Chapter 28
Cal
Itry not to rush with Donna’s heifer, but she couldn’t have chosen a worse time to give birth. After losing hope I’d ever see Frankie again, she’s back. This time for good…I think. I hope. Either way, I’ve got a second chance with her.
But instead of my hands cupping her beautiful face, they’re in a very different place helping a first-time mom deliver a healthy calf. There’s beauty in that, too, but I’d still rather be with Frankie right now.
Finally, the calf comes. Once I know he and mama are both healthy, I clean up a bit and head home to Frankie. The house is quiet and dark by the time I arrive. The only light on is in the guest room, which is good news. Frankie and I may actually have some alone time.
I open the door carefully, not wanting to wake anyone, especially Junie. But I’ll need a shower before I get anywhere near Frankie, otherwise I’ll be spending the rest of the night alone. I stink.
But when I step inside, she’s sitting on the couch in the front room. She pops up when she sees me, and I put up a hand to stop her. “Stay where you are. You can probably smell me from there. I’m covered in cow…stuff.”
She stops a few feet away. Honestly, it’s the right decision, but I’m kind of disappointed she doesn’t run into my arms because I haven’t been able to get my mind off of her all day. But when she smiles, it’s not in the same way she did when I left. This smile is nervous and jumpy.
“Cal, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“Can I take a quick shower first so you can tell me up close?” I take a chance what I’m seeing on Frankie’s face isn’t what I think it is.
She looks like a half-broke horse eyeing an open gate.
“I think I got the part I auditioned for,” she blurts, confirming what I sensed from her face.
Either I take too long to say anything, or she’s too excited to wait for me because she keeps going. “It’s not for sure, but Alison Fisher’s assistant rang my agent about a callback.”
“What’s a callback?” I ask.
Frankie’s smile slips. I’ve said the wrong thing. I should be happy for her.
“Alison wants me to come back in, this time to read with the male lead. If we’ve got the right chemistry, I reckon it’s a go.
If not, she’ll choose which of us she wants more or start fresh with two other actors.
” She presses her toes into the carpet and turns her ankle in a slow circle while she explains. First the right then the left.
“When?” I stare at the impression her bare feet have left in the carpet.
“What?”
I lift my eyes to hers. “The callback. When do you have to be there?”
She pulls in her bottom lip. “Tomorrow at three. In LA.”
I blink. “You’re leaving?”
“Only for the day. I can be back the next morning.”
“And if you get the part?” I don’t mean for the question to sound like an accusation, but I can’t take it back now.
I’m having flashbacks to Kayla telling me she’s leaving—three different times—then changing her mind a day or two later and coming back. Until the last time she did it, she couldn’t come back.
Frankie’s smile disappears completely, along with her excitement, and I have to look away when she says, “I thought you’d be happy for me, Cal. I told you I auditioned. This is a huge opportunity.”
I knew the risks of getting involved with Frankie Forsythe, and I ignored them. I fooled myself into believing Junie and I would be enough for her. I take a breath to steady myself before I look at her again. “You’re right. I am happy for you. If this is what you want, you should go for it.”
Four breaths.
That’s how much time passes before Frankie walks to me.
“Really, Frankie, I smell.” I try to back away but hit the wall. She’s already in front of me anyway. So close, I could hold her like I want to.
“This role isn’t the only thing I want, Cal.” Frankie says.
If she reached out, I wouldn’t be able to resist her touch.
But she holds me with her gaze and her words. Nothing else.
“I want to be here with you and Junie, too. But acting is a part of my life I loved. Still do. I’ve dreamed of a role like this, not only because I love the book it’s based on and the script, but also because I did the work to get the audition.
If I'm given the part no one can accuse me of being a nepo baby this time around.”
“Why did you run from Hollywood if you love it?” I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t touch me, but my anger grows, and I want to make sure she doesn’t get closer.
Her eyes narrow in confusion. “Not Hollywood. Acting. They’re two different things. I love acting, not Hollywood, just like you love animals, but not the crap that comes with caring for them.”
“The difference is, I can wash off the crap. You can’t.
Fans follow you. The press comes after you.
They don’t care about your privacy. There’s no way to wash that crap away.
That’s what you ran from, and now you’re running right back to it.
” I let out all my disappointment in a run of thoughts I should keep to myself.
Frankie’s expression morphs from confusion into hurt. I wish I could take back what I’ve said and be the first to reach out. But she backs away before I can.
“I didn’t run from acting, Cal.” Her voice is hard and rings with the same hurt that’s on her face.
“I ran from bad press, and my father, and Brandon. And I gave up the thing that I loved because I ran. I don’t want to do that again.
Serenity feels like home.” With an exhale her body softens. “You feel like home.”
Her eyes search my face for something, but whatever she sees there isn’t enough. She pulls back her shoulders and lifts her chin in a challenge. “But being on set also feels like home. Being in front of a camera, telling a story; that’s part of who I am.”
“You can’t live in both worlds, Frankie. Here and Hollywood,” I say weakly.
“Why not?” She angles her head, forcing me to look at her. “We can figure this out. It’s not impossible for me to be here with you and Junie, but to also still have my life as an actor.”
I said something similar to Kayla when I asked—no, convinced—her to marry me. She could still have fun. Be her own person and have her own life, even with a baby and husband.
I was wrong.
I shake my head. “I can’t live two lives. Having you here for a little while, then gone again. Worrying what’s going to be written about you and us. Explaining to Junie that I don’t know when you’re coming back, or if you’re coming back.”
“There are ways to manage the press. And there’s no if. I’ll always come back,” Frankie snaps.
“I don’t want to count days until you do, knowing you’re staying will always be temporary. What happens when you have to shoot in—I don’t know—Thailand or Africa, and you’re there for months at a time? That’s not fair to Junie.”
“Or maybe I don’t take those parts,” she counters. “Can we cross that bridge when, or if, we come to it?”
I want to say yes. If this were just about me, I would. But Junie’s the most important person here. I have to think of her. I have to put her first.
“I can’t do it, Frankie,” I force myself to look at her.
I have to be honest with her and myself.
“I don’t think I have it in me to put my heart on the line, and I can’t play with Junie’s.
She needs a mom, and I can’t be with someone who I’m worried will always want to be somewhere else besides with me.
You hang out with famous people and wear fancy clothes.
I’ve spent the day with cows and can’t even stand to smell myself. ”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t smell anything but hard work.
All I see is a man who spent the day at a job he loves after having a tea party with the daughter he loves.
” She waves a hand in the direction of the kitchen where we had our high tea.
“And, until today, I thought that man would understand I need to do the thing I love, too. I didn’t think he’d say, ‘this is too hard.’ Not on the same day he’d told me, ‘relationships are complicated.’”
I scrape my hand through my hair. “I guess I need something less complicated. Not because I don’t want you, but because I have Junie to think about.”
Frankie lets out a long, disappointed breath. “Who’s running now, Cal?”
I don’t have an answer before she turns and walks away, hollowing out every part of me. The only thing left is wanting.
Wanting to take back what I’ve said. Wanting to trust her when she says she’ll come back. Wanting her to stay.
I take a breath, and I’m hit with the stink of sweat, manure, and fear.