Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
T he following day Ainsley squeezed in some shooting around Rosie’s damage control, and alleviating the concerns of her family. That night she called on her best acting skills as she flew to Seattle with Diana and watched Zac annihilate Kyle Tinker and the rest of the Seattle team.
When people at the game looked at her, Ainsley smiled, acting surprised when people offered concern. Some, she guessed, weren’t fooled, but others appeared convinced that she was okay.
And she was okay. Mostly. About that anyway.
Zac’s visit had been exactly what she needed, a God-given few hours of sanity. But as awesome as that was, it only clarified the danger of letting herself fall completely for him. Because as kind as he was, he’d be sure to reject her once he knew the truth about why Baden had done what he did.
It had to have been Baden who’d photoshopped and posted that picture, or one of his cronies at least. It had to be. Nobody else hated her that much. But Rosie’s sources were yet to prove it was him, so she had to keep the game of pretend alive, as if Baden’s actions hadn’t eviscerated her. It was so unfair to have to play pretend while the hurts and frustrations massed within. She cringed when people—men and women—glanced at her chest then up again, nodding like they knew she wasn’t the same. The fakeness didn’t stop their gazes from making her feel sordid, cheap, and tawdry. She wondered if this was how Destiny and the others had felt when they’d first had to dance in high heels and spangles. Like they were being judged and found wanting, hating the show they’d signed up for, the show that must go on.
Some days it felt like her mask was bulging with the pretense, like one wrong word would split it open and send a spray of poison across all those she came across. She craved moments of respite, moments when she could just be normal. Be Ainsley. Whoever she was these days.
Sweet and innocent? No. She hadn’t been that since she was eighteen and Baden had lied then disrespected her, then had his way and spat her out.
Zac’s girlfriend? No. As wonderful as he was to her, this was pretend. He was her friend, someone she’d shared a momentous kiss with, but once was enough. She couldn’t fall again. See? A sweet good-hearted woman wouldn’t manipulate a man, especially a genuinely good guy like Zac. Guilt and shame lay heavy on her heart, forbidding her from talking too long on their phone calls, making her wait too long to reply.
A beloved actress? The questions swirling around her career had tainted her reputation there, too. Rosie and Mal weren’t happy; the Hallmark bosses had called too. Apparently seeing one of their linchpin actresses dressed in not very much at all—fake as that might be—and attending a strip club of all places was off-putting to their family-friendly audience. Who knew?
At least she still had the Christmas mysteries project to concentrate on, something she was diligent to remember her lines for as they completed shooting the final scenes. Next week it would go into postproduction, which would give a little bit more breathing room.
So as soon as that was done, she joined Mack in giving her parents some respite and spent a few days with her aunt on the island. They sat and painted, enjoying the wintry sunshine as it picked out the whitecaps on the sea. Time with her aunt was special, especially knowing this was likely to be one of the last times her aunt felt well enough to paint.
Each moment was filled with poignancy, but each hour held moments of grace. And occasional laughter. Like when Ainsley shared that comment of Zac’s about Luc Blanchard in his tiny green shorts.
“Oh, it’s good to laugh,” Aunty Win said, wiping her eyes. “Thank you for that. I’m sure I’ll now have that visual when I go to sleep.”
That sparked more laughter, and Ainsley’s heart, as rough as the seas around Thetis Island, seemed to find calm thanks to it. Or maybe that was just the joy of being away.
For when she returned to her apartment, it was back to reality and the pressures that hadn’t gone away. Like the house rezoning holdup. The questions over her career, made worse by a message from Rosie that Mal, the director of As The Heart Draws , wanted a meeting.
A meeting with Mal meant canceling a date with Zac, which he’d said he understood, but she could tell he was disappointed anyway. Especially as he was scheduled to leave on a long east coast road trip the next day, so she wasn’t due to see him until the All-Star weekend. But even so, it wasn’t fair to keep asking him to support her. He’d proved himself an excellent friend, just like Diana. But she couldn’t keep using him, leaning on him like they were a real couple. She was being unfair.
“Ainsley, you know I’ve long been a fan of yours, but lately I’ve been very concerned.” Mal leaned back in his chair, opposite Ainsley.
Ainsley clasped the arms of her chair. “You know the photo wasn’t me.”
“I know. But the fact your name is associated at all with a gentlemen’s club—”
“There weren’t any gentlemen inside there,” she murmured.
“See? When you make snide comments like that you’re not the Ainsley we all know and love. I can’t help but wonder how this is going to impact our show.”
Regret panged. “I’m sorry. I only ever went to try and help the women who worked there as part of my church’s ministry. I certainly never meant any of my actions to hurt anyone.”
“Well, your lack of judgement is particularly unfortunate. Surely you have been in this industry long enough to know that people read the photo, not the story, that it’s about image, not reality.”
Like her fake relationship with Zac.
Mal’s frown seemed carved in stone. “I hope you know we’re very disappointed, and don’t want to see another peep from you regarding this kind of thing again.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
He seemed satisfied with her nonspecific promise. Because nonspecific it would need to be. She’d do her best… to do what she felt God wanted her to do. And if that meant Mal and Rosie weren’t happy with her, then let the chips fall where they may.
“Lord, You need to direct my paths. Because right now, everything seems a little too blurry for me to see a thing.”
The next morning her phone rang. She glanced at the name on the screen, and her heart lifted. “Hey, Jackie.”
“Ainsley, how are you doing?”
“Things seem to be calming down. At least on the social media front.”
She explained a little, but didn’t share too much.
“But enough about me. What’s happening with you? It must almost be time for your baby?”
“Things are going well. I have a couple of friends who have been really helpful in advising on what to expect.”
Ainsley closed her eyes. A baby. A family. It seemed impossible for her. Especially with the breakup that loomed a mere two weeks away.
She tuned back into Jackie’s happy chatter.
“… Lincoln has been looking at starting a production company.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He’s said it’s been on his heart for a while now, so we’ll see. It’s hard to find companies that are willing to make Christian stories that some might consider more gritty, but we’ve been praying.”
Her pulse increased. Was this an opportunity? She was tempted to admit her interest, but something held her back. “Thank you for calling.”
“You’ve been on our hearts since that awful picture made the rounds. You know that we’re praying for you.”
“Thanks. Please continue to pray. There are so many other things that need resolving.”
“Like Zac kind of things?”
She was tempted to tell Jackie the truth about that arrangement as well, but kept her lips sealed. It wouldn’t be fair to have all these people know the details when he was the person most affected. Telling the truth like that would just expose him and wasn’t kind or what a friend should do.
And he had to remain a friend. Had to. Something that would be put to the test at the All-Stars game.
Rosie was wrong. Far from Ainsley picking up hockey fans, the people watching the NHL’s best players seemed blissfully unaware of her existence. Which might’ve had something to do with her deciding to dress incognito, in jeans and boots, and a nameless jersey. When Zac saw that she was not wearing his Parotti jersey, he looked a little disappointed. But she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, didn’t want to embarrass him. Already it felt like coming here was a mistake, giving weight to hopes she couldn’t fulfill. She wished she could support him and this could be real, without all the messy motives. How different things could have been if she hadn’t made him agree to this ridiculous arrangement.
At least it was a chance to get to know some of the other women connected to Zac’s online Bible study group. Hannah James and Bree Vaughan she’d met before, but to meet Jai Mullins’s wife Allie, and Holly Karlsson and her fellow Aussie Sarah Walton, wife of Toronto’s star defenseman Dan, was a thrill. But even as she swapped notes with them about travel and movies and the Three Creek Ranch, she felt a sense of shame too. She was here, playing a part. This wasn’t real. Not like it was for these women who wore wedding rings, and had babies, and hadn’t faked relationships. They’d earned their husbands fair and square. The fact that she was using Zac to salvage her reputation felt so wrong in comparison. And while he might’ve agreed, she still felt like she was doing him wrong.
The All-Star game this year was a different format to normal, or so Holly said. She should know, having attended the last five All-Star games to support her husband, whom many considered a legend in the sport. She gathered from what she heard some of the others say that Zac was considered of a similar caliber, which made her feel a little bit honored that he would want to spend time with someone like her, whose knowledge of the game was not vast. She tried to admit this to the others, and was met with smiles and laughter.
Bree shrugged. “I grew up with hockey, but I didn’t love the sport. In fact, I always felt like I grew up playing second fiddle to it, but I suppose that’s what happens when Brent plays like that.”
Sarah smiled. “I knew nothing about the game when I first met Dan. He actually liked that because it meant I wasn’t a groupie.”
“I was the groupie,” Allie admitted. “I’ve always loved the game, and might’ve once run a fan club for Jai.”
“No way.”
“Not that he knew.” She winked. “Let’s just say it worked out.”
“You might’ve known about the sport, but it’s not like you were just about Jai,” Bree said. “You’ve always had a thing for art, and he respected you enough to move from Chicago to San Jose for your new job.”
“Wow.” Kudos to the man. That was impressive.
Holly nodded. “I think Brent was similar. He liked the fact that I wasn’t clingy and that I had my own career.”
“Holly is studying medicine now, but is an Olympic gold-medal-winning short-track skater,” Bree said proudly.
“Wow, congratulations.”
“Yeah, it was a while ago now, but thank you.” Holly looked at her. “Maybe that’s part of why Zac appreciates you. You’re independent, and don’t need him in your life to the degree that some women might. I think we underestimate the fact that there are men out there who appreciate their wife having a degree of independence.”
That actually made sense. Zac was so busy and knew that she was too, so their relationship, as fake as it may be, wasn’t so much about quantity of time, but the quality. And while some might question the quality, she felt more connected to him than with any other guy she’d met before.
“Look, they’re coming out.”
The game soon started, and she watched as the men played with skills and smarts. The crowd was made up of many Minnesotans, who cheered loudly each time Mitch Reilly took to the ice.
She watched how he delivered hits, until Brent, his captain, took him aside.
“Mitch is always a little excitable,” Hannah said, her tone dry.
Seemed so.
It was interesting to watch the caliber of play. She was used to Vancouver’s skills, but here, where every player was either nominated by their team or had been voted in by fans, meant all the bells and whistles were on display.
Zac was especially awesome, his fast pivots and moves making him seem to dance across the ice. Until he hit the human wall that was Mitch Reilly, and tumbled into the boards, and the arena hushed.
* * *
Now that was how an All-Star game was not supposed to go. Zac blinked, the darkness clearing, as his sight settled. Fear pricked. He moved his toes. Thank goodness he could feel them. He wiggled his fingers. The trainer was speaking, but he could barely hear him. There was a rush of noise in his ears.
He blinked, wondering if blinking cleared hearing loss. Then swallowed. Oh, that helped.
“Can you stand?” the black-and-white striped official yelled.
He rolled to his side, gasped at the pain.
“We need a stretcher!” someone called.
“No, don’t.” His gaze found concerned faces. Mike, Franklin, Jai, Brent Karlsson, the opposing team’s captain. He wouldn’t be weak, wouldn’t be soft. He had to get up.
He tried to push upright, but his back spasmed, and he slumped back down. But he didn’t want to be stretchered off. He didn’t want to scare Ainsley. He glanced up, sent Mike and Franklin a silent plea for help.
Mike nodded, skated over, bent down. “Here.” Franklin and Brent helped him upright. And as the players tapped their sticks on the ice and the crowd applauded, he peered up. But the crowds were too blurry, and his back was too sore, and he needed to get off the ice before the nausea he could feel rising—oh, too late.
“They’re calling it an upper body injury,” he explained to his mom on a phone call the next day, “but it’s the same muscle I pulled before.”
He shivered. He was too young to have a career-defining injury. Some players played through chronic pain but he’d always been really careful with his diet and vitamins to ensure he was in top shape. To have his muscles give out on him like this showed he wasn’t as strong as he’d once thought.
“Oh, Zac.” His mom sighed. “I’m glad it’s not more serious.”
It sure felt plenty serious. “Concussion protocols mean I’ll be sitting out the next few games.”
“Well, you know you’re always welcome to come visit. Unless you’re too busy with your Ainsley.”
His Ainsley? Sometimes it felt like they lived in parallel worlds. She might’ve come to the All-Star game, and been appropriately shocked and stunned by his injury, but he couldn’t help but feel a renewed distance between them. And he got that she was still stressed about her aunt, and her career, and the fact that some people were still sniggering about the fake photo of her. He’d encountered a few of those at the All-Star tourney, among both players and fans.
But the fact she kept playing this get-close-then-pull-away game was getting really old. He just wanted her to be his girlfriend. For real. And he suspected that while part of her resisted, part of her wanted the same.
But how to find out, when this was a conversation to have in person, and their schedules remained at loggerheads, he didn’t know.
“… still hope she’ll show me the ranch where she works one day.”
He tuned back into what his mom was saying. “I heard her ask Cassie about it, so hopefully they can set something up soon.”
“Cassie? Who’s Cassie?”
“Franklin James’s sister. She runs the western town of the Three Creek Ranch.”
“I see.” She sighed. “Well, I just hope it will be soon. Now, speaking of Ainsley, do you have any more plans with her?”
He winced.
“That silence is not sounding like a no to me.”
His mom knew him too well. “She asked me to go to a wrap party of her Christmas mysteries show.”
His mom squealed. “Oh, when is it? Do you think I could come too?”
No way, Jose. “Sorry Ma. This is cast and crew and significant others only.”
“Oh, I love that you’re Ainsley Beckett’s significant other.” His mom’s sigh was flavored with happiness.
He wished he could be so confident in how Ainsley saw him. Because sometimes he wondered just how significant he was to her, or whether she only saw him as a means to an end. An end that may just happen on Valentine’s Day.
“Thank you for coming.” Ainsley smiled up at him.
Her smile skittered through his soul. He pushed it down. Nodded back. “No problem.”
“Especially when I know you’ve been in pain.” She touched his back. He withheld a wince. “How is it feeling?”
“It’s still not perfect, but we’re seeing some improvement.”
It was ridiculous how one little muscle could affect so much. Ridiculous also, the amount of energy one needed to expend to see it reach full working order again. After sitting out two games, he’d played the last one and realized the niggles still remained.
“I’m glad you could come. The producers thought it would be helpful to give a little more publicity.”
Seriously? She only wanted him for publicity? Still? His stomach roiled in protest. Had that knock to his head affected his cognitive ability? Or had it finally knocked sense to his brain, and he was finally seeing things clearly? Like the fact she really had meant this as a friendship-only thing, and never been interested in him? He might’ve thought her kiss said otherwise, but she was an actress, right? She was used to getting people to believe things that weren’t true. And he was the chump who had fallen for her, hook, line and sinker.
Oh, God, help me.
Somehow he managed to keep it together. Somehow he managed to shrug. “Hey, I’m used to people using me.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that.”
“But that’s what this is, right? An arrangement. A business arrangement, I believe you called it.”
She stared at him. “Do you not want to do this anymore?”
“It’s fine.”
“Is it?” She bit her lip.
It would be. Once he figured out how to compartmentalize his emotions. Again. “It’s been a big week.”
“I know.” She pressed his arm sympathetically. So not helping. “I watched the game on TV last night.”
“Yeah? What did you think?”
“You were great! Two goals! Yay you.”
“Yay me.” His voice was too flat. He knew that. He had to paste on happiness, like he didn’t care that she didn’t care for him.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope.” He braced. “Come on. Let’s meet these friends of yours.”
Somehow, he managed to get through the next two hours, playing the game that Ainsley wanted him to. Pretending to be her boyfriend, holding her hand, touching her back occasionally, nothing more.
This was a wrap party of the cast and crew of A Christmas Splash , at a restaurant on the waterfront that he’d visited a time or two before. The food was great, even if some of the conversation and company had him yawning inside. Maybe it was him, but some actors seemed to spend an awful lot of time talking about themselves, offering their opinions like they thought they were wrapped in gold.
Ainsley didn’t do that, he’d noticed. She was friendly to everyone, super sweet, her conversation focused on others. She asked people about their families, their upcoming projects, proving she was a really good actress as she even seemed interested. It made him wonder whether she was always like this or if some of this was an act, and the real Ainsley was hiding in there somewhere.
It was weird being here, almost like what he imagined a gigolo must feel like, the woman’s paid escort, except he was paid in free meals and the sight of Ainsley in another stunning outfit. Which certainly didn’t help him try to wrestle down these feelings into mere friendship.
She sidled up to him as the party continued around them. “How are you doing?”
“Can I say I’ll be glad when we go home?”
“Me too,” she whispered.
She looked at him with that mischievous glint that suggested they actually still shared a connection. But he couldn’t let his heart get carried away. For as smiling as she was, he recognized that smile as fake. That if she could act as well as this with her peers, then how much had she been stringing him along?
She glanced at him. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t want to do this. “I probably need to go home soon as it’s getting late.”
“Okay, then. I’ll make the round of farewells.”
His hopes of leaving soon fell, as that sounded like actress-speak that would equate with another two hours. “Sorry, Ains, but I really need to go now.”
“Zac? Are you okay?”
“My back is sore.”
“Do you need an ice pack? A massage?”
How he wished he could know for certain whether her concern was genuine. Well, he sensed it was genuine concern, but he wished she regarded him as genuine. It’d be really good to go back to a home they shared together, where an innocent massage could turn into something more—
Whoa. He needed to stop that.
She touched him. He flinched. Shifted away.
“Zac? What is it?”
“Look, I’m tired. I don’t mind if you want to stay, but I have to leave.”
“Let’s go then.”
She waved goodbye to various people, but when Jason kissed her cheek Zac had to turn away. Jason might not be a Christian, but someone like him looked way more suited to Ainsley than he seemed to be. Jason knew how to play the fake game anyway.
Driving home, he really wished he had organized a driver. His back was aching and his heart hurt even more.
She glanced across at him. “Zac, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She couldn’t help being the star in the night sky. She couldn’t know that he’d fallen for her pretty much at the same time that she’d fallen on those stairs. That wasn’t her fault. That was on him.
“Zac, if I’ve done something wrong, you need to tell me.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” Oldest line in the world. Even if it was true, about his back at least.
She was quiet for the remainder of the brief trip to her apartment, and insisted he did not get out because he was in pain.
But as he watched her walk away, he wondered if this would be their last meeting before Valentine’s Day.
Valentine’s Day. When she’d surely end things, once and for all.