she’d gotten fo
r herself from the bar tucked nearby.
Nash joined her group.
Disappointment still pinged in Tristan’s gut over Chloe telling the story of him and his parents to Nash.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”
He looked to the petite redhead beside him. She flipped her hair over the emerald strap on her pale shoulder. “Are you one of the actors who’s going to be in the film?”
“No.” He gave her a polite smile. “I’m not an actor.”
“Oh.” She looked him up and down as if sizing him up. “So are you one of the producers or someone in charge of making the movie?”
“No.”
“An athlete then?” She mentioned it as if it was a last resort to a potentially unsalvageable situation.
He shook his head, and she promptly dismissed him and walked away.
Chloe’s laugh drifted up to Tristan.
Would she see him in the same way someday as the redhead who’d just approached him? That he wasn’t important enough? Or maybe she already did. She hadn’t valued that he’d entrusted her with the story about his parents. She should have at least called or texted him to see if it was okay to share it.
Down below, something was said that made the group laugh again. When Nash wrapped an arm around Chloe’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze, she didn’t move away from him.
Acceptance and sadness settled inside of Tristan. In his mind’s eye, he zoomed ahead, trying to see them together. What he saw was her growing tired of being with him. Just like at this party, she’d gravitate away from him to where she was happiest. To where she truly belonged.
Chapter Thirty-One
Chloe awoke to the sound of a zipper closing. She blinked, trying to clear the fog of sleep from her eyes.
Tristan’s just-showered scent surrounded her.
She sat up peering across the room illuminated by the light from the adjoining bathroom.
Tristan, already dressed in a gray shirt and jeans, stood with his back to her, packing his bag that sat in her favorite red chair in the corner of the bedroom.
He had to leave for the airport at six to make his flight. Panic hit like cold water in the face. She snatched her phone from the nightstand. It was five forty. She released an inner groan. She’d meant to wake up with him at a quarter to four, maybe share a cup of coffee before he left, and talk.
She had screwed up on time last night, too. She’d lost track of it and they didn’t arrive home until after midnight.
On the way back to the apartment, she’d questioned Tristan about why he hadn’t found her and made her aware of how late it was, and he’d said he hadn’t wanted to get in her way.
“Hey.” She pushed out the raspy whisper as she threw back the covers and got up. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m the one that has to leave, not you.”
The same tone of quiet resignation that had been in his voice last night after the party remained. She’d asked him if something was wrong, and he’d said he was just tired.
She hurried into the bathroom and took care of the necessities.
When she came back out, the closed bag was on the floor, and he sat in the chair tying the laces on his black boots.
She rested her hand on his back. “How much time do we have until your ride share gets here?”
“About fifteen minutes. You really didn’t have to get up.”
He stood, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “But I wanted to. You’re leaving.” The reality of that along with the unknown entity that had followed them home from the party drove her to rest her cheek to his chest, trying to get closer to him. “Tristan, please tell me what’s wrong and don’t tell me that it’s nothing. You showed up happy and now you’re not.”
As he stroked her back, the heat of his palm penetrated her sleep shirt. His chest rose and fell under her cheek with a deep breath. “We don’t have time to talk about it.”
“Make time.” Frustration made her release him and step back. “What’s wrong? Just tell me.”
“Did you tell Nash about my parents?”
Nash had mentioned meeting her friend when they were by the pool at his house last night. Puzzle pieces fell in place. Nash had told Tristan about their conversation over lunch about developing the backstory for Montgomery.
“Yes.” His direct gaze made her fidget in place. She tugged at her sleep shirt. “But I didn’t tell him it was you.”
“You shouldn’t have told him at all. Damn it, Chloe. My past isn’t some make-believe scenario for someone to act out like they understand it. It’s my life. It’s real to me and I told you because I thought what we shared together was real. But I guess in this world that you live in, you can’t tell the difference between a script and reality.”
Echoes of what he’d said to her when they first met about acting and reality reared up, creating a nasty cocktail of guilt mixed in with more frustration. “I’m sorry, but you’re not being fair. Yes, I should have thought it through, but it wasn’t like that. I just got caught up in the excitement of the project. We all want this film to do well.”
“And I completely understand.” He bent down and picked up his bag. “Nothing mattered to you but getting the part in the movie, and now that you have it, nothing matters but the movie and whatever else it leads to in your career. You’ve made your priorities clear. There’s no need to drag out what should have ended when you left Tillbridge.”
* * *
One long flight later, Tristan walked into the guesthouse. As surly as he felt, he still greeted the receptionist and smiled at guests as he walked past the desk through a small sitting area with navy sectionals sitting in front of a built-in electric fireplace in the wall.
Through the open restaurant doors in front of him, guests and local customers filled the restaurant for breakfast.
He turned right and walked down the corridor with restrooms and a gold-tiered literature stand filled with brochures of places and activities in the local area. At the end, he knocked on the plain wood door.
“Come in.” Zurie called out behind it.
She sat at an oak desk in the well-cared-for brown leather chair that had been her father’s tapping on her computer keyboard, absorbed in something on the wide-screen computer.
An inbox sat on one top corner and an out-box on the other. The wide-screen computer and one short neat stack of files were the only other items. A filing cabinet sat tucked in the corner behind her next to a tall green plant. On the opposite side of the office sat a small round meeting table with navy padded chairs, matching the two sitting in front of her desk.
What the neat, efficient-looking, modern space lacked in decor, the windows with a view of cut lawn and trees lining the property made up for it.
A few hours ago, when he’d landed in Baltimore from California, several texts and voice mails from Philippa and Gloria had been on his phone telling him that Zurie had come home.
One voice mail had been from Zurie, telling him she wanted to see him at seven that morning.
“Hey.” She glanced at him briefly and gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute. I just need to finish reviewing this letter Jess typed up.”
Her virtual assistant, Jess, lived on the West Coast. Despite the time difference and the distance, the two had made it work. Jess had been with her for years.
He set his phone on the edge of her desk and took a seat in one of the chairs.
A minute or so later she turned her attention to him. “How was your trip?” Zurie leaned back in the chair.
Tristan settled more into his. “Productive.”
She raised a brow. “And last minute.”
“Seems to be the trend around here.”
Her eyes narrowed a bit as she studied hi
m. “Business reasons are one thing. Personal are another. You seem to lean toward the latter.”
Still recovering from what happened with Chloe and a sleepless night, he wasn’t in the mood to spar or explain himself. Tristan went all in. “Stop poking around whatever you want to say to me and just say it.”
“All right, if that’s the way you want it. I’m supposed to sign papers next week giving you ownership in the stable.” As she sat back in the chair, she lifted her hands in a partial shrug. “You running off twice since I left you in charge raises concern.”
“About?”
“What these past two years were all about. Exploring your commitment to the stable.”
Exploring? That’s what she was calling it now? “No.” He sat back ready to dig in. “That’s not what me working with you has been about. It was a loyalty test and I passed. I’ve given you and Tillbridge nothing but my commitment for the past two years. You calling me going away twice, for a few days, while delegating tasks to more than capable people is a problem with you, not me.”
Zurie expression cooled to all business as she leaned forward. “And that’s where you’ve always been short-sighted about all of this. You see a loyalty test or me questioning your capabilities. I see you doing the same things you did before you left: avoiding calls, reconnecting with your bull riding buddies, running off to do who knows what and why.” She stabbed her finger into the top of the desk as her voice raised. “I don’t have time to figure you out. The job of running this place is bigger than you and me. It’s about protecting Tillbridge...and the people here that you should care about.”
Should care about? Just as he was about to go on the defensive, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he caught a glimpse of a younger Zurie. The one he’d had to leave to protect. Emotional pain beyond guilt pierced into him as he hurt for that version of her. She’d weathered storms, just like he had, doing what she just said, protecting Tillbridge when he couldn’t. He’d done a lot of things trying to make up for it...except one.
