by Roxy Reid
Jax holds up the dress in front of me, and I remember how good I looked in it.
“Will it make you feel strong and powerful?” Jax asks.
Yes. Hell, yes.
I grab the dress from her, “Fine. I’m getting it.”
Jax claps me on the back. “Good, because we just monopolized their dressing room for an hour, so we have to buy something. And this place is hella out of my price range.”
My alarm goes off at five o’clock the morning before launch day, but I’m already up and pacing the room, texting Darian to finalize details. My red dress hangs on the front of my closet door, a daily reminder that I can be strong and powerful if I need to be.
I think it’s because it’s so early in the morning that Darian lets slip that Elinor Swift hasn’t signed the contract yet.
What. The. Literal. Fuck.
This woman has been stringing Joshua along for three months. I had a fake engagement because of her. I had real sex because of her. Also real heartbreak.
And she hasn’t signed the fucking contract?
I glare at the red dress in front of me.
Not your fight, the red dress whispers back at me. Let it go. Say goodbye, and let go.
So I try not to think about it, and pad into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Ok, but until she signs the contract, this thing isn’t finished. And I don’t leave a job unfinished. I lean over the sink and spit.
I study myself in the mirror. Maybe I can’t let go until I know Joshua is going to be ok. Until I know this project that he’s put his whole life into has the best chance of succeeding that it possibly can.
If I can get Elinor Swift to sign… It would be like a goodbye gift to Joshua. The perfect goodbye, to say I wish him well. And I’ll never regret knowing him, or kissing him, or getting to know his kid.
I’ll never regret that he was my first.
I roll my shoulders and tilt my chin up. Time to get Joshua King the gift of a lifetime.
I head back into the bedroom and grab my phone. I’ve got a string of questions about the launch party from Darian.
I ignore them all and write back, Does Joshua still want Elinor Swift for the movie? Because if he does, send me the contact information for her assistant. I have a plan.
19
Joshua
It’s the morning of the launch of my production company, and I know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m supposed to be excited. I’m supposed to be thrilled. I’m supposed to have that tense energy buzzing under my skin that I still get before a product launch, or on the first day of shooting.
At the very least, I should be panicked that although she agreed to do the role, Elinor Swift seems to be avoiding Darian’s calls and hasn’t signed the contract yet.
Instead, I’ve got a pit in my stomach because today’s the last day I’ll see Sienna. I’m opening a permanent account with her firm, but she told me she won’t be working on it. She wasn’t angry when she said it, but I know a brush off when I see one, and I have a sneaking suspicion that she’ll always have a reason to be out of the office whenever I stop in for meetings.
My suit’s hanging on my closet door in its dry-cleaning bag. It’s my favorite suit, and certain celebrity gossip sites have mocked me for wearing it so much.
But now when I look at it all I see is what I was wearing the first time I kissed Sienna.
I rub my hand over my face. I’ve never been this hung up on a woman before. Ever. It’s been a month, and I’m still dreaming of her scent, of her curves, of her eyes. I wake up hard from hot dreams of her in my arms, and then crash back down to earth when I remember she’s kicked me out of her life for good.
It doesn’t help that she’s gotten more peaceful, the last few times I saw her. Before, I could tell seeing me was fucking her up. Sienna’s not nearly as good at hiding her emotions as she thinks she is.
But now, she smiles at me and means it. It’s like she’s finally made peace with her decision.
Well, bully for her. Because I haven’t.
I stomp downstairs and pour myself a bowl of lucky charms. And then a glass of whiskey because fuck it, why not.
“Why are you mad, Daddy?” Poppy says, from the kitchen doorway, rubbing her eyes, a stuffed animal Sienna gave her dangling from her hand.
She just woke up, and it makes her sound her age. Poppy’s so tough and outgoing, I tend to forget how young my baby still is.
“I’m not mad,” I say. “I’m just sad.”
And as I say it, I realize that’s the truth. Underneath the frustration and loss and stress… I’m sad.
I’ve been saying I’m hung up on Sienna, but that’s like saying the Grand Canyon is a moderately sized crevice.
My heart is fucking breaking.
And I’m sad about it.
I pour some whole wheat cheerios for Poppy — the little weirdo doesn’t like Lucky Charms — and she climbs up onto the stool on the other side of the kitchen island. I sit down next to her with my sugary cereal and whiskey.
Here’s the thing about heartbreak. It hurts like a motherfucker. But it hurts a smidge less when your kid is sitting next to you, humming tunelessly.
Until you realize she’s humming a song the woman who dumped you taught her. Then your heart just gives up and shatters into a million pieces.
“Why are you sad?” Poppy asks, in that matter of fact way she once asked me why the sky is blue.
I didn’t have an answer for that one either.
“Well, kiddo. Um. Sienna and I aren’t going to be friends anymore. And that makes me sad, because I like her. I like her a lot.”
Poppy slurps up her cheerios, “Why can’t you be friends anymore?”
“Because…” I look at the ceiling, searching for an age appropriate answer to that can of worms. “It’s big and messy and adult and complicated. But the gist is, I can have this big dream of mine that I’ve been working toward for a long time, or I can have her. But I can’t have both, and she didn’t want to make me choose, so…”
I rub Poppy’s back, and tuck her hair behind her ear. I hope she never has to make a choice like this when she grows up.
“So you want your dream more?” Poppy asks.
“Well… Not this second, no, if I’m being honest. But that’s just because I’m sad right now. Down the road, I’ll be glad I made this choice.”
At least I hope I will. Otherwise I’m fucked.
Poppy frowns down at her cereal, still trying to understand. Then her face suddenly clears, and she beams up at me. “I know. You can work on one now, and one later. Can Sienna wait, and be our friend later?”
Slowly I shake my head, “That’s a good idea, hon, but I don’t think –”
“Then can you do your dream later?”
I start to say no out of habit, but as my lips are forming the word, I realize it’s a lie.
I can launch the production company later, if I have to. I want to do it now, with this script. But I don’t need to. Or I can launch it now, without the security blanket of Elinor Swift, and just work that much harder for the next ten years to be taken seriously.
All I have to do is open my hands. Tell the truth. Let go. Lose control.
There’s no denying life will be cleaner, more manageable, if I let Sienna go. Especially given what I’d have to do to get her back.
And there’s no guarantee she’d take me back. I could lose everything.
But if it works...
My life with Sienna in it would be bright. Vivid. Hot. Unruly. Challenging. Complete.
Why the hell would I want an easy life when I could have Sienna Bridges?
“Thank you, sweetie,” I say, hopping off the stool and kissing Poppy’s forehead. “Thank you so much.”
I call Brittney, and she agrees to come watch Poppy earlier than we originally planned.
I race upstairs to grab my suit. I’ve got a launch party to ruin.
Thank God Elinor Swift hasn’t signed that contract
yet.
20
Sienna
The launch party is a huge success by normal metrics. Journalists, celebrities, influencers, and distributors buzz around the courtyard of the winery, glasses in hand. Everything is running on schedule.
But this isn’t a normal launch party. Joshua still needs to make his speech, where he’ll toast with the new champagne and announce his production company. And I still need to snag one guest in particular and convince her to sign the contract I got from Darian.
I may have technically blackmailed Elinor Swift’s personal assistant to get the launch party on her schedule, but that’s not important.
And then I spot Elinor Swift. Wandering through the crowd with an air of untouchable elegance.
I pop up at her elbow, “Excuse me, Ms. Swift? Mr. King wants to talk to you inside.” Before she can protest, I lead her into a small room off the courtyard.
She follows like a woman used to being needed. As soon as she’s inside I close the door with a heavy clink, and whip out the contract.
It’s possible I never work again in Hollywood if this goes wrong, but I ignore that thought, “I’m so sorry ma’am, but we realized today there’s been an oversight and you never signed your contract with King Productions. If you can just sign here, I’ll be happy to escort you back to the party.
Elinor looks from me to the contract, confused, and a little pissed, “What’s going on? I thought I was speaking with Joshua. And how do you know about King productions?” She narrows her famous silvery-blue eyes at me, “Wait. You’re not an employee. You’re Joshua’s fiancée. This is ridiculous.”
Elinor tries to move around me to get to the door, but I block her in, “Oh no you don’t. You’ve been making him walk on hot coals for too long. You’re not leaving this room without signing the contract.”
She sniffs, and the amount of disdain in that one gesture is stunning, “You can’t make me be in a movie.”
I throw up my hands, “Then don’t be in the movie! There are plenty of other actresses who would die for this part. And none of them have a shot as long as Joshua’s hung up on you.”
“... other actresses?” She’s looking out the window, trying to play it cool, but I can see I have her attention.
So I do what any good Hollywood person would do. I start making shit up, “Of course he’d rather have you. You’re a once in a lifetime talent. But if you’re too busy to commit, there was this one actress from New York. A stage actress his family knows. It would be her screen debut, of course, which is a risk, but with someone of her pedigree…” I trail off.
“Who? Who is it?” Elinor demands. “Elizabeth Tigard? Beth Killingsworth? One of the Emerson sisters?”
“I’m sure you understand, she demands the same kind of discretion you do, and I’ve already said too much.” I lift up the contract. “So do you want the part, or…”
Elinor stares me down. I hold my breath and pray I haven’t lost Joshua his lead actress.
Slowly, Elinor shakes her head, and my heart sinks.
“I don’t care if you’re bluffing,” she says. “I don’t respond well to threats or ultimatums. And I have no intention of working with–”
“Oh, give me a break!” I burst out. “You give threats and ultimatums all the time.”
“What are you talking about?” Elinor asks cooly.
“You’re whole ‘if the media finds out I won’t work with you.’ It’s a gossipy town! The media finds out everything eventually. But Joshua has been bending over backwards to keep this a secret for you,” I say.
She purses her lips, “I hardly think not blabbing to the paparazzi counts as bending over backwards.”
“We’re in a fake-engagement because of you! I just… ARGH!” I dig my hands into my hair. I don’t know what else to say to this woman. I take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Look, I know you’re a legend. But he is too. And more than that, he’s a good man, who puts more into the things that matter to him than anyone else I have known in my entire life. And you get the chance to be part of the thing he cares about most in the entire world: doing this movie right.”
I step closer to Elinor, trying to make her understand, “This is going to be a success, with or without you. It’s going to be a once in a generation movie, with or without you. And it’s going to be the highlight of a lot of people’s careers.”
“But,” I continue, “it’s not going to be the highlight of his. For Joshua, this is just the beginning of a charged, creative, history-making future.” I hold out the contract to her one last time. “So do you want to be part of that future, or not?”
Elinor blinks, “Really? You’re not engaged? Because that sounds like the speech of a woman in love.”
It’s like being punched in the stomach. Because there’s my answer, right there. To why I can’t get over him. Why I’m so obsessed with getting him the perfect goodbye gift.
It’s because I’m in love with him. I’m in love with Joshua King.
“Oh, honey,” Elinor says, her eyes on face. “Did you really not know?”
She gives me a pitying look, then holds out her hand, “Oh what the hell. This won’t be any worse than Angels in Space. Give me the damn contract.”
I pass the contract and the pen over, the small jolt of triumph at my success overwhelmed by the crushing realization that I’m in love with a man who can’t ever loosen up enough to choose me. Love can conquer a lot, but it can’t conquer always being in second place. And I would be only second place, with him.
“So why didn’t you two lovebirds make it work?” Elinor asks, her eyes skimming the contract.
“Irreconcilable differences,” I say. Which sounds like a line but is also, tragically true. “People don’t change.”
Elinor nods absently and starts to sign, when the door slams open, startling us both.
Joshua stands framed in the doorway, looking like he ran a mile to get here. His suit is rumpled, his collar is unbuttoned, and his hair is a mess.
He’s never looked sexier to me.
To my surprise, Joshua ignores me completely, and heads right for Elinor. “You’re a very hard woman to find. Also your assistant is oddly terrified of people from my office.” He rips the contract out of her hands. “Don’t sign that.”
Elinor blinks, “I thought the thing about the stage actress was a bluff.”
“It would have been a privilege to work with an actress of your stature, and please believe me when I say I value your need for discretion and I understand that what I’m about to do means you won’t want to work with me.”
Finally Joshua looks at me, and there’s so much heat and tenderness and painful hope in his gaze that it floors me. He crosses to me and kisses me, hard and fast. Like he’s kissing me for courage.
Joshua turns back to Elinor, “But right now I need to make a grand romantic gesture.”
He crinkles the contract up into a ball of paper and tosses it on the ground, before striding out of the room and back into the courtyard.
Elinor and I both look at each other, then hurry to follow.
Joshua hops on the stage and grabs the mic. A waiter tries to pass him champagne, thinking he’s giving his scheduled toast, but Joshua waves it away.
Across the crowd, Joshua looks dead at me. And then he begins to speak.
“I invited you all here, because I had an announcement to make. I’m launching a production company. King Productions. It’s going to be great, because I’m partnering with some of the best people I know, and we make good stuff. This speech, this event, this night was supposed to be building to that big reveal.
“But here’s the thing. I met this woman. This smart, passionate, vibrant woman. Her text messages are pretty funny too.” Polite, uncertain chuckles float across the room. No one knows what’s going on, but there’s that electric sense that this is a genuine, unplanned moment, and anything can happen. All of the reporters are on high alert, and the cameras are flashing away. “And
because I was trying to keep this production company, and the possibility of Elinor Swift’s involvement, a secret from you all–” he gestures to the flashing cameras, “–I asked this woman to pretend to be my fiancée. As a distraction from - and for - the press.”
A few of the cameras figure out what’s going on and swing toward me. I have a weird, surreal moment of being glad I bought the red dress after all, since no matter how this ends, I’m going to be on the front page of every gossip site tomorrow.
“As you can imagine, a fake engagement isn’t the best way to start a relationship,” Joshua says, and the room laughs. “But Sienna is a great partner in crime. She’s a great… well everything. And I fell pretty hard.”
I can’t take my eyes off Joshua. I can’t believe what he’s doing.
“With a start like that,” he continues, “it was hard to get her to trust me. And when one night I picked my career over her, it was hard to convince her that it wouldn’t always be like that. Always me leaving to try to control my career, to try to control what you all say about me. So she left first.”
There are murmurs of sympathy across the room. A few of the women’s eyes shoot daggers at me, but I ignore them to focus on Joshua.
“And I couldn’t blame her, because I never even told her how I felt. So. Um. Yeah. I’m going to do that now.”
The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Not even the cameras are flashing now. I’m sure the whole room can hear my heartbeat.
“Jesus, this is nerve wracking,” Joshua says, but even that doesn’t cut the tension in the room. The waiter offers him a champagne flute again, and this time Joshua takes it.
With a rueful smile, he turns back to face the crowd, lifting the champagne in a toast, “To Sienna Bridges. This is me blowing up the launch party within a launch party that you so perfectly planned – a round of applause everyone, for the sheer number of event binders this woman made – to tell you I love you. Desperately, madly, irrevocably. And I will choose a wild and wonderful life with you over the bland and tidy life I always thought I wanted.”
