Perfectly Scripted

by Christy Pastore

  “I’ll get them buckled into their seats,” Ronan said, slipping his Prada wool coat over his broad shoulders.

  “I’ll be there in a minute. I need to grab the wine and my coat.”

  He came towards me and pulled me in for a hug. His mouth sealed over mine, the hot stroke of his tongue licking me sweetly in a soulful rhythm. I almost forgot there were children standing in the next room, but their laughing snapped us out of our bubble.

  The girls made kissy faces at us and then proceeded to mimic us.

  “Oh, Holliday, you are so beautiful,” Leah said, pretending to be her father. Then she made a smooching sound while hugging Jade.

  “Please kiss me again…Mr. Connolly,” Jade said through a set of giggles, flipping her hair.

  Leah rolled her eyes. “Daddy’s name is Ronan. Ro-nan,” she repeated, sounding it out for her sister.

  Jade hooked her arm around Leah’s waist, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss her sister on the cheek. Fanning herself from the kiss, Leah dramatically dropped into the kitchen chair.

  Tears formed in my eyes from laughing so hard. “Looks like you have a set of future actresses on your hands.”

  “No way,” he said with a full smile, shaking his head. “Because when you are an actor or an actress, you have to kiss boys.” Ronan rounded the bar and scooped up Jade.

  Shrieks of laughter echoed all the way to the elevator. It was the most perfect sound I’d ever heard.

  The next morning, I awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a mostly naked Ronan standing over me.

  “Good morning,” he said, handing me a mug.

  I rolled up and took the mug from his hands. “This is becoming a habit. One I think I really like.”

  I took a sip and then set the cup down on the nightstand. The screen on my phone lit up with a few text messages. One was from Ella, asking me what I was wearing to the ceremony, and the rest were from Grady.

  GRADY: We’re married! Shhh don’t tell

  “Holy shit!”

  “What is it?”

  Two pictures were included. One was of Grady and his new bride showing off their rings and marriage certificate. The other was of him and Heather in a romantic embrace with the Las Vegas skyline behind them. It was picture perfect. I shoved the phone at Ronan so he could see the happy news for himself.

  “How long do you think they can keep this a secret?” I asked.

  “Oh, not long, I’m sure.”

  “How much do you think the tabloids would give me for these?”

  “Holliday, no,” he said, pulling the phone from my hands.

  Of course, I’d only been joking. I tried to grab for my phone, but he rolled off the bed and held it over his head.

  He smirked. “You want it? Come and get it.”

  “I’d rather have you.” I gripped the ends of my silk nightgown, lifting it over my head. “See anything you—”

  Before I could ask the question, Ronan had me pinned beneath him in the middle of the bed. He kissed his way up my cheek to my ear, where he nibbled on my earlobe. The pads of his thumbs grazed my nipples.

  “I love the way you feel.” His breath lingered over my lips. Then his hands reached between my legs, shoving my panties to the side. “Let me have you, Holliday.”

  “Yes.” I lifted my hips at the stroke of his fingers inside me.

  The ringing of my phone caught me off guard, causing my leg to jolt with a fiery kick. My knee nearly collided with Ronan’s jaw.

  “Shit!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry about that.” I grabbed my phone, my sister’s face coming up on the screen.

  Frowning, I answered the call, and Charlotte was freaking out in the most spectacular way. Something about the flowers not arriving on time and one of the models came down with food poisoning and wouldn’t be able to walk the mini runway show we had planned.

  “Okay, sis. I’m on it. I can find you another model, but if the flowers don’t make it, no one will think twice about it.”

  After five minutes of talking, I managed to calm her down. Then I turned and found Ronan standing in the doorway, pinning those electric green eyes that made me weak in the knees on me. I loved that he would always make me feel this way. I went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

  “I love you,” I whispered into his shoulder. “Sorry for the craziness wrecking our moment.”

  “Listen to me. No matter what else is going on, no matter how much drama or chaos is swirling through our lives, we will always have each other.”

  I didn’t know what the future held. All I knew was that, with Ronan Connolly by my side, my life would never be dull.

  “Always, huh? I really like that idea.”

  “Yes. Always.”

  Ronan

  One Month Later

  Manhattan traffic was one giant clusterfuck tonight. It didn’t help matters that filming had run long because of the last-minute location change. Otherwise, I would have missed this mess altogether. Still, not even the annoying traffic situation could spoil my fantastic fucking mood.

  As I sat in my car, moving at a snail’s pace, I watched happy families, smiling friends, and loving couples out and about, enjoying everything the city had to offer during the holiday season. Tonight was the Tree Lighting Ceremony at Rockefeller Plaza, so it was no surprise loads of people were buzzing around everywhere. Finally, traffic started to move, and my smile grew wider.

  As I pulled up to the building, my phone alerted me to my appointment.

  Right on time.

  The wind cut through my body with sharpness. Not even multiple layers could keep the bite of the winter chill from piercing my skin. Passing through the glass doors, I met the gaze of a tall blonde with dark-brown eyes and a sultry, red pout. Immediately, the song “Suicide Blonde” came to mind. She rounded the counter and greeted me.

  “Right this way, Mr. Connolly. We’ve been expecting you.”

  I followed her through the gallery, catching glimpses of the black-and-white photos that lined the textured walls. Before entering the showroom, we passed a glass wall with a waterfall behind it. The sound of rushing water somehow managed to calm my scattered nerves.

  “Mr. Connolly, welcome. I was delighted to receive your call.”

  “Tomas, thank you for seeing me this evening at such a late hour, and please call me Ronan.”

  “Mr. Connolly…Ronan. Truly, it is my pleasure,” he replied, shaking my hand.

  “Well, where do we begin?”

  “Yes. Right this way,” he said, gesturing towards a small, private room adjacent from the showroom.

  Inside, the interior was warm and cozy, with leather chairs, a black lacquered table, and a bar hosting a few decoratively cut glass bottles. I assumed those were a specialty product as well. Tomas excused himself, and another blonde entered the room.

  “May I offer you something from the bar, Mr. Connolly?” Her French accent was flowery, a touch warm.

  “Yes. Irish whiskey, s'il vous plait. Either Jameson Vintage or Midleton Very Rare, served neat, if you have it.”

  “Bien sûr, Mr. Connolly.”

  In the corner, the fireplace crackled. I made myself comfortable in one of the leather chairs, the faint smell of cedar wood chips hung in the air. She returned with my drink and introduced herself, as Talia.

  “If you need anything at all, please do let me know, Mr. Connolly.”

  Smiling, I thanked her, and she exited the room.

  My attention turned to the local news streaming on the flat screen TV. Another five inches of snow was expected to blanket the city tonight. Nice. Holliday loved snow, so this would make her extremely happy. And I hoped what I was about to do would make her even happier. My heart began to pound. I loved her so fucking much that it hurt.

  Images of the night before flashed in my brain, pulling me deeper into that achy, intoxicating space she occupied in my mind, my body, and my soul. I remembered the feel of her hands on my body
, her soft, sexy moans of pleasure. Her fingers tugging my hair, her gorgeous body bowing towards mine, drawing me in deeper. Her breathless cries begging me to fuck her harder, faster, and just wanting more. The feel of her lips on mine, biting…tasting…sucking my tongue. Her whispering in my ear, telling me how much she loved me.

  I’d never felt so utterly, totally, blissfully happy.

  The door to the room opened, and Tomas returned carrying a large, rectangular, blue, velvet box. Taking a seat in the leather chair across from me, he opened the box, revealing the most brilliant loose diamonds and elegant platinum settings.

  “Here we are,” Tomas said, handing me the one of the settings. “Upon our earlier telephone conversation, I took the liberty of selecting four distinct settings for you to choose from.”

  He continued to speak, describing the stones, color, and clarity as I carefully inspected each stunning design. The diamonds were all four and a half carats, a few emerald and a few cushion cuts. My gaze fell to the radiant platinum double pave band setting that would crisscross around her finger. I envisioned a brilliant diamond as the center stone surrounded by those tiny exquisite diamonds.

  “Each setting is a mix of classic and modern touches, but nothing overtly trendy, something that reflects your lovely lady’s style, personally—timeless beauty. If none of these are to your liking, I can custom-design a ring.”

  “No need to design a ring, Tomas. This one…this is absolutely perfect,” I announced proudly.

  “Excellent choice, Ronan. You are in luck, because no one has viewed any of these yet. I will make sure no one replicates this design.”

  Tomas talked a bit longer, and I selected the perfect cushion-cut diamond as the center stone. Talia came back into the room to freshen up my drink. While I waited for Tomas to box the ring up and gather the paperwork for payment, I knocked the drink back.

  Now that I had the ring, next step was proposing, and I knew exactly how I would. I planned on taking Holliday to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, for a romantic weekend getaway, just the two of us. I wanted to propose on the exact day we met one year ago—cheesy maybe, but Holliday would appreciate the sentiment.

  The drive home was much easier. I stepped off the elevator and tossed my keys into the bowl on the credenza. I needed to get the ring out of my coat pocket and into the safe in my office. From the hallway, I saw Holliday sitting in the living room, curled up with a cashmere blanket and her iPad. For a moment, I just admired her. She was all beauty and brains, and she was braver than anyone I knew. She was perfect—perfect for me.

  I couldn’t help but feel emotional at the sight spread before me and how it reminded me so much of last December, essentially our first Christmas together. The well-decorated Douglas fir in the corner gleamed with white light. Cinnamon and sugar filled every corner of the room, and the fireplace crackled and snapped—a hypnotic scene, warm and sleep-inducing. Or maybe it was sex-inducing.

  “Hey,” she said, looking up at me with a sleepy smile.

  “Hi.” I pressed a kiss to her lips. “How was your day?”

  “It was exhausting but good, and yours?”

  Her bright eyes were heavy-lidded, and her silky, dark hair cascaded in waves over her shoulder. I wanted to freeze this moment and hold on to it forever. The ring in my pocket was burning up, and it took every ounce of my strength to not say fuck my plan and drop to one knee right here.

  “Mine was also good, but it’s even better now that I’m home with you,” I answered, shrugging out of my coat.

  Holliday moved to make room for me in the chair. I scooped her up and pulled her onto my lap. In a few weeks, I’d ask her to be my wife, and she would say yes. She was mine, and I was hers. It was as simple as that.

  “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

  “Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Connolly?”

  “Yes,” I said, nuzzling her neck.

  “I thought you didn’t date?”

  “Well, around this time last year, I met this wild beauty who stole my heart and captured my soul. I’m completely smitten.”

  She gazed at me in that way that told me I meant everything to her. “Are you saying you’re in love?”

  “Deeply,” I whispered into her hair. “So, will you meet me at The York Hotel on New Year’s Eve?”

  “Possibly. Where will I find you?”

  “I’ll be the dapper gentleman in the tux, sitting by the fire.” I threaded my fingers with hers, cuddling her close.

  “That could be any number of men in Manhattan.”

  “You have a solid point,” I murmured, brushing her hair aside to kiss her neck. “But I’m the only one who will know your drink order”

  “Oh? And what would that be?”

  “A Chocolate Kiss, of course,” I answered, trailing my thumb across her lips.

  “Of course,” she said. “I think I like your kisses better.”

  “Well, you can have those too, any time you want,” I promised, tilting her mouth to mine. I kissed her deeply, brushing my tongue with hers. “I’m right here.”

  “And here I am,” she said breathlessly. “Next to you, right where I should be—in your arms.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that.”

  And that was the God’s honest truth. Without Holliday, there was an empty space. She filled me with love and adoration. What more could I ask for?

  “Yours,” she whispered. “I’m yours—always.”

  “So, I guess this means I have a date for New Year’s Eve?”

  “It seems that fate would have it no other way.”

  Ten Years Later

  New York City

  Holliday

  “Mom, Dad, Holliday, and Dax,” Leah announced from the head of the table. “I’ve decided to attend NYU. I want to become an actress.”

  “Shit,” Ronan mumbled under his breath.

  “Daddy.” Leah’s voice exuded sweetness. “I know what you’re thinking, but you will be proud because I’m double-majoring in business.”

  “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that,” he said with a full smile.

  “Yes. Like you, I want to have a solid backup plan if this whole Hollywood thing doesn’t work out.”

  “You might as well leak a sex tape now, because your acting skills suck,” Jade said, lifting her head from her smartphone.

  I bit my lip to stifle a laugh, and I immediately covered our son’s ears. Our daughter was too young to understand what her half-sister was saying.

  “Watch your tongue, young lady,” Emma admonished.

  Jade said that she was sorry, but she really wasn’t, not bothering to hide the look of smug satisfaction on her face.

  Of course, my niece and nephew were laughing their asses off. Charlotte and Lucan had heard worse from the terrible teen twosome, I was sure. They still had their sweet moments, but oh my, teenagers scared the shit out of me.

  Nudging my husband, I said, “Remember when they all used to be so fucking sweet?”

  He laughed and ordered another bottle of champagne for the table.

  “I heard that, Aunt Holliday,” Owen said, cocking an eyebrow in my direction.

  I shrugged and told him not to tell anyone. He shook his head and continued eating his waffles.

  At the head of the table, Leah looked defeated. Quick thinking had me on my feet. Raising my glass, I offered a toast.

  “Leah, congratulations on your college decision, and here’s to pursuing your dreams.”

  “Oh, thank you, Holliday!” she squealed, excitement beaming in her eyes. Eyes so green that they dazzled like her father’s. “I’m sure I won’t need my business degree, considering my father is an Oscar-winning actor and my mother is a five-time Emmy winner. My DNA pool is deep.”

  Emma and Dax nearly choked on their champagne.

  I sat down and expelled a deep breath. “Holy shit, she’s cocky,” I whispered to Ronan. “I wonder where she gets that from.”

  “My beauty,” he whispere
d. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you. Just wait until I get you in bed. I plan to keep you there all weekend.”

  Those words twisted deliciously inside me. Then a shiver racked my brain as I remembered the afternoon I’d found out I was pregnant with Michael James and how I’d narrowly escaped throwing up on the red carpet. My husband tried desperately to get us to skip the event that day by keeping me in bed. Thank goodness we had been near the end of the press line, or Ryan Seacrest and the entire world would have witnessed me vomiting. A trip to the French Riviera and a few days of being sun-drenched, screwed senseless, and plied with booze and I’d forgotten to take my pill.

  This was why, a few weeks later, I’d found myself hauling ass to the ladies’ room at the Royal Opera House. Ronan had chased after me. As soon as I’d dropped to my knees in a couture gown, everything in my stomach had come up. It had been awful. Five minutes later, when I’d emerged, my husband had a handsome smirk on his face.

  “Are you okay?” he’d asked.

  I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face. “I…I think I might have the flu or be pregnant. It’s a toss-up, and I’m fairly certain that I ruined my dress.”

  Over his shoulder, a mass of paparazzi were snapping pictures of us, and I hid my face. Ronan stepped away and asked them to please respect our privacy. They left us alone, and before I knew it, Ronan had security taking us to our limo with instructions to go to the Portland Hospital. After a round of tests, we learned the news that I was eight weeks pregnant. Ronan was overwhelmed with joy, and once the shock wore off and I saw how happy he was, I knew that everything was going to be all right. We’d been married for three years at that point, but we hadn’t had time to think about starting a family. So the decision had been made for us.

  Our daughter, Arabella Grace, had been planned, the product of our six-year anniversary. She had been conceived at The York. I might tell her someday when I think she can handle it and not end up in therapy.

  Michael looked exactly like his father: bright-green eyes and curly, dark-brown hair. Arabella’s my mini-me, a mass of wavy, beach-blonde hair and blue-green eyes. Once in a while, I’d change up my hair color, but Ronan loved me as a brunette. He teased me that he felt like he was with a different woman when it was blonde.