CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Ethan
I drag my sorry ass onto set, my usual swagger replaced by a defeated shuffle. One glance at my reflection in a nearby trailer window confirms it—I look like shit. A sleepless night has a way of doing that, especially when it’s filled with replays of fights and what-ifs.
The familiar buzz of the movie set hits me like a hangover, all noise and chaos. Marco Island’s quaint downtown park has been swallowed whole by the beast of Hollywood. Where’s the cozy little gazebo? The peaceful walking paths? Gone. My two worlds have collided in a mess of wires, spotlights, and fake snow.
My kingdom, they say. Yeah, right. Some king I am. Today, this crown feels more like an anchor, dragging me down with the weight of a million expectations.
Crew members chirp out happy hellos as I pass. I paste on a smile and wave back, hoping no one can tell how close I am to losing it. I navigate through a sea of white chairs prepared for tonight’s crowd, all facing a stage resembling a winter wonderland.
Then I see her.
Chase is a beacon of control in the chaos, dressed in all black, clipboard at the ready, headset firmly in place. Her presence pulls at me like a tractor beam.
“Hey, Picasso with the glue gun! Yeah, you. The snowflakes go on the left side of the arch. Camera left, not your left. Fix it.”
Her voice slices through the noise, sharp and commanding. She’s in full director mode, barking orders like a five-star general, and damn if it doesn’t get my heart pumping.
I can’t tear my eyes away, even as yesterday’s fight gnaws at my guts. Yes, she shut me down and labeled me a “problem”—but that just makes me want to seize her gently, look her in the eye, and demand she admit that this is not an act between us.
This is real.
We’re real.
Or we could be if she’d let us.
“I need the crane set up here behind the audience. That way we’ll get the full panorama in the wide shot,” she yells.
God, why is she so sexy when she’s in command? I want to kiss that stern look right off her face. Pretend that icy conversation yesterday never happened.
But there’s no more avoiding it. Time for an Emmy-worthy performance of “Everything’s Just Dandy in Ethan-land.”
“Morning, sweetheart,” I say, the endearment slipping out before I can stop it. “I guess Santa’s elves have been getting a real workout with the boss lady.”
Chase’s eyes meet mine with a hint of yearning, but they swiftly change to a more detached demeanor. “You’re late.”
I hold up the script. “Blame this masterpiece of yours. I was up all night decoding it. I have notes.”
“Ethan, I don’t have time for this. You agreed to say the words as written.”
“That was before I saw the crazy shit you wrote into it. A fake engagement? Seriously? What’s next, a sham pregnancy? Alien abduction?”
“Keep your voice down,” she snaps, her eyes darting around nervously.
“It’s all just a game to you. Another scene to direct. But this isn’t a movie, Chase—this is my life we’re talking about.”
Her assistant Taylor appears as if summoned, tablet in hand and looking frazzled. “Chase, Frank is looking for you.”
“Who?”
“The drone guy. Something about the opening shot.” She spots me and her professional smile kicks in. “Oh! Ethan. Hair and makeup want you in twenty.”
“Sure thing, Taylor. Nice to see you got sucked into this mess. What do you think of Florida?”
“It’s like breathing soup,” she says flatly.
Chase starts to leave. “Tell Frank I’ll be right there.”
“Whoa, hold up,” I say, catching her elbow. “We need to talk about this scene.”
“Let go,” she snaps, wrenching her arm free with a sharp twist and taking a step back. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. I have an entire production to manage. You are not the only person who matters here.”
“Yes, you’ve made it very clear how low I am on your priority list,” I say with unmistakable hurt. “But we’re going to discuss this script and—”
Out of nowhere, Chase’s arms are around my neck and she’s kissing me. My thoughts explode like fireworks. Instinct kicks in, and I’m bringing her to me, deepening the kiss. It’s everything I’ve been craving, everything I was terrified I’d never have again.
She breaks away, breathless, and for a second I think maybe, just maybe—
“Don’t look now,” she whispers urgently, “but Gail’s filming us.”
Clarity smacks me in the face when I hear Gail’s shrill voice. “Your fans deserve better than this, Ethan. You can’t hide the truth. Chase, I will not rest until they fire you!”
Protective anger surges. I yell to a nearby security guard, “Get that woman off this set, NOW!”
I grab Chase’s hand, her fingers trembling in mine, and lead her toward my trailer. I fling the door open and guide her in, kicking it firmly shut.
The sudden silence engulfs us. I turn to face her, my heart racing and lips still tingling. For a moment, hope flutters in my chest. But the guarded look in her eyes kills it.
“You alright?”
Chase nods, finally peering back at me. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Sorry about the kiss. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“Emergency makeouts are my specialty. It’s written in my contract.”
She doesn’t laugh. Instead, her face goes serious. “We can’t have any more bad press, Ethan. We only have 800k subscribers. Both our jobs are on the line.”
“But a fake engagement? That’s your big idea?” The words come out harsh. “You want me to pop the question on live TV?”
“I’m giving the fans what they want. The love story ends happily ever after.”
I scoff. “How will more lies fix this?”
“Until we hit a million, we keep up the act. And you can stop judging me. I’m not the only one being dishonest.” she fires back. “You brought your parents into this. I told you to be honest from the start.”
Well, crap. She’s right.
I misled my family… at first. But my feelings for her? That part isn’t a lie, not anymore.
“You said not to ruin anyone’s Christmas,” she continues. “I’m making sure that doesn’t happen. We’ll have a whirlwind engagement, followed by a very public breakup in L.A., and then you can return to your revolving door of starlets.”
I wince. “Damn, Chase. Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”
Beneath the sarcasm, I’m fucking shattered. Does she honestly believe I’m still that guy—Hollywood’s favorite playboy? A man incapable of depth or commitment? Can’t she see how she’s reshaped my world—redefined my priorities? Because of her, I’ve caught a glimpse of a future that I want more than anything.
“Ethan, please,” she says, her shaky tone threatening to break me. “Do your job and let me do mine. This is hard enough.”
I take a step toward her, my heart pounding against my ribcage. “This might have started as a lie, but it’s become the most real thing in my life. I’m asking you—no, begging you—don’t shut down the possibility of ‘us’ before we even see where it could go.”
I catch the glimmer of tears forming. I reach out, desperate to pull her close, to make her understand. But she steps back, putting miles between us with that single movement.
“Weren’t you listening? I’ve already written our ending. Fake engagement. Public breakup. The end.”
She disappears into the tiny bathroom, the door clicking shut with a finality that makes my stomach drop. The flimsy barrier might as well be made of tissue paper for all the privacy it offers. I hear her muffled sniffles, each one ripping out a piece of my heart.
“Ethan, you need to leave. You’re late for wardrobe.” Her voice comes out strained and raw.
I rake my fingers through my hair, pacing the trailer like a ticking time bomb. This is fucking insane. All of it. From the charade we’re putting on, to the genuine emotions I can’t shake, right down to this ridiculous on-camera proposal.
And yet…
I pick up the script, flipping the pages. Chase’s handwriting is all over it, neat little notes in the margins. Always the perfectionist, even when she’s crafting the most complicated lie.
She’s not wrong—it’s a happily-ever-after ending for everyone… except us.
And it will destroy both our careers if we mess it up.
What’s the use? She’s made her choice, and no impassioned plea will change her mind now. She’ll stick to her script no matter how I feel.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn away without another word. My feet carry me to the exit, each step feeling like I’m sinking into concrete. I’m not just leaving the trailer but also the foolish hope I’d been clinging to.
***
“Action!” Chase’s voice cuts through the air.
Game face: Activated. Charm: Turned up to full blast.
I’m waiting on stage when the camera’s light goes red. “Hey, beautiful people. Ethan Barrett here, your friendly neighborhood King of Christmas. Wait till you hear what I’ve got planned.”
Dancers spin around me in their Santa outfits, a holiday tornado of red and white.
“I’m personally inviting you to the huge livestream event before the premiere of my new movie, Fa La La Love .”
On cue, fake snow starts to fall. It catches in my eyelashes, but I don’t miss a beat.
“Trust me, you won’t want to miss this live event—musical performances, behind-the-scenes sneak peeks, and… a big moment for me. I’m going to ask the love of my life, Chase Pemberton, a very special question. And hopefully, she’ll make my Christmas wish come true.” I toss in a wink, pushing aside the tightness in my chest at those words.
Staring into the camera, I carefully avoid Chase’s gaze. I’m a consummate professional—an actor who can summon the emotions demanded by the scene while ruthlessly suppressing my own. No doubt my future therapist will sail off on a yacht named after me from this soul-crushing experience.
“Be sure to subscribe, because it’s all happening tonight, only on the Cherish Channel.” I hit my ending pose, and the dancers surround me with jazz hands.
“Cut!” Chase yells. “Moving on!”
I stride over to her, eager to see if she liked my take. I still crave her approval. God, I’m a sucker. Our eyes lock briefly before she turns, addressing Taylor, her ever-efficient right hand.
“Please tell Ethan that he’s on break but needs to stand by,” Chase says, face buried in her clipboard.
Taylor acknowledges me with an expression of I’m so sorry and please don’t make this difficult .
I smirk and say, “Please inform Director Pemberton that I’ll be a good little boy. No wandering off set, no sneaking cookies from craft services, and there will be no thinking on my part whatsoever. I’ll perform the script exactly as written.”
That earns me an eye roll from Chase. I’ll take it.
As I’m exiting the stage, a flustered guy intercepts me. “Hey, I’m Mike, the prop master,” he says, all business. “Quick question: Does your wardrobe tonight have pockets?”
“Yeah, we can both be glad they vetoed the sexy Santa Speedo idea.” My attempt at humor falls flat, as Mike doesn’t even crack a smile.
He holds out a small ring box. “Think this’ll fit in your pocket? Or should I hunt down a smaller box?”
Mike hands it to me, and the ring inside is… one-of-a-kind. The garish design seems to be inspired by a disco ball, featuring an uneven hodgepodge of rejected gemstones.
When I hold it up to the light, the jewels sparkle so intensely that it’s almost blinding. It’s not Chase’s style, not that it matters. If I were to choose, I would go with something understated yet elegant—a solitaire in white gold with clean lines. Classic, strong, and timeless. Just like her.
The thought catches me off guard, and I almost drop the gaudy rock.
Why am I acting like this is an actual proposal?
Whatever sparks we had are now tightly sealed off.
“Any chance you could hold on to that until after this number?” Mike asks, already retreating. “I have to drag that 500-pound sleigh onto the stage.”
“Sure, man,” I respond, but he’s already gone.
I slide into one of the audience chairs, my gaze locked on the engagement ring as if it’s the key to everything. “This day cannot be over soon enough,” I say, snapping the box shut.
I’m startled by my dad’s voice, who pats me on the back and plops down next to me. “Would you look at this? You Hollywood people sure go all out, don’tcha son?”
“Hey Dad, what—”
Chase’s deafening voice from her megaphone interrupts. “Let’s run the ‘Santa Baby’ dance number from the top! And Santa, either nail your blocking this time, or you’re fired. No more mistakes, understood?”
“Wow,” Dad says, eyebrows raised. “She’s a fierce little thing, ain’t she?”
Fierce doesn’t even scratch the surface. That woman is a force of nature, a whirlwind of creativity and passion. And me? I’m the guy who got swept up in her storm, spinning out of control, not able to—hell, not wanting to—break free.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“At the store. She’s barely keeping up with all your fans,” Dad replies. “Your event’s bringing in lots of new folks with money to burn.”
I should step up and offer to help, but the idea of facing a crowd of zealous fans, all expecting to see the happy couple… Yeah, that’s more than I can handle right now.
Dad must sense my hesitation because he adds, “Nolan’s there. Your mama’s fine. She sent me down here to check on you.” He pauses, and I feel him studying my face. “She’s got it in her head that you’re gonna propose to Chase tonight.”
The velvet case suddenly feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I pull it out, holding it up like some kind of evidence. “So I’m told.”
Dad opens the box and studies the tacky diamond. His expression says it all. “Hmmm,” he muses. “That’s something… not something Chase would like.”
“That’s what I said…” Oh shit! I said that out loud. “I mean, when I bought it. Um, that is to say, when she picked it out… We agreed that—”
“Son,” Dad says gently, cutting me off and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Now’s as good a time as any to stop with the lies.”
“You know? When did you find out?”
“Pretty much the second you said you were bringing Chase home for Christmas.”
“So why did you let us pretend?”
“You’re a grown man, Ethan. I assumed you had your reasons.”
A laugh escapes me, hollow and brittle. “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, Dad.”
“Kid, that’s the way love goes.”
Unbelievable… My dad casually drops the L-bomb like it’s no big deal. Love. Here I am, caught up in this cyclone of emotions, trying to understand all my twisted-up feelings, and my father nails it with one word.
“I let her down.”
“I’m sure you did,” Dad says plainly. “And you will again, and then you’ll figure it out. That’s the nature of relationships.”
“But how the hell can Chase trust me when I keep screwing up?” I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “She’s been let down her whole life. She doesn’t trust anyone.”
“You plant your ass down and don’t budge. Every time you take a tumble, you get back up and keep at it. Let her know you’re sticking around, no matter what.”
As his words rattle around in my brain, I fixate on Chase. Goddamn, she’s incredible. The sheer intensity radiating from her, the passionate drive that fuels her every move—it’s like watching lightning strike in slow motion.
And I know, deep in my bones, that this is why I’m so completely, utterly gone for her.
“Son…” Dad’s voice pulls me back. “Ever notice the common theme in all your movies?”
“Let me think—happily ever after?” I say sarcastically.
“In every single one of ’em, the girl gets scared and runs off ‘cause she’s too afraid of getting hurt by love.”
I nod slowly, still unsure where he’s going.
“Since the girl you love is the very same girl who wrote those movies, who do ya think she’s been writing about this whole time?”
My heart jumps. It all clicks into place. All those scripts Chase has written, filled with characters wrestling with love and fear and the terrifying prospect of opening their hearts—they weren’t just stories. They were her, laying her soul bare on the page, grappling with her own fears of falling in love.
I look back at Chase, seeing her with fresh eyes. The way she dives into her work, the defenses she’s built…
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “She’s pushing me away because I’m scaling those walls. She’s freaking out because she’s actually letting me in.”
“I reckon so. But as your mama says, a little shove ain’t the same as getting kicked out the door.”
“I don’t know if I can be the man she deserves,” I admit, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me. “I’ve never been that person before. To any woman.”
Dad squeezes my shoulder. “I get it, son. It’s downright scary. But there’s only two options. Show up trying every day, or walk away… What’s it gonna be?”