Chapter 25 INT. A GUEST ROOM IN COLE’S HOUSE
Chapter 25
INT. A GUEST ROOM IN COLE’S HOUSE
Maggie hadn’t cried when she was fired from her teaching job. That was confusing and humiliating and enraging, but it happened so fast and had been so shocking, she didn’t have time to sob about it. She’d had to act.
But somewhere along the way, she’d processed the pain of losing her teaching career. Add in the emotions Cole had grown in her and the fact that she’d started to enjoy working in Hollywood and feeling competent again, and it all mixed together, overwhelming her tear ducts.
Today, Maggie cried like she hadn’t cried in years.
She cried because the situation was embarrassing. She didn’t like thinking of herself as being proud, but it turned out being fired twice in two years was mortifying. You suck in all industries : that was the message. And she was going to have to tell her parents—her parents —about it. Yet again, she’d let them down, and now she could add Zoya and Bernard to the list of people she’d disappointed.
She cried because she didn’t know what she was going to do now. To stave off financial ruin, yes, but also just ... generally. What else did she like? What else was she good at?
Nothing. The universe was strongly suggesting she was good at nothing.
She cried because she’d messed up and couldn’t blame anyone but herself. Falling for someone she’d directed was a bad, bad idea. She hadn’t been confused about that. She hadn’t even thought she was going to get away with it, not really. Maybe this blowing up in her face wasn’t that surprising. The world had sucked so much the last few years. Of course this had gone wrong too.
But mostly, she cried because she loved Cole. She loved him so damn much.
This situation would’ve been easier, maybe, if their relationship had simply been lust. But it wasn’t. They had been good together. Were good together.
Stupid as it was, this story was going to hurt him, and it was going to drag down the show. Maggie believed so much in the work they’d done on Waverley . And Zoya ... she must be livid at them for endangering all that. As well she should be.
When at last Maggie’s tear ducts had run out of cry juice and she felt as dried out as beef jerky, she stumbled into the shower. The guest bathroom was less impressive than Cole’s. It only had one showerhead, which honestly seemed kind of unfair now that she’d gotten used to luxury.
After her shower, Maggie had to face another problem: all her clean clothes were in Cole’s room. The room she’d begun to think might be her room too. Because if she’d been able to keep the intimacy-coordinator job, it would’ve made sense to sell her condo in Eugene and move to LA. And if she was going to be with Cole most of the time anyhow, it would make sense to move in with him.
The funny part—funny in a way that made Maggie sick—was that she didn’t doubt that Cole loved her. She didn’t doubt that she loved him. She didn’t doubt that they could’ve made it work.
Maybe still could?
She was in the barrel roll, and until the world stopped whipping madly around, she couldn’t get the context she needed to know what the future might look like.
But it required clean underwear.
Wrapped in a towel, she tiptoed down the hallway to his room. After she was dressed, she headed to the kitchen for food. Cole was wearing sweaty workout clothes, pacing and talking quietly into his phone, when she came into the living room.
“I’ll call you back,” he told whoever it was.
“I see the burritos arrived.” Maggie’s sobbing and shower break had been more than an hour. Way more than enough time for their food to be delivered.
Honestly, they were truly amazing burritos. She understood why he’d bought the house.
Cole watched her tear into one. Sobbing your guts out was hungry work.
Maggie wanted so badly to know what he was thinking, but she was also so tired, and this conversation—it wasn’t going to be easy or good. The future was a muddle, and Cole was going to demand certainty from her. A certainty that she didn’t have. At least she had rice and beans and really good guacamole.
When she’d finished and drained not one but two glasses of water, he said, “Your phone has been blowing up.”
She’d forgotten to take it with her into the guest room, which had probably been a blessing. She didn’t want to see what people were saying about her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you right then. I was ... overwhelmed, and I needed a minute to process it.”
“And you’ve done that?” He seemed darkly amused by the possibility.
From her previous experience having her life wrecked, she knew that it would be months before she’d understand all the things she was feeling right now. “Nope. I’m so ... mad. At myself. At whoever gave those quotes. But there’s so much more. It’s like an ocean of feelings inside me, and I’m not ready to talk to you about them. I need some time, Cole.”
The moment stretched and stretched between them. He wanted to press, she could tell. But he was trying to give her space. Maybe he was afraid if he pushed, he wouldn’t like the answer.
She knew if he pressed, neither of them would like the answer.
“Okay.” He wasn’t happy about it, but he accepted it. That had to be enough. “Let me tell you what Brett said.”
As Maggie had assumed, there wasn’t much news. His team was looking into the story and writing up a response, which would go out very soon. Cole had texted with Tasha and Ryan, who were figuring out how to comment, and he’d talked to Zoya. The showrunner was furious. She’d gotten her own people on the case, along with the production company’s team.
Because everyone Maggie knew now had “people.”
But everyone’s main focus was rehabilitating Cole, as it should be. He was the face of the upcoming season of Waverley , and they didn’t want him to be damaged goods.
Maggie didn’t rate. She didn’t have people—not that kind of people.
“The story isn’t getting much traction outside of town, not yet,” Cole was saying. “So far, people on social media seem skeptical about it. We might be able to contain it.”
Contain it? The damage had already been done, at least as far as Maggie was concerned. She’d been fired. Her reputation had taken a crushing blow, and she wasn’t going to be able to recover.
Still, she said, “I’m glad.” And she was. For him. “I’m going to call Savannah.” Cole might have a lawyer and a publicist and an agent, but the only person Maggie wanted to talk to was her best friend. “I was going to see if she could catch a flight down. Is that okay?” Is it okay if I invite someone to crash at your house? That was what she was really asking.
“Of course.” Cole didn’t hesitate, didn’t waver. If anything, he looked more hopeful. More happy.
Maggie wished—she wished so many things. That the story hadn’t broken. That she hadn’t been fired. That she could be as certain as Cole that this relationship had a future.
She knew she loved him, and right now, that was about it. The river of tears had swept through her and ripped everything loose. The life she’d put back together was a pile of junk sitting in the gutter. She was going to have to sort through it all and see if something, anything, could be salvaged.
“Thanks.”
And with that, she offered him a sad smile before retreating back to the guest room to dig through the flotsam of her life all over again.
EXT. COLE’S HOUSE
Cole had arranged for a driver to pick up Savannah at LAX the next morning and bring her to his house. But Maggie was surprised when she climbed out of the car with one of Maggie’s pothos in hand.
“You brought my plants?”
“I smuggled this one in. I thought you might need a friend.” Savannah flung her free arm around Maggie.
Maggie sank into the hug. She’d never needed one more. She hadn’t been comfortable touching Cole, not when touching Cole had been the thing that had set all this in motion in the first place.
“I can’t believe you came. Thank you.”
Savannah pulled back, her expression incredulous. “Of course I did. You think I was going to pass up a chance to sleep”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“in Cole James’s house?”
“I hope it will be exciting enough to justify the trip. Come on in.”
Maggie took the plant, which honestly did make her feel better, and Savannah collected her luggage.
Ten minutes later, they were sitting in Cole’s backyard, drinking lime water. Even with the short notice, Savannah had somehow managed to wrangle together the perfect SoCal outfit: a drapey minidress in a bohemian fabric and cola-tinted sunglasses. With a scarf tied around her ash-blonde hair and a tangle of necklaces around her neck, she could’ve doubled for a young Stevie Nicks.
For the moment, at least, they were alone. Cole had left to train with Ryan just before Savannah had arrived, so they had some time to process things before he showed up and was ... perfect.
Because Maggie had no doubt that with Savannah, he would be, as ever, perfect.
“Do you want some sunscreen?” Cole had a basket by the back door with enough of it for a small army.
“I already have some on, Mom .”
“Cancer protection is one of Co—it’s important to take care of yourself.”
Savannah regarded Maggie over the top of her sunglasses. “Oh, is that one of Cole’s bugaboos?”
Maggie knew Savannah would never give quotes to the press, but she also reveled in juicy details about the life that Maggie had—at least until yesterday—fallen into. Who wouldn’t?
Besides, Maggie had walked right into this one. “Yeah, he’s really on top of UV blockers. He might be rubbing off on me.”
“A professional thing, I’m sure. But is he rubbing anything else?” Savannah asked that with the same casual tone she might use to ask if Maggie had eaten a peach or changed brands of facial scrub.
“From time to time,” Maggie said, equally casually.
“From time to time?” Savannah was almost offended. “It’d be a shame to be fired if you aren’t hitting that on the regular. Please tell me that you have stroked those glorious abs.”
Maggie chuckled for the first time in twenty-four hours. It was good to know that her sense of humor wasn’t broken. “I have.”
“And?”
“They’re amazing.” Everything about Cole was amazing. His amazingness was so not the problem.
“Also, tell me Tasha Russell is single and you’re going to introduce me.”
“This has to stay under the cone of silence because it isn’t public yet, but I regret to inform you that Tasha is not single.”
“Boo.”
“I take it that Emily is not back?”
“Sadly, I think this breakup is going to take.” Savannah seemed to be over it, though Maggie was going to have to push later to figure out if that was real or a front.
“That sucks.”
“It does.” Savannah rearranged to get more sun on her face. “So are we going to talk about it?” It being Maggie’s abrupt lack of a job.
“Can we stick with Cole’s abs?”
“Firing first, abs later.”
“Fine. I can’t believe this happened to me again. I used to be so good . How have I stumbled into multiple work scandals? Like, I have now been fired by two different industries. That’s impressive for someone who likes to follow all the rules.” Her sense of self had been broken by the second firing, but despite what everyone thought of her, at heart, she liked to color inside the lines.
“You’re right, most people settle for one. What did your parents say?”
“I’m ignoring their texts and calls.” They would be outwardly sympathetic, but their horror would be palpable under the surface. Maggie couldn’t face it, not until she wasn’t feeling so shattered.
“I bet the podcasts and the morning shows are hollering at you again.”
Oh yes. “ Hear Her called.”
“Oh my God.”
“They wanted Cole and me to come on together.” She hadn’t told him because he would be all for it. He was desperate to fight someone on her behalf, but she had to take care of him, to make sure that he got what he wanted, even if she couldn’t.
“You should do it,” Savannah said.
“You have to understand, I worked with Cole. It’s a major violation for us to be involved even if nothing happened on set. This position is so new, and there are still people in the industry who doubt that intimacy coordinators are necessary. We have to walk on eggshells and be total professionals to legitimize the field. What happened isn’t just about me but also about the value of what I do. Or did, anyway. Being an IC hangs on ... vibes and your reputation, and I seriously damaged mine.”
Linda on the phone and Bernard in her email had made it sound as if Maggie’s relationship with Cole was the worst thing anyone in Hollywood had ever done or could ever do. That was exactly why she’d resisted getting involved with Cole in the first place.
“I love you, Maggie, but you didn’t cross any lines,” Savannah said. “You weren’t his boss, you didn’t have any power over him. And vice versa. You’re two adults who met at work, and then, when that job was over, started dating.”
“But this job means holding yourself to a higher standard. How could someone else trust me again?”
“I’d think they’d have more reason to trust you because you and Cole specifically chose not to start a relationship until after Waverley was done filming. You treated yourselves, your coworkers, and your workplace with respect. That shows judgment.”
Was that good sense, or was it rationalization? Maggie was so mixed up, she didn’t know. “I want to believe you, but that’s also the way of seeing it that lets me off the hook. I mean, I blew up my life for a second time in as many years because I couldn’t resist a man . Granted, Cole is a very kind, very funny, very hot man, but I literally threw it all away for love. I’m a pop song! A clichéd pop song! I just ... Does that sound like something a serious person does?”
“It sounds like something a happy person does.”
Happy. Now there was a concept Maggie tended not to honor.
The old version of her life, the one where she worked twelve-hour days for ten months a year—had it made her happy? Maybe. Sometimes. But a lot of teaching had been a grueling routine, with fleeting moments of sheer joy mixed in.
The life she’d been trying to build in Hollywood, had it been better? Yes, but there was no way to go back to that. The news of Maggie and Cole’s relationship had broken something that couldn’t be mended.
“Is it enough, to be happy?” Because being with Cole, it probably meant rebuilding her life all over again another time in some other industry. Maggie could have him, but she couldn’t have him and have that job.
“Yes.” Savannah at least had no doubts.
That made one of them.
So what then? Oh God, she was really contemplating this? Even with none of the practical questions answered? “What about my 401(k)?”
“You work at Starbucks, and you love that man, and you thrive. Seriously, Mags, I thought you were smarter than this.”
That didn’t sound all bad. Except: “But I want my life to matter.”
“Stop this. It’s like your mom’s voice is coming out of your mouth, and it’s freaking me out. Your life does matter! It clearly matters to you and to him. What are you, greedy?”
“No. But I might be a little bit ... proud.” A lot bit proud.
“Ah, well, if Mr. Darcy can get over that, you can do it too.”
“There you go, making sense.”
Savannah smiled smugly and tipped her face back into the sun. “So tell me more about this man you can’t resist. How jealous am I going to be when I meet him? Because even if you’re denying me Tasha Russell, I am meeting him, right? I’m only here until tomorrow night.”
“Cole should be home in the next few hours. And you’re going to be ... incredibly jealous.”
The thing was, Maggie didn’t doubt Cole’s worth for an instant, just as she didn’t doubt her feelings for him.
So what exactly was the problem?