by Nicole Helm
Celia opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She had no excuse, and even an apology seemed lame at this point. “Well, you were pushing for telling my story anyway.”
“Okay, so we can agree you weren’t thinking. We can agree this was one big huge ginormo mistake, and that it will never happen again. Because if we had told my way things would be fine, but this isn’t my way, damn it.”
In possibly the strangest moment of her life, a life that had a lot of strange moments, she realized something about her friendship with Aubrey. She’d built this Hollywood life with Aubrey at her side. They’d built this persona while Aubrey promoted it in the press. They’d become friends, trusted partners.
And Aubrey was exactly like Ryan.
At least like the Ryan she’d seen this time around. Still bossy and determined to get his way, but he’d at least acknowledged that she might have something to say about her choices. Well, sometimes. Celia dropped onto the couch next to Aubrey, looking at the ceiling.
She couldn’t breathe right or think straight. She’d been so hopeful this morning. Everything had seemed possible, and now she didn’t know how to deal with anything else.
“I only found out Ryan and I were still married a few weeks ago.” She took a deep breath. “I…I thought I could handle it myself. I just had to film this show for a week and then he’ll give me an annulment. Quietly.”
“Damn it, Celia.”
“Can you fix the stuff with my mom?” she asked quietly. If Aubrey could fix this, maybe Celia would have the mental and emotional energy to fix whatever there was between her and Ryan. If there was anything left after she pushed him away.
“Or die trying. That horrible excuse for a human being you call a mother isn’t going to beat us.” Aubrey tapped at the screen of her tablet. “But I need to know what I’m working with. Everything I’m working with. Every secret. Every marriage. Where you are. Where you’ve been. No stone unturned. Not one, no matter how much you want to keep it secret or how inconsequential you think it is.”
“He’s the only secret I’ve kept. Him and being here.”
“Then let’s start with him. You just found out you’re still married. How is that even possible?”
Celia pushed off the couch. Memories and pain and confusion, an old familiar cocktail whirling around in her brain. She crossed to the window, stared out at the gray sky and gray grass and gray spring day. Gray, everywhere she looked. Everything she felt.
“Celia.”
“We started dating in middle school. Just silly things then. You know, walk home from school together or sneak a kiss on the playground. In high school, we got more serious and he proposed. At prom.”
Aubrey didn’t say anything so Celia glanced over her shoulder. Aubrey was just sitting in the couch, black hair obscuring her face.
“So we got married. At his grandmother’s church. But a few days later the church contacted us. The pastor had been new and they’d found out he wasn’t qualified to marry people, so we would have had to go back and get the ceremony redone.”
Still Aubrey was silent. “Not going to make fun of me for getting married right out of high school?”
“Let’s stick to the problem at hand,” Aubrey returned, pushing her hair behind her ear. “What next?”
“He started talking about going to Kansas City earlier than we’d—he’d—originally planned. How he’d get a job at such and such and I’d get a job at such and such until we could afford me going to school, too. We’d live here and do this and it was just…a plan. His plan. And I felt like I didn’t belong in it, and my drama teacher was putting me in touch with this talent scout she knew. I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t want any of his life if I had a chance at this one. So…I bolted. I ran away. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going or what I was doing. I just left. In the middle of the night.”
“Good. He sounds like an asshole. Then and now.”
Celia ran her finger across the windowpane. “No, he’s not. How can I blame him for making all those plans when I never told him it’s not what I wanted?” She breathed in deep, because even though she’d been desperate to blame him, that was the real truth. She’d never given him the tools to allow her to be a part of their decisions. She’d never allowed him what he would need to give her some inch of control. She’d never shown him she wanted to take care of herself sometimes, not just always be taken care of.
“So what about now? What’s going on now?”
“Does it matter?”
At Aubrey’s flashed middle finger, Celia sighed. “Ryan was a divorce lawyer and through something he was working on he found out that the pastor really was qualified and legally, we’re married. There was some kind of mix-up or whatever. He told me he could get us a silent annulment if I came and helped him with this reality show.”
Aubrey swore. “He blackmailed you and you’re telling me he’s not an asshole? You should know better.”
“I told him I’d take his family business in return if it makes you feel any better.” Celia glanced at Aubrey over her shoulder and Aubrey grinned.
“It does. Color me proud.”
Celia managed a laugh, picking at a bump in the paint of the window frame. “He did what he had to do, and so did I. I admire that about him, actually, and always have.”
“Don’t romanticize this. He’s the reason you’re here.”
“No. My mother is. Or maybe I am. I could have told you. I could have listened to your advice about going to the press sooner. I could have done a million things, but I kept a secret, I came here, and I…” She still cared about Ryan. She wanted to be with him, to find out if the them she’d felt the past few days had a future.
Aubrey wasn’t going to like that part.
“You what?” Aubrey demanded, pushing to her feet. She looked out of place in Ryan’s cozy living room. She was all black and sharp edges and Hollywood.
“I still care about him.” She couldn’t deny that, even with her best attempts at denial. And she was really good at denial. She cared about him, and he saw her. She wanted to find a way to make that work. So badly she wanted to be able to make them work.
“Why?”
“Because he sees me, the real me, and he likes what he sees.” Celia forced herself to meet Aubrey’s shrewd gaze so Aubrey would be forced to see the truth. How important this was. Ryan was. “With him, I don’t have to be anything I’m not.”
“I know you, too. I like you, too.”
Celia smiled; in a bunch of things not to smile at, not to feel good about, that made her both. “Yeah, but you’re kind of missing the equipment I’m interested in.”
Aubrey shook her head at the lame joke. “Trust me, sometimes a penis is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Celia arched an eyebrow. “You holding out on me?”
“Listen, missy, today is about you. This mess we’re in. And how we’re going to fix it.”
Celia sagged against the windowsill behind her. Fixing it all seemed so hard, so…impossible. “Any ideas on that front?”
Aubrey tapped her chin, looking around Ryan’s living room. “We can use him, you know. Especially if you’ve got it in your head to keep him around.”
“Use him?” Her head also echoed the “keep him around” part but she could only deal with one thing at a time.
“High school sweetheart who never got over you. We won’t say blackmail, but maybe tricks you into coming back trying to rekindle something. It would be a boost to your image, especially if we can twist leaving him to do with your father. It’s going to take some spinning, but we can make it work if he’s willing. If he does what I say.”
Any comfort Celia had felt at Aubrey’s saying she liked the real her faded away. Use Ryan? “No.” Even if he went along with it, which she just couldn’t fathom, using him, bringing him into her world was…no. No. She needed that to be real. If he wanted to visit…that needed to be real, not pretend.
“Tell me why.”
“Because I don’t want to use him.”
“Okay, so ‘use’ is a harsh word. I’m just saying he talks to the press with you.” When Celia shook her head, Aubrey pressed on. “‘I don’t want to’ doesn’t get to be your reason anymore. You want to salvage your image in the aftermath of whatever’s going to happen, ‘I don’t want to’ better leave your vocabulary.”
“He won’t go for it.”
“If he cares about you, he damn well will. Get him to come to LA with us.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
Because if Ryan came to her defense here, if he became part of this half truth they gave the press, she wasn’t sure she could keep this part of herself she’d rediscovered. She’d turn back into Celia Grant and he’d turn into some Hollywood version of himself as they weaved their revisionist history, and then what? She couldn’t help seeing that the only chance they had was if this was them, not Hollywood.
But if they didn’t use him? What then?
“You have to weigh what’s more important, Celia. Because this isn’t just about image anymore. It’s not just getting the roles you want and the press you want. If your mother spills everything her way, we can only respond, we aren’t in control. You risk everything you’ve built, your entire career.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you’re letting some warped nostalgia for this guy cloud your thinking, because if you were thinking straight you would have brought the blackmail to me right away. You would have told me you had been married, oh, when we first started working together and I told you to tell me everything about your life. You remember that?”
“It wasn’t important then! It was over.”
“Well, it’s important now and not over. So buckle up, Celia. We’ve got a bumpy damage control ride ahead, and it’s going to be unpleasant and uncomfortable.”
Celia flopped back on the couch. A seat belt wouldn’t save her at this point. In fact, she was fairly certain nothing could save her. And the her she was worried about wasn’t so much Celia Grant as it was the real her.
“Now, let’s start from the beginning. Go over every last scrap of information your mother could make public, and then we’ll come up with a plan.”
“I can’t leave here yet. I have to finish the show.”
“Like hell you can’t. I’ll work it out with the show. Maybe you can come back later or something. Whatever. The show is not what’s important. Fixing this before it ruins you is important.”
Right. She wasn’t in charge anymore. Aubrey was sweeping in with her plans and Celia’s only choice was to go along, or to lose the career she’d worked so hard for. The career that had given her everything she’d ever wanted.
Except herself.
And yet, it was still no contest. Herself was no match for the version of Celia she could be.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan sat outside the hangar, where he’d waited for Celia’s arrival however many days ago it was. He’d lost count, lost track—hell, lost track of his whole damn mind.
Filming had packed up for the day, and Nate and Vivvy had cozied away to Nate’s, and Ryan was alone in the shadow of the place he’d come to…
To what? He hadn’t saved Harrington, because it hadn’t needed saving. To help Nate? Based on the ring on Vivvy’s finger, Nate would have found a way to get himself what he wanted.
What had he left his big paycheck and nice apartment and social life to come back here for?
He looked out over the runway, the stupid cluster of trees in the distance, this world he’d been so bound and determined to escape ten years ago. And he had escaped. He’d gone to college and law school and achieved all his dreams.
And having it meant nothing, because ending other people’s marriages hadn’t been as fulfilling or satisfying as he’d been so convinced it would be.
But what would it matter if he’d come here to do this show, to do something for Harrington and Gramps and this family legacy, only to have it fail? The fact that he couldn’t control that failure, had been dismissed from his own house, from having any say in the matter, made him want to…
He didn’t know. The anger built, but the minute he thought about Celia he’d think about waking up with her, making breakfast with her, being sure they could figure things out, and then he was left baffled and hurt.
Eighteen again, his wife gone. “Fuck.”
“You sound like a man in need of a beer.”
Ryan glanced up at his brother, who stood at the entrance of the hangar, two beer cans in hand. “What are you doing here?”
Nate took a seat next to him. “Offering you a beer.”
“I don’t need your pity beer.”
“Oh, don’t you?” Nate placed the beer on the ground next to Ryan. “Celia’s walking?”
“Yup. It’s over. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“And by over do you mean her finishing the show, or do you mean whatever weird thing you two had going on?”
“Oh, hey, thanks for the beer. Now fuck off.” He wasn’t going to do this with Nate. Or with anybody. He was going to hurt on his own just as he always did.
Nate snorted, not at all deterred by Ryan’s foul mood. “You can’t snarl around us all afternoon and expect we’ll just leave you alone.”
Ryan glanced suspiciously at his brother. “Who’s ‘we’?”
Nate popped open his beer and took a drink, which was all Ryan needed to see to know what really was happening.
“Ah, Vivvy sent you. Recon mission.” He figured this wasn’t brotherly support. Nate was spying for his fiancée, who actually wanted to be here. In Demo.
Christ, he needed to get a grip. So he picked up the beer, popped it open, and took a long swig.
“Vivvy and I are worried about you because you’re our family. Vivvy even told me not to talk about the show with you.”
“Why are you guys worried about me?”
Nate rolled his eyes. “Tell me you two didn’t start something.”
“She’s only been here a few days.” So anything he was feeling would likely disappear just as fast. This would all go away and things would go back to normal and be fine. No reason to be upset at all.
Nate elbowed him in the shoulder. “Talking to the wrong guy if you think I don’t know that can happen. Besides, you have history, so no matter what, it was more than a few days.”
“Look, it’s…” Oh, who the hell was he kidding? It was screwed up and complicated and keeping it to himself didn’t do a damn thing for him. “She’s going to leave. Again. And, really, it doesn’t matter. Nothing changes.” Okay, so much for a confession.
“Maybe nothing changes on the surface, but if…well, if there was something going on between you two, it wouldn’t be unheard of for her leaving to suck.”
“If you’re trying to make a parallel, you’re forgetting something.” Ryan pointed the beer can at Nate. “Vivvy came back, sure. Celia already did the leaving, and she didn’t come back until I made her.”
“Made her, huh?” Nate studied the sky above them.
“Yup. Blackmail and everything.” Ryan cleared his throat. Might as well get it all off his chest. “We’re still married.”
Nate’s head jerked back to Ryan. “What?”
“I found out a few months ago. Some mix-up. We’re still legally married, and that’s how I got her to come back here. And then Dad stuck his nose in there. So, no parallel. Celia’s going to leave and she’s not coming back. She’s not going to visit. We’re not…whatever.” All those tentative possibilities from this morning evaporated.
Nate was silent for a while and that was fine with Ryan. What was there to talk about? Everything was black and white. He’d brought her here with a threat. They’d found some sort of…connection between them, but reality made that impossible to maintain.
She was in the middle of a crisis, and he had no say in it. She would leave and the show would be screwed witho
ut enough footage to make sense of. Celia, and a life with her, were not something he had any say in or could be a part of. No matter what delusions of happy endings he’d been working for himself, it was fiction.
His phone chimed. With dread pooling in his stomach, Ryan read. Can you come back?
“That her?”
“Yeah. She wants me to come back.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
Ryan just stared at the phone. “I…don’t know.”
Nate clapped him on the shoulder. “One piece of advice. Just one. Don’t…fly off the handle if it doesn’t all go exactly the way you want it to. And the show? Let it go. Vivvy will figure it out.”
“What will she figure out, Nate?”
He shrugged. “We’ll get someone else. We’ll use what we’ve got. We’ll figure it out.”
Nate was a shitty liar, but Ryan didn’t press him. He knew what this was. His failure. Instead of making something big out of Gramps’s legacy, instead of helping Nate and Vivvy find a way to be together more, he’d screwed it all up.
Failure.
“Trust me…” Ryan pushed to his feet. “There’s no way I’m getting what I want.” Or giving anyone else what they wanted. If that was his lesson to be learned, consider this the test he was going to ace.
…
Celia’s heart felt as though it jumped to her throat when Ryan walked through the door, but she didn’t move. If her idiot brain was going to allow herself to hope, it was going to do it firmly seated.
“She’s still here?”
Aubrey flashed the most insincerest of smiles. “Aren’t you Kansanites just charming?”
“I’m a Kansan, lady. And I’ve got more charm in my pinkie than you’ve got in your—”
“Ryan, have a seat,” Celia said mechanically. Celia Grant fell into place without any trouble at all, because she wasn’t just a mask, she was armor. The only chink had ever been him, but with Aubrey sitting next to her she felt renewed.
