Chapter 11
“If they grew to like you before they knew who you were, it would make things easier . . .”
—Gertrude Chandler Warner, The Boxcar Children
Watch greeted Dancy at the door of the caboose as if they’d been separated for years. She gave him a belly rub and smiled
as she thought about her encounter with Erin. “Right when life can’t get any stranger, you find a friend.”
His tail thumped on the floorboards in a way that seemed to indicate he also found the mysteries of life perplexing.
She began unpacking her groceries. As she withdrew the oranges, she imagined the sweet tang of a vodka screwdriver sliding
down her throat. And then another. And another.
Watch began to bark, the door of the caboose opened, and her ex-husband made his entrance. She yanked broccoli out of the
bag. “Nice knock.”
Her traitorous dog was delighted to have a new person to jump all over, but Roth wasn’t a dog person and nudged him away with his foot. He took in the potbelly stove, the unmatched furniture, and the drop cloth wadded against the wall. “You’re really staying in this place?”
“Isn’t it great? Clint and I both like our own space. It makes the sex more exciting.”
He was studying her in that way he had, trying not to let her see he was taking in her imperfections. His gaze moved from
her shorter hair to her lips, which hadn’t been plumped with fillers since before their divorce. He knew she’d fired the trainer
they had shared, and it wasn’t hard for him to see how much body tone she’d lost. He wasn’t stupid enough to mention any of
this, but his scrutiny reminded her of how exhausting it had been trying to live up to his standards of perfection. Standards
that, in fairness, he was as stringent about applying to himself. Before they met, he’d had both rhinoplasty and extensive
cosmetic dental work. Later, an excellent surgeon had strengthened his jawline and, more recently, done a little tightening
around his eyes.
“Why did you come here of all places?” he said.
“To rekindle a relationship with Clint, the love of my life.” She looked more closely at his hair. Unless she was mistaken,
it was a shade darker than it used to be, hiding whatever minuscule threads of gray had the audacity to emerge.
“You embarrassed yourself in Chicago.” Roth made it less an accusation and more a statement of concern.
“And I embarrassed you,” she pointed out.
He shrugged, his shoulders narrower than Clint’s both because of his smaller frame and his belief that he looked taller with his shoulders proportional to his hips, something she couldn’t imagine her high school boyfriend ever once thinking about.
“I don’t understand why you fell apart like that,” Roth said. “Our divorce hardly shattered you.”
She set the oranges on the counter with a little too much force. Roth hated conflict, something she used to respect but no
longer cared about. “You know how much I wanted a child. Letting me find out Bisa is pregnant in public instead of telling
me privately was shitty.”
“There’s a difference. Bisa is the right age to have a child, and—”
She grabbed an orange and hurled it directly at his head.
Unfortunately, he ducked. “There’s no need for that.”
Watch, sensing a new game, chased after the orange while Roth looked hurt. “I didn’t know you’d be there.”
She fought the urge to throw another orange. “But you knew the press would be, and you decided to let them do the job for
you instead of picking up your phone and calling me. God forbid Roth Hardy should be forced to have a difficult conversation.”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
She curled her lip. “We both know how much you hate arguing.”
He gave her his Cole Legend stare, the stare that warned nefarious arms dealers, international terrorists, and rogue assassins
that all hell was about to break loose. But in his personal life, that stare only meant that Roth was contemplating how to
weasel out of an uncomfortable situation without losing his charm.
“I want the best for you,” he finally said. “That’s why I’m here. Valerie and I have a new project. We’re going to start shooting
soon. I think you should read it.”
He’d finally managed to surprise her. Valerie Evers was both one of Dancy’s few remaining friends and Roth’s longtime producing partner at the company he and Valerie had founded, Hard Heart Productions. For the first time, Dancy noticed the envelope he was carrying.
“Shooting starts soon,” he said. “I’m playing Tom. You’d be perfect for Lucinda. Read it and then we can talk.” He set down
the envelope, gave her a nod, and walked out of the caboose, leaving her stunned.
Dancy’s heart raced. A part for her? She hurried to the couch, praying Lucinda wasn’t another bimbo. Her hand shook as she
opened the envelope, and the script slid out. She took in the title page.
Everything I Have.
Two hours later, Dancy had finished the script and she could barely contain her excitement. She heard a knock below and set
the script on the old leather bench next to her in the cupola. Watch began to bark, and since Roth didn’t believe Dancy deserved
the courtesy of a knock, it could only be Clint.
“Leave me alone!” she called down.
The door opened and a firm set of footsteps entered. Watch’s barks grew ecstatic, and peering down from the cupola, she saw
him racing zoomies around the small interior.
Clint looked up as she climbed down the ladder. Again, she felt the difference between the two men. Clint filled every space
with the command of a man accustomed to conquering stadiums, while Roth merely dusted his environment with the manufactured
glitter of stardust.
“Fair warning,” Clint said. “Your ex-husband wants to hang around one more night, and I told him he could. It’s only right
I let you know.”
“That’s great.”
“Great? This morning you wanted to stab me to death for letting them stay, and now you’re telling me it’s great?”
She collapsed on the couch, the script in her hand. “He brought me this to read. His production company is behind the project,
and they’re ready to start filming. It’s the anatomy of a marriage falling apart.”
“Sounds fun.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “It’s a lot more than fun. Roth is playing the husband, Tom, and I think he wants me to play Lucinda,
the wife.”
He settled at the other end of the couch. “That’s what you want, right?”
“More than anything. It’s a good script. It’s funny and tragic—and—I know this sounds weird—but epic in how ordinarily human
it is.”
Watch rested his muzzle on his sneaker. She tucked a leg under her, not bothering to hide her excitement. “Tom is a former
college athlete. Lucinda is an ex–fashion model. They’re only in their mid-thirties, but they’re stuck in the past. Each believes
the world owes them something it’s not delivering. They’re struggling with their careers, their parents, their friends, and
with each other. Tom thinks having a baby will fix their lives and their marriage, but Lucinda wants to keep everything the
way it is.”
Clint listened in that intense way he had, as if he held a personal stake in what she was telling him.
“Lucinda wants Tom to look at her the same way he did when they were twenty. She’s a woman who can only see herself as she’s
reflected in other people’s eyes.” She rubbed her palms on her shorts, not looking at him. “I understand that.”
“It sounds as if it was written for you,” he said sincerely.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
Watch jumped on the couch next to Clint, and when Clint didn’t reprimand him like Dancy would have, Watch smirked at her,
but she was too caught up in her enthusiasm to admonish him. “This is exactly what I’ve been dreaming about, but after what
happened in Chicago, I didn’t believe it could happen.”
A moment of understanding—of connection—passed between them, their mutual appreciation of the opportunity to do good work.
“That explains why he showed up here.”
“Roth’s been looking for a script with an indie feel for a long time. He wants to prove his acting chops beyond Cole Legend.
He’s also taken hits in the press for moving on so quickly after our divorce, and he hates being the bad guy. If he gives
me this part, his PR people will broadcast his generosity in offering his former wife the part of a lifetime and proclaim
what good friends we still are. His nice guy reputation will be burnished even more.”
Clint crossed an ankle over his knee. “And you don’t mind?”
“If he casts me to play Lucinda, I’ll lead his cheering squad. I need to talk to him.”
“We’re going sailing this afternoon, so you’ll have to wait until this evening.”
She smiled. “How sweet. The two of you are having a bromance.”
“He’s an interesting guy. I like him.”
“And one more person drinks the Hardy Kool-Aid.”
Now he was the one with a smile. “I promise. I’ll only take a small sip.”
“Right now, I don’t care if you drink the whole glass. Are you making dinner for them tonight?”
“You’re not invited.”
“I have to be invited. You and I are in a relationship, remember? I’ll bring a salad.”
“Do you even know how to make a salad?”
“You forget I was raised by housekeepers. It’s shocking how many things I know how to do that I don’t choose to do.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He rose from the couch and scratched Watch behind the ears. “Go easy on Bisa, okay?”
“Once again, your chivalry shines through.”
“She’s hardly uttered a complete sentence all day.”
“I’ve heard you do that to women.”
He ignored the dig. “I hope she’ll be able to handle it if he decides not to marry her.”
“He’ll marry her. Not marrying his baby mama would be a bad look for him.” Dancy thought of Bisa carrying the baby that should
be hers. She blinked hard. “I’ll be docile.”
He laughed. “That’ll be fun to watch.”
Last night Roth had seen her in her only remotely presentable outfit, the mini-dress she’d made from Rory’s cover-up. Knowing
she had nothing to wear tonight that would come close to meeting her ex-husband’s exacting standards, she again reached for