by Kim Law
Her excitement came to a screeching halt as logic finally prevailed. She only owned one-third of the company! And she had no idea what her foster sisters would think about any of this.
“What about Heather and Trenton?” She finally found her voice. She couldn’t do this without them.
“There would be a place for your foster sisters if they want it,” Patrick assured her. “Unless all parties agreed to a buyout, of course. Another option would be them working renovations, but not being on camera. Not everyone enjoys the spotlight. All of that is negotiable. The part that isn’t negotiable is you and Cal. You’re the hosts.”
“And there’s no wiggle room on merging the companies?” Cal asked.
Jill turned back to him. He had to be as excited as her, right?
She bit her lip as she waited.
“I’m afraid there’s no wiggle room with that,” the executive producer answered Cal. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re not trying to manipulate either of you. Say no, and we walk away. But we’ve seen something special between you and Jill over the past weeks. And from your companies. There are parts of both we’d like to bring into the new production, and given that name recognition will be high immediately after the competition airs, we’d love to go to contract soon.”
They were talking as if it were already a done deal, and Jill suddenly couldn’t contain her excitement. “Cal?” she asked. He hadn’t said much.
When he met her gaze, she nodded and decided to take a leap of faith. What was living if you didn’t go for it once in a while?
“I’ll do it.” A nervous laugh followed her words. “I’ll have to talk to Heather and Trenton, of course. I won’t agree to anything without making sure they want it, too. But if there’s no issue, then I’m in. You and I could . . .”
She stopped talking as she finally began to clue in to the look on Cal’s face. That wasn’t excitement staring back at her.
“Cal?” she said again. She glanced at the red light on the nearest camera. “Say something.”
When he continued giving her nothing but silence, she quickly asked for a moment, and pulled him to the side.
“This could be great,” she whispered. “I know it’s a big decision, and we can sleep on it. We’ll go home and think it over. We’d be crazy not to. But I can really see this happening. You and me.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and grinned up at him. “It could be huge. You’d see the business expand the way you’ve always dreamed. I’d get to stay here, doing work I adore, but still get to live out a dream.”
She sighed with unadulterated joy. “And it wouldn’t just be the companies I’d want to combine. You know that, right? These last two weeks . . .” She had everything she could ever want right in front of her. “I love you, Cal.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ve always loved you.”
Cal stared at the woman he’d once married and then divorced, all within a span of twenty-four hours. Until that moment, he’d been questioning if the divorce had been a mistake. Maybe he should have tried harder to find a solution that could work.
Maybe he should have sought her out after she’d come home, and tried to work it out.
But then, Jill had said she loved him. After being offered a TV show.
He untangled her arms from his body. “Why did you just now say you love me?”
“What?” She looked toward the group of people waiting on them before turning back. “What do you mean why now?” she whispered.
“I mean, why now that you just got offered this opportunity, did you then decide to tell me that you love me? Did you say it only because you want to be on TV?”
“What? No.”
Was he seriously losing out to her dream of acting again? “I won the competition,” he reminded her.
“I know that.”
“So maybe if you don’t love me, then they’d just offer me a show.”
Her brows knit. “Do you want a show by yourself?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
He looked away from her. He wasn’t exactly sure what the point was, but he was pretty sure everything he’d just begun to think he wanted was once again crumbling in his hands. “I can’t just throw away everything I’ve worked for, Jill. That’s all I’m saying.”
“But you wouldn’t be. Don’t you see that? This would only make the company bigger. It would grow beyond anything you’ve imagined, I’m positive. Everyone would know your name.”
“Everyone would know our name.”
She jolted slightly at his words, then she spoke more slowly. “And that would be a problem?”
“I’m just saying I’m not sure I’m ready to hand over my business. And that you can’t toss around words like ‘love’ and expect—”
“Wait.” She took a step back. “You think I was lying when I said that?”
“All I know is you didn’t mention it before.”
“Because you wouldn’t have wanted to hear it before.” Her voice began to rise. “And clearly, you don’t want to hear it now.”
“I never said anything about love.” He could hear the exasperation in his own voice.
“I’m fully aware of that.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Stop.” She held up a hand, then she patted him on the chest as if unsure what else to do. “Just don’t, okay? You don’t have to say it back. It’s fine. You don’t have to love me.”
Did he love her?
He had no idea. And that was part of the problem. Everything was suddenly twisted, with the most prevalent thought being that he didn’t even know if he could love. Wasn’t that what everyone told him?
“I never wanted to hurt you again, Jilly.”
“Yet you’re straddling that line pretty heavily right now.”
“But, why? We were good ten minutes ago, right? So why does my not wanting to combine my company with yours mean that we can’t still be fine?”
She stared at him for a full minute, and he found himself wanting to take it all back. He didn’t know what “it” was, exactly, he just knew he wasn’t going to like whatever was about to come out of her mouth next.
“Because I don’t want ‘fine’ any longer, Cal. I’ve been ‘fine’ for years. I want ‘great’ for once in my life. And I want to be enough for somebody. It isn’t the thought of you not being willing to combine your company with ours that’s the real problem. It’s your inability to combine your life with mine. It’s just like before. I see that now. You were all for us being together. Being married. As long as I complied. As long as I gave up my dreams and agreed to sit around and let you handle everything.”
“That’s not what I wanted at all.”
“Wasn’t it? Your wedding present to me was to surprise me with the knowledge that you were prepared to take care of me. You’d already rented a place for us here. When you knew I wanted to go to LA.”
“But I had to come back here. We’ve been over this so many times, Jill. You know that. My father shoved my grandmother into a home and left her there. How was I supposed to do the same?”
“Yet you left me. And you had no problem doing that.”
“I left you because you never needed me.”
She sucked in a breath at his words, then she slowly lowered her arms to her sides. She took another step back. “That’s what it was about? Who needed you the most?”
“You didn’t love me enough to come home with me. To support my responsibilities.”
“Yeah. You already tried that one. And you didn’t love me enough to believe in me. It was only about you.” She laughed softly, and the sound felt like a slice through the heart. She shook her head in disgust. “You’re pathetic, Cal. I had no idea how much until just now, but I just realized you did the very thing you always claimed you’d never do. You grew up to be your father. A tiny little man who cares more for himself than anyone who might want to care for him.”
Rage suddenly colored Cal
’s vision. “Oh, that’s rich, Jill. You can’t have what you want—again—so you start name-calling. Good thing this is all becoming clear now. Before I was stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.”
“Yes, it is.” She stepped forward then and poked a finger into his chest. “And for the record, I still don’t need you,” she gritted out. “And I never will. Good luck with your life, Cal. Be sure to carry on that Reynolds tradition with pride.”
She paused as she stepped away from him, then she closed her eyes. And when she turned back to the others, it was as if a different person emerged. She’d reverted to calm and collected. “Thank you both for the opportunity to be on the show,” she said to Patrick and the executive producer. “It was a wonderful experience, and provided me with memories I’ll treasure. I also appreciate the chance to work more with you, but I’m afraid it’s a no.”
Cal’s gaze shot to the cameras as he listened to her. They’d been rolling all this time.
And Jill had known it.
Their mics had been hot, as well. Which meant that the last few minutes had been nothing more than her final act. He’d known she didn’t really love him.
Jill turned the corner of the house, heading back the way they’d come, and he saw her lift her hand and wave to the onlookers. He watched until she disappeared, unsure how things had gone from the highest high to the lowest low in a matter of minutes.
He’d found and then he’d lost Jill. Again.
But this time was the last time.
Chapter Twenty
“Friends don’t let friends hurt alone.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #10
The sound of Jill’s footsteps was the only noise in the small house as she made yet another loop from the living room to the kitchen and back. She couldn’t believe what Cal had done to her. Nor what she’d done to herself. She’d fallen for the big idiot. Again! But leave it to Cal. As was his style, he’d handed it right back to her.
Why was it that she was the only woman to ever get dumped by the man? And now she had to face knowing that she’d been dumped not once, but twice.
She stopped midstride and processed that thought. Cal hadn’t actually done the dumping this time. She’d been the one to make that decision. He’d wanted to go along, being just fine. She growled under her breath and started moving again. She didn’t want to be fine. And she didn’t want someone who half assed a relationship.
Her thoughts stopped her yet again as it occurred to her that she could now join the exes-of-Cal’s club. The idea pleased her in a sick way. He hadn’t cared enough, so she’d moved on. Nice to know she wasn’t alone, at least.
Only, she was alone, and she was tired of it.
She quit pacing and dropped to the oversized ottoman, which sat in front of her sectional. Which she’d placed in front of the fireplace . . . which sat below where most normal people would install a TV.
She wanted to be normal again, too.
She flopped back across the ottoman and stared at the ceiling. Cal had told her for a second time that she didn’t love him enough. How dare he? He was the one lacking in that arena. She was just fine. She snorted at the thought. “Fine” was going to be her favorite new word.
Her phone dinged from where it lay charging in the kitchen. It would be a text from Heather or Trenton. They’d offered to come over, and when she’d declined, they’d suggested they all go out. It was a Saturday night, they’d pointed out. Why not go out on the town?
But to celebrate what? Her double loss?
She groaned. She hated feeling sorry for herself. But she couldn’t help it at the moment. She’d gone from thinking she had it all. Finally. To having nothing at all. Maybe that was her true commonality with her mother. Her luck with men. Was she destined to always fall for such jerks?
Or only one jerk in particular?
She rolled to her side and pulled her knees up on the cushion, then she stared at the picture of sunflowers above the fireplace. She wanted to watch TV again. She hadn’t been able to when she’d first come home. Her experiences had soured her on everything Hollywood, and she’d wanted nothing to do with it. But she had new experiences now. Texas Dream Home had done that for her. And she wanted to keep moving forward, keep trying new things. Maybe one day she’d even go out with a new man.
Not today, though. She needed to wallow more. Cal had missed out. She was a fucking prize.
But she was missing out, too. Because she did love him enough.
He was just too stupid to realize it.
She eyed the plastic-wrapped package of DVDs now sitting on the mantel. Seasons one through four of Texas Dream Home had been part of their consolation prize for not winning. She could start her new experiences there.
The phone beeped yet again, and she shoved herself up to go get it. The good thing about having annoying foster sisters who wouldn’t leave you alone when you wanted to sulk in peace was that they’d also be there when you wanted to sulk with friends.
She pulled up the text app and typed out a group message.
Texas Dream Home marathon. I need a lot of wine, even more chocolate, a monster-sized TV, and two best friends to do it all with me.
But before she could hit “Send,” a knock sounded at the front door.
Surprise had Jill going still. It couldn’t be Cal, could it?
Her pulse took off. She wished it were Cal. She missed him already.
But as she stared at the door on the other side of the room, reality told her otherwise. Cal would not be standing on her front porch. He didn’t want what she did. He didn’t want her. Not the way she wanted him.
So it couldn’t be Cal knocking on her door.
But as she slowly crossed the room, her feet fighting her every step of the way, it didn’t matter how much she knew it wouldn’t be him. Because she still wanted it to be. She reached the foyer, and with hands trembling, she peeked through the bottom row of windows. Then she heaved out a shaky sigh of relief.
Her two favorite people in the whole world stood on the other side of her door. And they’d brought wine and chocolate.
Jill looked down at her phone as she pulled the door open. She hadn’t even sent the text.
She stared at Heather and Trenton, her throat clogged with emotion, and she saw her own pain reflected in their eyes. She needed them. And they’d known it. And then damned if tears didn’t spill down her cheeks.
“Oh, Jilly.” Heather shoved the wine she carried at Trenton and wrapped Jill in her arms.
“I was just about to text.” Jill sniffed. She held up her phone behind Heather’s back, as if either of them could see it.
“And we were prepared to break down the door if you didn’t let us in.”
Trenton leaned in then, her arms loaded with four bottles of wine and two Halloween-sized bags of chocolate, and she inched in as close as she could get. She rested her head against Jill’s, and they stood there like that. Jill crying, Heather soothing, and Trenton muttering that all Jill had to do was say the word, and she’d go kick Cal’s ass. And Jill understood that whether she had Cal or not, she absolutely would never be alone. She had her girls.
“I wish you could see this view, Granny.” Cal shifted his truck into park.
“Tell me about it.”
They sat at the ridge on his property where he’d first brought Jill, and Cal looked out over his land. It was the day after he’d won the Texas Dream Home competition, and he’d officially moved in. There’d been little physical moving to do, of course, since he’d already pretty much furnished his home. But he had brought over the kitchen table from his grandmother’s house that morning—as well as his cat. And Pete would be showing up with the concrete truck later that afternoon. He’d offered to help pour the basketball court.
“Green as far as the eye can see,” Cal started, wanting to paint not only the picture for his grandmother, but the feel of the place, as well. “And blue sky stretching well beyond that.”
He spent
the next several minutes showing his grandmother his farm through his eyes, and when he finally moved the truck forward again, he headed for the old barn.
“Before we go into the house, I want to show you my workshop.”
His grandmother turned her face toward his, her smile soft and her eyes having long ago lost their color. “You’re a good boy, Calhoun. Your grandfather would be proud of you.”
“Do you think so?” He navigated the truck into the garage of the renovated barn. “I wish he was here with us today.”
She patted his thigh. “Don’t worry. He is.”
Cal took his grandmother’s hand and kissed the tissue-soft skin on the back of it, then he went around to the other side and helped her down. He tucked her arm under his, and walked her around the space.
“I haven’t gotten to do much woodworking lately,” he told her. “Between renovating the house and this barn, and then the TV show.” He looked up at the open rafters. “But I’m going to start again soon. I need new chairs for my kitchen table.”
“Why don’t you build things to sell, Cal?” His grandmother’s fingers trailed over everything she could reach with one hand while she kept her other securely wrapped around his arm. He had several of his grandfather’s tools mixed in with his, and he noticed how her fingers took extra time to smooth over the thinner, more worn metal.
“I can’t handle a second job, Granny. Running the company is enough. This is a hobby.”
“But you’ve always been so good at it.” She released her hold on him when she laid a hand over a small jewelry box. It was made of black walnut, and he’d even installed a tiny dancer inside the lid.
His granny opened the lid, running one hand around to the back to turn the key for the music box, then smiled at the whimsical tune.
“I can imagine her twirling in place.”
“She is,” Cal told her. “And she’s wearing a pink tutu.”
“Of course she is. How else would a tiny dancer in a jewelry box dress?”
