Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
“C ome on, Ainsley, focus.”
“Sorry.” She closed her eyes, tried to get into the zone. To be Karen Walters, small-town bookstore owner, part-time amateur detective. Breathe in, breathe out. Action . She opened her eyes. Looked at Jason. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” She glanced around the set, then looked back at Jason. “Did you check inside the kitchen?”
His eyes widened so much she could almost see a lightbulb blink over his head. “Of course!”
“And cut.” Gwen Stevenson, the director for A Christmas Splash (as their first Christmas mystery TV movie had been officially retitled), moved to check the footage. Nodded. “Much better, Ainsley. Okay, we need to set up the kitchen, so you’ve got ten minutes, people. Ten.”
Ainsley nodded. A ten-minute break for a snack, bathroom, and chance to go over her lines sounded perfect. Gwen was a stickler for scheduling and staying on budget, and this week of interiors would be followed by a trip next week to Thetis Island, where they were booked to do five days of exteriors, making the most of the milder weather before the forecast rain event was due.
So much of shooting shows like this had to be worked around the weather, especially when a show was dependent on working the exteriors and capitalizing on a location. That was one of the good things about filming at the Three Creek Ranch western movie town set, in that many of the buildings’ interiors held just as much atmosphere as their external appearance. That was likely because they were original buildings, or so Cassie had explained. An old town that had its last inhabitants move away a hundred years ago, until the ghosts had been swallowed up in the expansion of the James’s ranch. It was perfect for As The Heart Draws, and so many other historic TV and film productions.
She moved to the food table and selected a rice cracker. Mm, yum. Not really, but it would give some energy.
“Hey Ainsley, you got a minute?”
She pivoted to face Jason. “Sure.”
“Want a bite?” He offered her his chocolate muffin.
“Um. Thanks, but no thanks.” There were way too many calories in that. Now if it was that delicious salad that Zac had eaten last night and Zac was the one offering to share, then she might be persuaded. Not that she was thinking about last night. Or should ever think about eating with Zac again. He must think she was a nutcase, with all that she’d spilled last night, truth alongside tears. Had the restaurant laced her tea with truth serum?
“Okay.” He crammed the rest in his mouth like a child. Classy. “So, uh, is everything okay?”
“Yep. Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem a little standoffish today. Did Parotti keep you up too late last night, huh?”
Yes, but not in the way he meant. “I had a late night, but we were talking, nothing more.” Well, apart from spilling her guts, that is, in an unexpected tsunami of honesty, where she’d ridden the waves of emotion until she’d crashed into the reality that she’d just made this fake relationship feel a lot more real.
And the fact Zac had been so kind to her, so understanding, made her heart sore. He was a good guy. This fake relationship felt so one-sided. She owed him big-time. Even if part of her felt so embarrassed she never wanted to see him again.
“Talking, huh?” He winked.
“When I say talking, I mean talking, like what you and I are doing now. It’s not code for something else.”
“If you say so.”
She fake-smiled. “Was that all? If so, you’ll need to excuse me. I need the bathroom.”
She moved away, not wanting to rush and give the impression she was avoiding him, even though it was partly true. And when she closed the door, thankful the stalls were empty, she gripped the edge of the porcelain sink, and stared at herself in the mirror.
Her makeup—natural today, but still heavy enough to last under studio lights—was a world away from last night’s dramatic look. And a world away from the mess she’d encountered after she’d overshared then cried and rushed to the restaurant’s bathroom and flicked on the lights, only to be horrified at her smeared makeup. Trudi had clearly overestimated the promise of a mascara that proclaimed itself as waterproof.
Yet Zac hadn’t said a thing. In fact, he hadn’t seemed to notice. Which just made him all the more special. Even if she still despised herself for being so weak as to crack open her heart in all its vulnerabilities—well, some of the big chunks, anyway—to a near stranger. Zac was pretty much a stranger she’d just been way too honest with. Ugh. How could she have done that? And while she had sensed he was safe, who really knew with a man? She’d come across too many guys who had said one thing, then done another.
But she hadn’t come across too many men who had prayed for her. Her dad, her pastor, Lincoln, that was about all. And she’d known all of them for years, not mere weeks. And ugh—how could she have told him that she wanted a husband? One who could “husband her” no less? How fifteenth-century had that comment made her appear? Oh, he must think her fully weird.
Which might actually be a good thing, so he wouldn’t take the husband comment the wrong way, and start thinking that she wanted him to take that role one day. Although it would be good to have a guy who could so openly pray for her, as he’d done. That was exactly the kind of husbanding she’d meant. Not that she’d ever tell him that. Not that she for one second wanted him to feel obliged to her in any other way. Not when it was probably easiest to call this whole thing off and just fly solo, for a change.
But if she did that, wouldn’t she just be reinforcing that she couldn’t hold a man? That Ainsley Beckett was a man-eater and she’d just chewed up and spat out another guy. A good guy. One the whole country adored. Her reputation would be shot to smithereens if she dumped him. Anyone who hurt the man would be crucified.
So as embarrassed as she felt, she couldn’t renege on their agreement and dump him now. Especially when he really did seem to be a good guy—and not just in hockey prowess—and had proved it in that moment when he’d prayed for her. Prayed for her. Aloud.
The fact he prayed for her suggested that maybe there were still some good guys out there in the world, who weren’t so insecure to be seen with her, who weren’t embarrassed to pray. Who actually, genuinely, cared. Like he did, when he’d messaged her this morning to check if she was okay.
“Lord, bless him,” she murmured. Wherever he was today. That’s right, it was game day. She planned to watch him—on TV—later tonight. And while part of her might want to watch him in person at the arena, another part knew that wasn’t wise. Even though it was still early days she could feel this relationship was far less easily defined than she had first imagined.
A knock came at the door, which then opened. She straightened, faked a smile for Crystal, one of the production assistants. “Ainsley? They’re waiting for you.”
“Sorry. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Crystal nodded, then closed the door.
Ainsley drew in a deep breath, then released it. Dabbed water under her eyes to wake herself up. Makeup could fix that later. She straightened, nodded at herself in the mirror. “You can do this.”
Zac was a good guy, but keeping apart and building back some walls was probably how things should be between them. It was probably just as well she didn’t have any other events coming up on the calendar, save for a Christmas party for the As The Heart Draws Christmas special, which was good as she needed time to let her heart build up a little more distance before she could act naturally around Zac again. Jason might think that she was being standoffish, but she had no idea how she should act around Zac.
Another knock. Crystal. “Ainsley?”
“I’m coming,” she called.
She really needed to act like she had it together.
But that was the thing. She could act, could rise above the insecurities that exposing her vulnerability had revealed last night. And maybe that made her more of a fake, but as Zac had pointed out, she couldn’t be too real. Not when her decisions affected others.
She closed her eyes. How could she have dared say that thing about wanting to leave As The Heart Draws ? Cassie would never forgive her.
It was like the questions Zac had asked had held a mirror up to her soul, and she could finally recognize that some things in her life weren’t tracking the way she wanted.
“God, I need You to direct my paths.”
In everything. Her work. Her career. Her love life.
She jerked her attention back to the mirror, saw her eyes wide with shock.
No. Well, yes, she wanted God to direct her love life. But right now she was managing just fine. Faking things with Zac would do just nicely. Even if things had gotten a little too real last night.
She drew herself up then headed to the door. She’d just make sure that never happened again.
* * *
“Good game!”
He leaned in and touched helmets with Chris. “Good game.”
“Hatty, baby.”
Zac smiled, and skated off the ice. Seattle sure hadn’t been cracking tonight. He lifted a stick to the crowd, then skated off the ice, unsurprised when he was asked to stay on the sidelines, alongside Chris. And sure enough, the shutout earned Chris the second star, while Zac’s three goals scored the first. The lights strobed, the music blared, he saluted the crowd, then found the sick kid he’d asked the team to find, and carefully passed over his stick to the beaming child.
“Thanks Zac!” The kid beamed.
He grinned and settled for a salute, as he couldn’t hear much over the arena’s noise. This barn was one of the better ones to play in, and playoff hockey here was the best. He still remembered the noise when Canada won gold at the Olympics—the noise then had been next-level.
A few minutes later he’d stripped off his gear and was readying for postgame interviews. Seattle might be one of the newer clubs in the expansion league, but the expansion meant they’d had their pick of players from different clubs, and they’d done pretty well over the years. Of course, Seattle were helped by having players like Kyle Tinker, an Art Ross winner from a few years ago, who was never shy about offering a gritty game. The fact Seattle were only an hour’s flight away meant they played Vancouver often, and the media from each respective team were usually out in force.
“Hey Zac, they’re ready for you.”
He drew down his snapback and joined Chris and Coach in the media room, took his place at the table and drank his water. He’d be craving some carbs soon, but hopefully this wouldn’t take too long and he could get home. And maybe see if Ainsley was up and had watched the game. And maybe message her again, and check if she was still doing okay. He hoped she hadn’t been faking when she’d thanked him and said she was fine. And maybe it was overstepping the fake relationship boundaries by checking in on her, like he would for a real girlfriend, but he’d felt a prompting to, because he didn’t know how not to care. It would be easier all round if he just called.
He yanked back his smile, forced himself to squint out at the glaring lights. To focus, to hear, to answer questions like he’d done a hundred times before. Until one question shot his way, that he’d never heard before.
“So Zac, three goals tonight, your first hatty for the season, were you playing with such intensity for anyone special tonight?”
It took him two seconds to realize what was really being said. Another three to formulate a reply. Then he realized delaying this long made it look a lot more weighty than it actually was, when the answer was a simple “No.”
“Are you sure? It seems like you had to think about that for a moment.”
“I did. Because I didn’t understand why you might think I would be motivated because of anything in particular. I like to think that I play with a similar level of intensity every time I’m on the ice, and I kind of resent the implications of your question.”
“And that’s a wrap,” the media staffer said, moving in front of the table. “It’s late, the boys have a flight to Winnipeg tomorrow, they need their rest. I’m sure we’ll see some of you on our road trip.”
“Dude.” Chris said as soon as they were out of earshot. “Not the way to play it cool.”
“I knew it was a mistake,” he muttered.
“You’re gonna have to figure it out. If you’re faking it, then you might need to sound like you’re in a relationship.”
He reached the locker room, threw his cap into his bag. They’d be packed tonight by the staffers and loaded on the plane for tomorrow’s road trip that would start in Winnipeg. Then they’d scoot to Saint Paul, Minnesota, St. Louis, then take in Dallas and Denver before returning.
Maybe the fakeness of this relationship stuff was a good thing after all. It sure felt too hard when he was travelling like this. By the time he’d return, she’d be away shooting. How was he supposed to see her given his games and her work schedule? They might live two blocks apart but it was almost like a long-distance relationship. So maybe sucking back the emotion stirred up yesterday was wise, and a fake relationship was for the best. Even if yesterday had felt plenty real.
“Hey.” Chris wore a pleat in his forehead. “You okay?”
He exhaled, rubbed a hand over his face. He might’ve scored three goals, but given his lack of sleep last night, they felt all due to God’s grace. “You got a spare minute?”
“For you, always.”
He nodded to Nik and Drew and some of the others still here, found a smile for those teammates with their better halves, and fist-bumped the kids who had stayed up way past normal bedtimes. Diana wasn’t here—she had three hyperactive kids to wrestle to bed—but it hit Zac that he’d really like a girlfriend to be here when he finished his games. Someone to support him. Someone to cheer him on. Someone whose name was Ainsley. Like that could ever happen. Not when she only wants you as a friend. He exhaled heavily.
“Dude, you sound like you’re in labor, not like you scored three goals tonight.”
Zac cut Chris a look.
“Oh, that bad, huh?”
“Not bad. Just…”
“Not good.”
He shrugged, beeped unlocked his Porsche, gestured for Chris to get in. It sure wasn’t the same as when Ainsley had sat there. Had that truly only been last night?
Chris sniffed. “Is that new aftershave, or am I smelling the traces of a certain somebody’s perfume?”
“I honestly don’t know why you’re my friend sometimes.”
“You’re not the first to have said that.”
Zac shook his head.
“So, you had a date yesterday.”
“A fake date.”
“Is it fake if you spend most of the night with her?” Chris mused.
“We didn’t spend the night together,” Zac said quickly.
“Not what I said, but good to know.”
“That’s not something Christians do, is it?”
“Have sex?”
Chris’s question made Zac sound like such a newb. “Obviously they do, because otherwise you wouldn’t be a dad, but I’m guessing not for a while, huh?”
“Yeah, like marriage.” Chris tapped his ring finger. “So you probably can’t be fake-dating if that’s what’s on your mind.”
“It’s not. No, really. I held her hand a couple of times and that’s it.”
“No kissing?”
“Nothing. Not even a hug goodbye.” Though he’d been sorely tempted. Just like he had been tempted to hug her when she’d come back from the washroom after crying half her makeup off. He’d been right about her. Natural Ainsley was just as pretty as the made-up version.
“So why are we even having this sex talk?”
“We’re not.” His neck burned. “I was just asking a question.”
“I get there’s a lot to figuring out how to be a Christian in a relationship. And you’ve just complicated things with the fakeness of it all. Just remember, your goal is to be unselfish, okay? So be her friend. That’s all she said she wants from you, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” That hadn’t changed.
“So that’s all you can give. Friendship. Nothing more.”
Friendship. Like listening to her. Talking to her. Encouraging her. Oh, and, “I prayed for her last night. Aloud, I mean.”
“You did? Awesome.” Chris fist-bumped him, just as if Zac had scored a goal. “Look at you, preacher man. We’ll have you delivering a sermon soon.”
“Yeah, right.” His dad would flip his lid. He didn’t even know Zac had prayed the “sinner’s prayer”. That was a conversation to have one day. Like maybe in several years.
But Chris’s tease tugged another memory from last night’s intense conversation. Something Ainsley had said about finding a man who was strong in God, who could help husband her.
“What do you think it means to be a good husband?” he asked.
Chris coughed. “Whoa. One minute we’re talking fake-dating, the next we’re talking marriage?”
“No. Well, not really. Not for me. Not yet anyway.”
“Hey, if you’re following Jesus and you want to do the deed, if you know what I mean, then you’ll need one of these.” He tapped his wedding ring again.
“Good to know. Thanks.”
Chris chuckled. “I sometimes can’t believe that I’m the one who gets to be giving the great Zac Parotti relationship advice.”
“The feeling’s mutual, man.”
Chris laughed, the boom of sound filling the car. “So, a good husband? That’s what you want to be?”
“One day. Someone who a woman like Ainsley might see as a candidate.”
“Wow, this fake-dating thing really isn’t working for you, is it?”
Nope. He kept his answer locked behind his lips.
“Okay then.” Chris whistled. “Obviously, I can’t speak for what Ainsley in particular might like. But from my many years of married bliss, and from what the other guys have said over the years, a woman wants a man she can trust. One who does what he says. Who loves her unselfishly, and helps her become her best. That’s what Diana has said, among many other things. And I mean many other things.” Chris sighed.
Zac was sorely tempted to ask if things were okay domestically, or if Chris’s announcement of domestic bliss was an exaggeration. Still, none of his business. And selfish as it may be, he wanted Chris to stay on track.
“Ainsley might like romance,” Chris glanced at him, “and just an observation here, but judging from the many different roles she’s been in, the woman seems to love romance.”
Zac’s lips rolled in. He wasn’t going to share what Ainsley had told him about her roles. He would keep her secrets. Prove himself trustworthy.
“But she needs to learn that there’s a difference between romance and real love. Like, real love isn’t always pretty. Real love can be hard work. You know, the one you probably should be talking to about all of this is Diana. She loves better than pretty much anyone else I’ve ever met.”
She did. Over the past year he’d come to really appreciate her big heart for others, her uncomplaining spirit and patience. She cared for her family, and for strays like him. She even did volunteer work in the community. “Diana is a good woman.”
“She’s got to be to put up with me,” Chris said wryly.
“True, that.”
Chris shoved him. “And if you do talk to her, then I think you should also brace yourself for something else I can pretty much guarantee Diana will say.”
“What’s that?”
Chris faced him. “You need to be Ainsley’s best friend.”
He heaved out a breath. He’d been afraid of that.