Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
S ybil
Gloria Ricci storms into the crew headquarters like a cyclone. Her black hair is in rollers and her eyes are sharp with anger. She looks around with utter determination, and when her gaze locks on mine, my stomach drops.
“You. You’re Sybil, right?” she hisses in her thick Italian accent.
What has Benton done now?
“Yes, I’m Sybil. How can I help you?”
“You’re producing Benton, right?”
“That I am.”
Her face rushes with red. “Tell him he can’t break up with me on national television.”
Umm, what?
Behind her, Perry slashes his neck with his hand. If shit is about to hit the fan with Benton and Gloria’s relationship, it needs to happen on camera and not down here.
My eyes widen. Easy for him to call. Perry’s not the one with a hot-headed Italian supermodel in his face.
“I will talk to him,” I say with a friendly smile. “But Gloria, he really likes you.”
I mean, that’s true to a degree.
Benton does like her.
He also doesn’t want her to be his girlfriend.
I thought she knew that, considering she was also flirting with Justin until a few days ago.
It sounds like Gloria and Benton have different interpretations of what’s going on between them, and I’m pretty sure if things go down the way I think they’re about to go down, Benton is going to further his playboy reputation, and that might not be good.
I promised I wasn’t going to let him walk out of this show with America angry at him, but maybe he shouldn’t be sleeping with his costar.
Gloria huffs, anger making way for vulnerability. Again, this is something Perry would love to see on camera, but I’m not completely heartless. This is a tale as old as time: girl likes boy more than boy likes girl.
I pat her on the back. “What happened?”
Perry steps into the conversation. “Let’s go upstairs and set up a confessional in your room. You can tell us all about it.”
Gloria shoots him a hateful glare. “You would love that, wouldn’t you?”
I mean, that is his job.
Perry gives her a sympathetic smile. “It’s not what you think. This is about a narrative. If we don’t talk about how you feel and what’s going on with your relationship, then the editors will only be able to cut what’s on film. The narrative might not go the way you want it to go.”
She glares. “Are you threatening me?”
He shakes his head, the picture of professional charm. “Of course not. I want to help you. You’re my girl.” He lowers his voice. “Between you and me, I want you to get the better edit if it comes down to Team Gloria versus Team Benton.”
My mouth pops open. What the hell?
Benton is going to kill me if that happens.
Gloria nods, and the two of them head out the door. I move to follow, but Perry stops me. “Go handle Benton,” he whispers.
Does that mean he wants me to make Benton look like an asshole for ratings, or does that mean he wants Benton to pretend to date Gloria seriously?
As much as I want our show to succeed, I care about my friend.
As Gloria and Perry leave, Perry motions Cooper to join them. I have to admit I hate the damsel in distress doe-eyes Gloria flashes at Cooper. I’m sure he’s attracted to her, same as any hot-blooded straight male.
I head out to find Benton, debating what to say to him, and sending him a quick text to ask where he’s at and if we can talk privately.
Benton: I’m training. Talk later.
Whelp, I won’t be hearing from him for hours.
Sybil: Call me before you leave?
He adds a thumbs up to the text, and I wait for the elevator to take me downstairs. I need to get to the office.
My new assistant, Jarod, started yesterday. I’m having him take care of menial admin tasks, but I should check in and see how well he’s fairing. Plus, I need to take care of some phone calls with a few vendors.
My phone buzzes, and I almost expect it to be a text from Cooper or Perry, or maybe even another one from Benton, but it’s from Mom.
Mom: Call me as soon as you get this. It’s important.
My stomach flips, and I immediately press the call button.
“Sybil,” Mom answers, her voice strained and far away. I can hear the faint crashing of waves in the background of our Nantucket beachfront home.
“Hey, Mom. What’s going on?”
The pause is long, the kind of long that makes my heart hammer uncontrollably.
The elevator arrives, but I ignore it. It opens and shuts without me.
When Mom speaks again, her voice is husky with grief. “Are you sitting down? Are you alone?”
“I’m on set right now.”
“Okay, honey, find somewhere private.”
“One second.” My legs move before my mind can even think.
Returning to crew basecamp, I head to the spare bedroom that’s been set aside for makeup and hair, but people are in there. The second spare bedroom is the screening room, so it’s guaranteed to be busy. Without hesitation, I stride across the living room for Cooper’s bedroom door.
He normally keeps it locked, but thankfully it opens. I stumble inside and close myself in. My legs shake, and I have to lean against the door. Maybe this is PTSD kicking in or something else, but my body feels like it has a mind of its own.
“Okay, you can tell me now. What’s wrong?”
“It’s about Dad.” Mom chokes on a sob, and a million emotions burst to the surface, including delusions that he somehow survived the boating accident. It’s my secret hope that I know will never come true.
“Honey, they found some of his remains. His skull washed up near Great Point Beach. The authorities ran forensics and were able to match Dad’s dental records. It’s him.”
My legs give out as I sink to the ground.
We found him.
We can finally lay him to rest—or at least, part of him. This is that final confirmation he’s really gone, and my heart cracks all over again. My body battles between relief and heartbreak, neither winning nor surrendering to the other.
I know I wasn’t the only one. Chandler has said multiple times he thought Dad had amnesia and would return to us. Mom sometimes tells me how she can’t believe he’s gone. And Hayes hasn’t been the same since it happened.
None of us have.
“How are the boys taking it?” I ask. “Have you told them already?”
“I wanted to have you come out so we could tell them together, but they saw me crying and got it out of me. They’re… not well.”
“I’m supposed to fly out next week,” I say. “I’ll come early.”
“That’s up to you. Nobody will judge you either way. You have a lot on your plate.”
“I need a break. I have an assistant now. It will be okay. I’ll come out tomorrow, okay Mom? First thing.”
“I’ll have your bedroom ready, sweetheart.”
I pause for a minute. “Are we going to bury the remains?”
“Of course. We’ll do it soon. I can’t think about that right now, though.”
We hang up, and I stay on the floor for ages, eventually finding my way onto Cooper’s bed. The blue comforter is cooling, and I find myself crying into it while I stare out the window, the cityscape outside blurring.
It feels like he died twice. I’m sure Mom will want to lay what we have of him to rest in the family plot. That will be hard. This is all so hard.
Eventually, I fall asleep, dreaming of his funeral last summer. I wake up sometime later, and the sky outside has turned to ink. For a brief second, I don’t know where I am.
Panicked, I sit up, searching for my phone.
“Hey,” Cooper’s calm voice breaks the darkness. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
The memories of the day rush back. I have no tears left to give. I’m completely drained. Before that phone call, I was worried about Gloria and Benton having drama on the show—that feels so trivial now.
“Do you have my phone?” I croak.
Cooper reaches through the darkness, handing it over. “Lie down.”
My body instantly obeys. Cooper joins me, pulling me against him while I open my phone.
Benton called me hours ago, but I slept right through it. I hope he didn’t walk into drama.
“Sorry I broke into your bedroom,” I mumble. “It was unlocked.”
“I talked to Ethan,” he says, his breath warm on my neck. “Your mom called Arden to tell her about your dad.”
My chest tightens. “So you know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“That’s fine.” He shifts slightly, but his hold stays strong and firm. “Do you want to go home?”
I don’t want to do that either. “Can I sleep here tonight? I don’t want to move.”
“Of course. I can sleep on the couch or go up to Ethan’s place and sleep in one of their guest rooms.”
I shake my head. “Stay here. It’s nice… not being alone.”
We lie in silence for a while, and I focus on the way his breathing settles my nerves, the consistent rise and fall of his chest against my back like ocean waves.
“I’m going to Nantucket early,” I tell him. “Tomorrow. I’ll be ready to work on the show again when you guys come out next week.”
Cooper mumbles his approval and continues to hold me until my emotions settle.
He kisses the back of my neck, laying a careful press of his lips on the nob at the top of my spine.
It’s possibly the most comforting gesture I’ve ever felt, and it’s the last thing I think about as I finally drift away.
The next morning, I wake up, and he’s gone—another thing to widen the chasm in my chest. It’s not like we had sex, but somehow sleeping in the same bed felt more intimate than most of the sex I’ve had. I don’t think I can take any more heartache, so I refuse to let myself be bothered.
I pad to the open living and dining room, and the scent of bacon stops me.
“You’re cooking?” I practically squawk.
“Don’t look so alarmed.” He peers at me with an adorable grin. “I can cook, especially breakfast.”
Then he winks, and I melt.
“Oh, that makes sense. Gotta feed the women,” I joke, though it’s hard to feel happy when I’m so damn spent from crying all night. I’m not bothered by him feeding women, but it stings a little to know I’m one of many, and we didn’t even have sex. “What else is on the menu?”
“Protein pancakes sound okay?”
“No carbs for me. I don’t feel like eating much, if I’m being honest.”
“Eggs? Bacon?”
“Sure, but only if I can make the eggs.” I’m picky as hell about my eggs, and I really need something to do.
I dig through the refrigerator, past the random items left by the crew, locating the carton of eggs. Then I get busy scrambling them so they’re perfectly fluffy.
We sit together to eat when the first of the crew arrives, and if anyone notices I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes, they don’t say a word. Not that I’d care. I was here last night because my world fell apart, not because I was having sex with Cooper.
I wish I had been having sex with Cooper.
My hand stops, and the eggs tumble to the plate. Where the hell did that thought come from?
Coop gives me a sideline glance. “You okay there, Valentine?”
Flustered, I set my fork down. I can’t handle all these emotions anymore. I need to get the fuck out of here. “Sorry, but I gotta get going. I’ll see you on Nantucket.”
Without looking at anybody, I gather my things and hurry from the apartment before anyone can question me about my choices.