by Zoe York
I’d spent the day alternately overwhelmed by ridiculous anticipation of what might happen between us, buoyed by a ridiculous hope, and berating myself for being so easily infatuated, so easily convinced there was something there. I’d been the one to push him out of my bedroom, so it didn’t make much sense that my heart was still squeezing at the thought of him, pushing me to hope for impossible things. My mind was the rational voice, the one I needed to listen to. It had been only two days, after all. And he was a friggin’ movie star. I was Tess Manchester. This was clearly not my life.
Now, as I stood watching Ryan’s strong firm body pressed up against the side of my sister’s lean petite form, all my doubts crystallized and hardened into facts.
It had been fun. It was a fling. It didn’t matter what he said—weren’t actors known to be flighty and unreliable? Actually he was the only actor I knew besides Juliet, so I really had no solid evidence, but it was easier to trust my own assumptions than to put any faith in something as impossible as Ryan McDonnell being interested in me.
I continued down the stairs and slipped through the hall to where Gran sat on the back porch, reading on her ereader.
“Hey there,” I said.
“Manhattan?” Gran lifted a silver shaker my way and nodded her head toward her own half-full glass.
“It’s a little early,” I said. “Gran, you need to be somewhat sober tonight. All these people are coming to see you.”
“Is that a yes?” She picked up a second glass and poured, handing me the brownish liquid with a smile that would have looked right on the face of a seven-year old sneaking candy. Gran’s spirit helped bring my mood up—it always had. Life wasn’t perfect for her, but she never failed to find the things in it that she could laugh about. I needed to practice that.
“Those magazine folks here to capture more of your sister’s silliness on film?”
I sipped the drink and pressed my lips together instead of spluttering. “Strong,” I managed, once I’d swallowed what felt like fire down my throat.
Gran sighed and put her ereader down. “Tess, I want you to be happy, you know that, right?”
I wasn’t sure where this was coming from. “Thanks, Gran. I want me to be happy too. And I am, mostly.”
“Mostly.” She cackled, her eyes clouding as she gazed out at the rolling lawn. “Hoping your life is mostly happy. There’s a greeting card sentiment for you.”
Just then Jack and Chessy strolled by, Chessy trotting contentedly at Jack’s side. They seemed to have come to some kind of understanding. I thought maybe Chessy was actually happier than I was at this point.
“I hope he’s not thinking of taking my attack chicken when he goes back to LA,” Gran said.
I was about to respond when a familiar—if not altogether welcome—voice came around the side of the back porch. “Hey, Tess, hey Gran.”
“Tony,” Gran said, her lack of enthusiasm for Tony Myers made more evident by the amount of rye she’d already had today.
“Hope it’s okay, me popping in early,” he said, pulling up a chair. “Thought maybe you could use a little help getting things set up.”
Something in me warmed at Tony’s nearness. He was like a sibling—one I’d always been able to trust, to rely on. But there had never been anything else between us, and I felt regret too, that I couldn’t be happy with the man right in front of me. I smiled at Tony, who’d been part of my life since Kindergarten. We’d been boyfriend and girlfriend once for about six minutes in seventh grade, and I didn’t think Tony had really ever gotten over the breakup. (Which involved me telling him that I wasn’t as much a fan of Angel as I was of Spike, and that our fundamental Buffy disagreement probably meant we weren’t a good match.)
He was a good-looking guy, really. He’d grown into his lanky build and had filled out, and his light brown eyes were so familiar I couldn’t help but feel a little bit at home every time I found my gaze on his.
Tony was a nice guy, he was practically family. And he had loved me and looked out for me my whole life. He was the one guy I’d ever known who didn’t prefer my sister to me, who didn’t wish I was her. He was the guy who’d come when my parents had died while we were in school, who’d been here every time I’d needed a friend.
And he’d only tried to kiss me seventeen or eighteen times since seventh grade. Tony had never given up on me.
As I heard Ryan’s voice roll from inside the house, laughter at something my beautiful sister had said filtering through the afternoon air to where I sat, I realized that maybe I needed to give Tony a real chance. Tony was safe, he was reliable and certain. Tony was the man I was most likely destined to be with—the fact he was a constant in my life seemed like a message from the universe. Trying to change it was like trying to change fate.
And that was pointless. No matter how much my insides jumped when I thought of Ryan. Or how completely still they were at thoughts of Tony.
“That’s so nice of you,” I told Tony, smiling at him and coaxing my heart to warm. “You’re always so thoughtful.”
Gran was squinting at me, her mouth twisting on one side in clear confusion. “Tess, really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, picking up my drink and finishing it in one long burning swallow. Unfortunately, the Luxardo cherry at the bottom followed the liquid directly into my windpipe.
I tried to cough politely, to coax the cherry from my throat, but it wasn’t working and I couldn’t get enough air to pop the thing out. I tried to swallow, but that wasn’t working either. My lungs began to constrict, panic starting to fizz at the edges of my mind as I realized that I was choking. People died from this. Every day.
A wheezing gasp came from my mouth as I pointed at my throat and swung my gaze desperately between Tony and Gran.
Fear swelled in me as my vision began to waver and I motioned to my throat, a horrible sucking noise coming from my mouth.
Tony’s eyes widened at me in horror as I mimed the Heimlich maneuver.
He shook his head lightly, looking from me to Gran and back again. Tony was not going to save me. I was doomed.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Gran said, rising and coming behind me. “Tony, you putz, I’m not strong enough, come here.”
Terror was spiking through me. I was going to die. Choking on a cherry.
At least I’d gotten to sleep with Ryan McDonnell first.
My vision was starting to black out when I felt Tony’s arms come around me, Gran’s voice distant but still sharp, telling him what to do. He squeezed me hard, once and then again. And the cherry popped out of its spot and flew onto the porch, landing with a plop.
I sank into a chair, sucking breath and then immediately launching into a coughing fit as Tony let go and guided me by my arm. My mind raced with the near-death experience, flying through all the things I’d been taking for granted. Air. Water. The taste of Wensleydale cheese.
“Holy cow, Tess. You scared me.” Tony was sweating and gasping as if he’d been the one choking.
“Jesus,” Gran muttered. “Now I need another drink for sure. Tess, Let me die first, will ya?”
I was coughing and gasping, happy to feel the air finally coming back into my lungs.
“Thank you,” I wheezed at them.
Tony grinned, looking pleased with himself, and took the chair next to me as Gran sank down and dropped her head into her hands.
“Fuck,” she mumbled, lifting her head to finish off her own drink.
“Sorry, Gran,” I said.
“I’m glad I was here,” Tony said, clearly congratulating himself.
“Me too,” I told him.
“Why?” Gran shrieked. “If it had been just the two of you, you’d be dead on the porch by now. Haven’t you ever taken a first aid class, you redneck?”
Tony’s jaw dropped open and I frowned at Gran.
“He just saved my life, Gran.”
“Bullshit,�
�� she said, shaking her head. “I saved your life.” She stood up, picking up her shaker and empty glass. “Don’t get old,” she said. “No one gives you credit for anything once you’re old.” She shuffled inside, shaking her head.
“Thank you,” I said to Tony, meeting his eyes and immediately wishing I hadn’t. There was so much longing and adoration there, it felt like a heavy coat someone had tossed over me that I couldn’t get off. It was smothering. And now that he’d saved my life? I’d probably never get rid of him. I realized I could never be the girl he wanted me to be and he’d never be the guy I wanted.
We sat for a little while as I regained my breath and let the adrenaline fade. Finally, I stood, thinking maybe I should try to give Tony a real chance. The guy had just saved my life. I shouldn’t make rash decisions in the aftermath of almost dying. Maybe if we spent more time together feelings would kindle.
“Tony, I probably do need some help, out here in the tent.”
I led Tony across the lawn and into the tent, where centerpieces needed to be arranged and placed, and place cards needed to be put in their correct locations according to the table map I’d spent hours making. I tried not to think about the last time I’d been in the tent, about the way Ryan had nearly kissed me in the doorway. Trying, however, was not doing. And my skin prickled and warmth rushed between my legs as I thought about the night I’d spent in Ryan’s arms.
Tony. I shook off my illicit thoughts. I needed to focus on Tony.
“Thanks for the help,” I said as we worked. “I really appreciate it.”
Tony grinned over the tables at me, his eyes shining. “Tess, you know I’d do anything for you.”
I did know that. And I willed my stomach to flip when he smiled at me, willed my blood to heat like it did when Ryan came near. But it wouldn’t. Of course it wouldn’t. Tony was just Tony. No matter how rational I wanted to be, my libido seemed ridiculously won over by the fact that Ryan was a movie star.
That’s all it was.
And of course I’d known Tony far too long to have those crazy feelings for him. It was unfair to expect them.
“Do you need a date for the party tonight?” Tony asked as we finished up inside the tent. “I’m going to head back home to get dressed, but I’d love to be your plus one if you’re up for it.”
I smiled at my old friend, torn between telling him the truth and potentially leading him on just to save his feelings in the moment. “That’d be great, Tony. I’ll see you in an hour.” It would be easier to see Ryan and my sister together if I had a fake date too.
He leaned down then and kissed my cheek, a sweet gesture I hadn’t expected. I smiled up at him as he stood back up, the smile I’d known since childhood on his handsome face. “See you soon,” he said, squeezing my hand and then turning to stride long-legged across the rolling green of our back lawn. My stomach churned at the hope in his face.
“You’re screwing it all up, Tess,” my grandmother called from the porch, where she sat with her second Manhattan of the afternoon.
Shit. Gran was going to be drunk, and I was screwing it all up.
Beside her, Ryan and Juliet stood, the camera crew just ahead of them and the reporter waving her arms and directing them to sit with Gran. Juliet’s eyes were on the reporter, her movie star smile glowing at full wattage.
But Ryan’s eyes were on me, and I felt my blood rushing inside my veins under his hot gaze.
Chapter 19
Ryan
I watched from the back porch as some tall guy emerged from the party tent out on the lawn with Tess, kissing her on the cheek and holding her hand before he left, sending a yearning gaze her way as he crossed the lawn back to wherever the hell he came from.
When Tess turned and saw me watching her, her eyes snapped quickly away, and she went back inside the tent, leaving me with a swirling ball of energy building inside my chest, making me unsure about anything. I didn’t even know what this feeling was exactly, but there were undeniable elements of jealousy and anger. And confusion—had I so totally misread the situation? When she’d pushed me away the night before, had it been for some reason I wasn’t aware of? Something more than I’d thought?
Because I’d thought she was just a little scared. Maybe a little worried about trusting something that was happening so fast. Maybe a tiny bit unwilling to believe I could be falling for her.
But I was. I had. Maybe at first sight.
“Ryan,” Juliet whispered, her breath a tickle under my ear. “I really need you to focus. If you screw this up now …” she trailed off and I pulled back, finding her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
Juliet angled her head toward where Alison was chatting with the photographer about the shot we were supposed to be taking.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
The photographer spent what felt like lifetimes getting the shot just right. I suspected part of the issue was that Gran was refusing to smile when they asked her to.
“Get some shots of what ninety really looks like,” she cackled.
“Gran,” Juliet hissed.
“I’m not some complacent old toddy,” Gran complained. “Can’t I look a little bit badass? It’s my birthday.”
Once the photos were done and Alison had taken the photographers out to the tent to see if they wanted to capture any photos in there before the party, Juliet leaned in to whisper again.
“My lawyers called while you were out. Zac is saying I cheated first, and he’s found three different men who swear we were together during my marriage.”
I didn’t know Juliet well, but I had no doubt she’d been faithful in her marriage. You could just tell she wouldn’t cheat. Plus, no one who cheated repeatedly on their husband would be as upset as she’d been the past week over the marriage ending.
“If they find out this is all a farce, it’ll just make me look like a liar. People won’t know what to believe.”
My heart iced over inside my chest. If we called it quits after the weekend or let things just fade, the media would certainly speculate about the reasons. “So we have to go on pretending.”
She nodded.
“For how long, Juliet?”
A tear escaped the corner of her eye and I reached up to wipe it away without even thinking about it. “I don’t know.”
The future I’d seen before me, shining and bright with possibility after this weekend suddenly dimmed into uncertainty. Tess knew I didn’t love her sister, but maintaining an ongoing pretense would mean going back to Los Angeles, keeping up appearances and photo opps. It would mean being away from Tess. It would mean honoring my contract with Juliet, securing my own future and my dad’s. But it would also mean giving up the potential I’d only begun to discover here.
“Over here, you two!” Alison called across the lawn.
Juliet took a deep breath and my hand, and I followed her down the porch steps, wishing for once in my life I could be in control of my future.
“Just a few more sweet kisses?” Alison suggested, and I considered maybe shoving her little notepad down her throat. Instead, I pulled Juliet Manchester into my arms and kissed her as convincingly as I could manage. She pressed herself into me, met my lips with hers, opened her mouth to my tongue. The moves were right—but everything about it was wrong.
“Oooh, that was a hot one,” Alison cooed as we broke apart. And that’s when I saw Tess, standing in the door of the tent watching us. Her eyes met mine for a brief second, and then they squeezed shut for a beat too long, and she turned and disappeared inside the tent.
“Shit,” I heard myself mutter. My muscles tensed and it took everything I had not to sprint across the lawn to her.
“Are all men complete morons?” Gran asked loudly from her table at the porch. She held up her ereader as if she was just asking a rhetorical question to the book she was reading, but I had a feeling the sharp old eyes didn’t miss much. And her mind missed even less.
She was right. I was a moron. But I w
as contractually obligated to be one.
Eventually, the camera crew dispersed for the afternoon and we were released to go get ready for Gran’s party. By that time, Tess had disappeared and even Gran had left her spot on the back porch. Caterers were bustling about the kitchen and event staff populated the lawn and tent, moving in audio equipment and setting up odds and ends. For what it was worth, the party looked like it was going to be amazing.
“I’ll come get you when I’m ready,” Juliet said as we parted ways at the top of the stairs.
“Okay,” I agreed, uncertain whether I’d survive the party.
“Hey,” she said, pausing outside her door.
I looked over my shoulder at her.
“Thanks for all this. I know it’s a mess.”
“It’s okay,” I said, but I didn’t believe it was anymore. It wasn’t okay to lie to the world and forsake my own heart and Tess’s. It wasn’t okay to give up a chance at real happiness—the first one I’d ever found—all in the name of a lie.
The weekend had been touted as a career opportunity by my agent. It had been a job, basically. And now it felt like I was being shoved down a path that I knew led to a sheer drop off or into a deep unswimmable lake. It led somewhere I knew I didn’t want to go, and I couldn’t seem to turn around.
When Juliet’s door shut, I turned and walked down the hall toward Tess’s room. Maybe if we could just talk for a few minutes, maybe if I could tell her everything now, in the quiet privacy of her room, then I could assure myself that I wasn’t insane, and tell her the kiss she saw had been more acting. More pretense.
