by Lizzie Shane
“I don’t see how that’s my problem.”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “It isn’t. You don’t owe me anything. I just…I wanted to explain.”
She arched a brow in a classic I’m waiting gesture.
Her father cleared his throat. “It was easier,” he said. “It’s no excuse, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t ready to be a dad and my orders gave me the perfect excuse not to be. I was protecting the country. I was a hero. And when I got back stateside, I told myself you didn’t need me. You didn’t know me. You’d been doing fine while I was gone. You were taken care of. And what did I know about kids? What could I possibly do with you? I was a kid and I wanted to believe you had it better with your mom and your grandparents than you would have had with me. I wanted to believe you didn’t need me, because I needed to believe I hadn’t done anything wrong by not being around. Your mom sent me pictures and you looked happy. You were better off. I told myself that so many times it had to be true. I couldn’t accept anything else, because if I did then I had to admit I’d screwed up. And that I’d failed you.”
“I get it when you were nineteen,” she said. “I do. But when you were in your thirties? When you brought Michelle up to Long Shores to meet me like some kind of parental Show and Tell?”
“I didn’t think of it that way. Michelle wanted to meet you—”
Maggie nodded. “So it was her idea. I wondered about that.”
“It was Lolly’s idea.”
Maggie laughed softly. “Of course it was.” Lolly, who never met a problem she didn’t want to fix.
“I didn’t realize you expected to come live with us. I didn’t think you wanted—”
“You never asked what I wanted,” she reminded him. “You never bothered to know me.”
He nodded, lowering his head. “I’m sorry.”
She’d been waiting a long time for those words and hearing them just made her sad. “Me too.”
She’d wanted that to be enough. For his regret to magically make her feel different. Just like she’d wanted the fame and success to magically make her feel whole. But it didn’t work like that. She was still angry at him. Though maybe the thousand little razor cuts inside her chest didn’t hurt quite so much anymore.
He looked up. “Do you think we could…?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” There was no starting over. There was no magically wiping the slate clean and pretending the last thirty years hadn’t happened. But she didn’t want to wake up in twenty years wishing she’d taken the chance when it was offered. “Maybe we can get coffee sometime,” she offered.
“I’d like that. I have to fly back for work tomorrow, but I have a few hours—”
“Not today. I’m sure I’ll be in Florida again at some point. Or, you know, I’m an eccentric movie star. Flying across the country for coffee is pretty much our thing.”
He nodded, his eyes bright as they met hers. “Right.”
She looked away. “I should get to set,” she mumbled—though no one had come to fetch her. This was enough real drama for one day. She had fake drama to create.
And maybe when they wrapped filming for the night, she’d finish that letter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ian stared at the security gate and wondered, on a scale of one to abject moron, what a fool he was about to make of himself.
He’d arrived in Los Angeles and made his way to the studio lot where a Hollywood insider article said Maggie was filming her new movie—but he’d failed to take into account the fact that arriving at the gate and informing the guard that he was there to surprise Maggie Tate was a good way to get banned from the lot for life.
His mother and daughter had convinced him that showing up in person was better than calling or texting—his mother insisting that groveling only worked in person and his daughter gushing about Notting Hill, a movie he didn’t even know she’d seen. Sadie had called it a real movie moment—but that movie moment didn’t look like it was going to happen.
“I can call the set and see if she’ll see you,” the guard offered, though the look in his eyes clearly said he was expecting the answer to involve a restraining order.
He could text her. He had her number. He’d considered texting her a dozen times during the road trip down here. But if they were filming he wasn’t even sure she’d have her phone on her.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Ian Summer.”
“I.D.”
He fished out his license and handed it over. The guard studied it for a moment before nodding and picking up the phone.
Sadie had stayed back at the hotel with his mother—which, at the time, he’d appreciated since he wasn’t sure he wanted an audience for his conversation with Maggie, but now he wished he had his cheerleaders close by.
It would serve him right if she refused to see him. What kind of man broke up with a woman and then showed up at her place of work and expected her to give him the time of day?
A moment later, the guard hung up the phone, frowning. “You can park to the left. Any of the first floor visitor spaces. Stay with your vehicle. Someone from the set will come get you.”
His expression was so stern it took Ian a moment to realize he was in. He took his first deep breath in several minutes. “Thanks.”
Ian followed the guard’s instructions, parking his mother’s SUV and staying inside it, drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. His guitar case sat beside him on the passenger seat. His mother had encouraged him to bring it, arguing that if his musical talent couldn’t help him get back the woman he loved, what was it good for? But now it felt silly, the idea of whipping out his guitar and hoping a song would change her mind.
He would know when he saw her. Things had always just clicked into place when they saw one another. He would know if it was still there, that thing between them. If she could forgive him.
A petite woman with a headset appeared at the car door, knocking on the window and startling him out of his thoughts. Get it together, Summer. He opened the door, forcing a smile, as if he hadn’t just jumped a mile.
“Ian Summer?” she asked, bright eyes curious.
“Yeah.”
She nodded. “Follow me.”
A brisk walk and a metal detector later, Ian found himself in front of a stubby trailer with a star on the door. His chest tightened, but the woman with the headset knocked on the door before he could decide whether he was having a heart attack or not.
The door opened and there she was. Maggie Tate, in all her glory.
She was in costume for the movie, the shoulder of her shirt torn and her hair artfully mussed—and he’d never seen anyone more beautiful.
She didn’t smile—and he didn’t feel that instant zing of connection he’d been hoping for, her turquoise eyes wary as she nodded in greeting. “Ian. Come in.” He climbed the steps and let the door shut behind him as she moved to the farthest corner of the small trailer. “This was fast. I only sent the letter two days ago.”
“What letter?”
She really looked at him then, some of the reserve falling away. “You just came?”
“Well, Sadie’d never been to LA and…” Fuck. What was he saying? He couldn’t remember a single word of the speech he’d prepared. He told himself he was going to stop playing it safe. Hiding in the freaking sand. “I missed you.” Her eyes widened, but there was no backing out now. “I was so full of shit when I said it wasn’t real,” he blurted.
“Really?” Her voice lifted, the word soft and hopeful.
“My mom thought I should serenade you. That polled well with the locals in Long Shores who weighed in, so I brought my guitar.” She glanced down at his empty hands. “It’s in the car. SUV. My mom’s SUV. You know the one. I can get it. The guitar.” Fuck. Now he was babbling.
“You drove here?”
“I missed you,” he repeated. “And I need to stop burying myself in Long Shores. Pretending I’m happiest on my own. Shoving
everyone else away. Shoving you away.” He met her eyes, those insane, unreal turquoise eyes, filled with a thousand questions. “Everyone saw it before I did, because apparently I’m an idiot, but I—Maggie, I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the leeches.” Her eyebrows flew up and he cringed. “That’s not how I meant to say that.”
Maggie’s eyes got huge—and then she began to laugh.
* * * * *
Ian was frowning, his brows tight and his eyes worried, but Maggie couldn’t seem to stop the giddiness bubbling out of her.
“You loved me since the leeches?” Another round of giggles took hold and she tried to force herself to stop, but once she’d started it was impossible to stop. “You know, Ian, I’ve heard a lot of protestations of love, written by some pretty talented writers. I have delivered dozens of them for the cameras, and they all kind of start to sound the same, but I have to say I’ve loved you since the leeches is unique. And I think it’s my favorite.”
His frown eased, a slow smile replacing it. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Though I might be biased since I love you too.”
His grin spread and he took a step toward her, that single step halving the distance separating them in the narrow trailer. “Yeah?”
“Since the leeches,” she confirmed. “I had this idea that I needed to be loved by the whole world, but I never really thought about what it was to love someone back. Until you. And Sadie.”
“She misses you too. All of Long Shores does.”
Maggie bit her lip, reminded of the incompatibility of their lives. “I just agreed to do the next Alien Adventuress movie. I’ll have to be here to film—”
“Sadie’s out of school for the summer and I’m working on this new concept I’ve been hearing about: compromise. If you want to be with us, we’ll work it out.”
“Really?”
“Long Shores. LA. Timbuktu. We’ll make it work,” he promised, taking another step until they were separated by inches.
“The paparazzi aren’t going to stop being a problem,” she reminded him, wanting to get all of the obstacles out of the way before she kissed him, because she didn’t think she would ever stop.
“We can handle it. And the people of Long Shores are fully committed to forming a human barrier between you and any photographers if you want to come back.”
“I do. I love it there. I want to go back whenever we can. Hang out with Sadie on the beach and go to the Gull. Maybe I can even pull some strings and get us those amazing Mariners seats she wants.”
He groaned, shaking his head. “She’s going to be so spoiled.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is happy.”
He met her eyes. “I think it is.” His gaze lowered to her lips as he lifted one hand to gently brush her cheek. “Will I destroy your make-up if I kiss you?”
“Probably,” she murmured, going up on her toes. “The make-up artist’s name is Alice. Be sure you apologize profusely.”
Her lips pressed to his and she felt him smile—then she felt him dedicate himself to the kiss.
The man was nothing if not determined.
“I’m sorry I was an idiot,” he murmured again when he broke the kiss several minutes later, those black eyes with their thick lashes inches from hers.
“I’m sorry I overreacted about the whole still-being-married thing.”
“No, you were right. I should have told you. But I contacted Scarlett. We’re starting divorce proceedings.” He grimaced. “It might take a few months, but we’re working on it. And she’s coming out to see Sadie in a few weeks. Which I hope is the right thing.”
He worried so much about that little girl. Maggie’s heart clutched. “It’s going to be okay,” she assured him, squeezing him gently around the waist. “She has us.”
Ian met her eyes. “I like the sound of that.”
This time when he finally lifted his head after a long, sweet kiss, he gently brushed her chin, placing his thumb in the divot there. “You know Sadie did tell everyone we were engaged. I’ve been talking to her about her loose relationship with honesty and I’m not sure we should encourage her by making one of her lies true, but I’ve heard worse ideas…”
Maggie laughed at the hopeful tone. “Didn’t you just say you were still married?”
“Only for a few more months. So not an immediate wedding—”
“That’s probably a good idea. I don’t have the best track record with elopements.”
Ian lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m not in a hurry. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’re interested. The wedding’s just a ceremony.”
“And a party.” She grinned. “Don’t forget the party.”
It was funny, she’d always wanted a picture perfect wedding so she could show everyone how perfect her life was, how much she was worshiped and adored by her spouse. But with Ian, everything was different. She wanted everyone she knew to be there so she could share the happiness that was spilling out of every pore. It wasn’t about how much she was loved, but rather about how much she loved. And she planned to do a lot of that.
Ian had been the first boy she ever wanted. The first boy she ever kissed. The one who helped her find her name and helped her find her dreams again when they got lost. The one who always made her feel brave—like the best, boldest, strongest version of herself. And made her feel like home, even when they were doing nothing more than staring at a fire or listening to old albums.
Suddenly she bounced on her toes. “Did I tell you I met Lorenzo Tate’s kid?”
“You’re kidding.”
“It’s true! He’s one of the bodyguards for a company I use all the time. All I wanted to do was tell you about it, but you weren’t here. I hated that you weren’t here.”
“I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
Ian smiled. “You, Dolores Lori Margaret Maggie Terchovsky Tate, are stuck with me.”
She grinned. “Good.”
He jiggled his arms where they were looped around her. “So you gonna marry me or what?”
She laughed. “Yeah. I think I just might.”
He kissed the laughter off her lips, but Maggie couldn’t stop smiling—even when they were interrupted by a knock at the door calling her to set and had to apologize repeatedly to Alice for making her redo all her hard work.
Sometimes a woman just had to kiss the man she loved and beg forgiveness later.
EPILOGUE
The seats were incredibly comfortable in the luxury box adjoining the owner’s suite, but Maggie doubted Sadie knew it since she’d spent the entire game standing pressed against the railing at the front of the box, cheering for her team and agonizing over every pitch. The Mariners were in the playoff hunt—as Sadie had explained repeatedly and in great detail on the drive up from Long Shores this morning—and they were down by two in the bottom of the seventh.
Kirpa, Sadie’s best-friend-forever-and-ever, hung on the railing beside her, avidly watching the game and hanging on Sadie’s every word, though Maggie got the sense Kirpa understood about as much of the action as she herself did. Sadie and Kirpa had built their bond as summer pen pals over Harry Potter, not sports, though Kirpa seemed to be picking up the nuances of the game faster than Maggie was.
Maggie still couldn’t tell a slider from a split-finger. Whatever that was.
Ian was sprawled at her side, his arm draped along the back of her chair. That arm was surprisingly relaxed for a man who stiffened and shouted every time some inexplicable bit of action occurred down on the field. He’d been more relaxed in general lately. Maggie would love to take all the credit for that, but she had a feeling it had more to do with the fact that he was playing again, and writing music in his spare time.
He’d been violently opposed to the idea of trading on her industry connections to advance his music career, so she’d promised not to interfere—but Ian was insanely talented, so when the direct
or of the little indie film she’d done earlier in the summer had heard him playing for her in her trailer, she hadn’t had to say a word. He’d begged Ian to put one of his songs on the soundtrack and, now that the film was screening at film festivals to rave reviews, Ian was starting to get calls from other directors who wanted his work. He’d even insisted on paying for the luxury suite himself, with the proceeds from his first royalty check.
Mel was annoyed with him for not taking her advice and signing with the music agent she’d recommended—but other than that her lover and her manager were getting along better than Maggie could have ever dreamed. Mel sat in the row behind them in head-to-toe Dodger gear, likely just to be contrary and wind Ian up—which he seemed to enjoy.
Maggie hadn’t expected that friendship, but when she questioned Ian about it, he’d said Mel reminded him of Lolly. It was a comparison Maggie never would have made on her own, but once he mentioned it she’d started seeing the similarities between the two strong women who loved to run other people’s lives.
Mel’s new girlfriend sat beside her, listening intently as Mel explained the game—as if she hadn’t just learned all the rules herself four months ago in a bid to out-do Ian’s knowledge of baseball.
Mrs. Summer—who Maggie still had a hard time calling Allison—perched behind Mel in the back row of the luxury box with a couple of her book club friends and Ellen from Long Shores, the four of them giggling over margaritas. Ian often complained that he was surrounded by women, but she knew he loved their patchwork family—and there was at least one other representative from Team Testosterone there today, since Bree and Cross sat on Mel’s other side, having flown up with them on the jet yesterday.
Sadie’s school would be starting in a few days and they’d decided to keep her at St. Vincent’s for at least one more year—in part because she was so excited to go back. She and Kirpa were in the same class this year and they would be dissecting frogs, both of which were apparently strong marks in favor of St. Vincent’s over LA schools. The frog thing sounded like a terrible reason to Maggie, but Sadie was inexplicably excited about it.
