Chapter 22
Now
Before setting out on our walk, we decide we should check in with Jase and let him know we’re not coming. I nestle against Ryder as he puts the call on speaker, his fingers idly tracing the waistband of my shorts beneath my sweatshirt.
“What do you mean, you fainted?” Jase says once we’ve filled him in, alarm in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reassure him. I’m more than fine—I’m up close and personal with Ryder’s collarbone. I drop a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat because I can’t help myself. “Sorry to leave you hanging tonight. Do you mind going it alone?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll streak the stage or something, they won’t even notice you guys are gone.” I snicker while Ryder sighs and shakes his head. “And by the way, you didn’t need to come up with some bogus story to throw me off. I obviously know what you two are really up to.”
That stops my snuggling in its tracks. “I—what?” I stammer, my flailing only making us sound guiltier. “That’s not—”
“Oh please, I’m thrilled for you guys. I’ve never been so excited to be a third wheel again.”
I look up at Ryder with wide eyes, finally noticing his smirk, and realization dawns. “You already told him?” I exclaim, and he shrugs, entirely unbothered. “You two are worse than a couple of teenage girls.”
“Guilty as charged,” Jase quips.
“Hey, speaking of teenage girls—Kendall requested that I pinch your butt,” I tell Jase as Ryder snorts. “I declined.”
“You tell Kendall she should come and put her money where her mouth is,” Jason taunts, and I make a gagging noise. “Next time we’ll have to figure out how to win back both Everhart sisters.”
It takes a second to sink in. “Wait a minute.” I narrow my eyes and snatch the phone out of Ryder’s hand. “Jase, were you in on this the whole time?”
“What did you think, I was just going to stand back and watch the two of you screw this up for another ten years? A man can only take so much moping.”
I gape at Ryder, but he just grins, unrepentant. I cannot believe these two. The collusion! “How did I not see this?” I wonder aloud. I’m a stupid woman.
“She’s costarred in four movies with me and she’s still surprised I can act,” Jase says dryly, and Ryder huffs a laugh, tucking me back against his side. “Hey, one last question before I go do all three of our jobs.”
“What’s that?” I absently run my fingers along the seam of Ryder’s shirt, and when I glance up at him, he’s smiling at me, a softness in his eyes. I can’t stop touching him. I have a decade of Ryder withdrawal to make up for.
“When’s the wedding?”
I stab the End Call button, hanging up on him.
“You’re a blabbermouth,” I scold Ryder, sliding the phone—slowly, ever so slowly—into his pants pocket. It’s delicious torture.
“True.” He catches my hand and pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Some things are too good to keep secret.”}
After Ryder grabs a pair of shorts from his car, we head out for our walk, strolling hand in hand along the water’s edge as the tide splashes over our toes, the foam curling around our ankles.
The beach is mostly empty, save for a few off-leash dogs romping wildly through the surf, their owners trailing leisurely behind.
It’s an idyllic Seafolly sunset, the sky streaked in shades of pink and periwinkle.
Pelicans coast over the cresting waves in an uneven V, their outstretched wings kissing the white caps.
A breeze moves through the dune grass just beyond the shore, rustling soft as a lullaby.
But despite the serenity of our surroundings, it doesn’t take long for my nerves to get the better of me. “So what will this look like?”
He glances at me sidelong, the wind ruffling his hair, the tips at his nape curling up in the salty air. “What do you want it to look like?”
“I just mean, I don’t live here.”
“You could live here.”
I make a face. “Come on, I’m being serious.
This is about to be the most intense year of my life.
The Ingenue is scheduled to be a five-month shoot, and that’s if everything goes as planned.
We’ll be in so many different locations all over Europe, I won’t even know what time zone I’m in.
And then there’s postproduction. It’s just a lot.
And if you recall, being separated didn’t work out that well for us the first time.
” Acid builds in my stomach at the memory of how quickly the distance broke us before, how foolish I’d been to believe our three-week rule would be the thing to save us.
“You seem to have forgotten that I’m retired,” he says, wagging his brows playfully. “I can go anywhere, do anything. I can follow you around Europe. I can be your personal umbrella holder,” he jokes.
“But what about your life here?” I counter, not willing to let him off the hook that easily. “You just got finished telling me how happy you are here. You came to Seafolly because you wanted to put down roots, be in one place for a while.”
“No, I came to Seafolly because I wanted to reevaluate my life and figure out what my next phase looked like. I was tired of running away from things. I’m ready to run toward something.” He eases me to a stop, eyes sparkling as he bends to kiss me. “Or someone.”
I stare at him as he pulls back, my feet sinking into the wet sand like mini suction cups. “You’re serious. You’d come with me overseas? Just like that?”
“You make it sound like a Mediterranean tour is some big sacrifice,” he says with a look like he’s amused by me. “Remember I told you I’m trying to find something to develop? That mostly involves reading a lot of books. I can do that from anywhere.”
“And then what?” I press, still searching for the crack in the foundation that will surely lead to our demise. “What happens when you’re ready to film? Do we trade off?”
He considers that. “Sure, if that’s how you want to handle it. But honestly, I’m not all that worried about it. I think we could handle a separation better than we could before, don’t you?”
Do I? I blink at him, not sure what I think. I think I’m terrified—of letting my guard down, of putting my heart in his hands again, of history repeating itself. Of losing him all over again.
It’s like he can read my thoughts. He twists one of my rogue curls around his finger and tugs lightly. “You don’t trust this yet. That’s okay. We’ll get there.”
“I’m jealous of your confidence,” I admit. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
A gentle smile curves his lips. “You’re bracing for the worst, but Scar, we’ve already been through the worst.”
The man has a point. “It just feels too easy,” I say sheepishly.
“That’s because it is easy now. It wasn’t then. Ten years ago we had no control, no resources, no perspective. Everything is different now.”
Could it really be that simple? Could things just…work this time? I desperately want to let myself believe it, even if it feels too good to be true.
“Think about it this way,” he says, sliding his fingers through mine and tracing slow circles against my palm with his thumb.
“If you want me with you, I’ll be with you.
If you want some space to work, I’ll give you space to work.
The exact amount you want me there is how much I’ll be there.
I’ll support you however I can. I can be your assistant, or your personal migraine masseuse.
I’ll costar in the movie for free. I’ll do an uncredited cameo. ”
I grin and wind my arms around his neck. “And let you steal my thunder? Never.”
He snorts, hooking his fingers through my belt loops and pulling me flush against him. “I can also just be your boyfriend.”
I hum in pleasure. “I like the sound of that.”
“I can rub your feet at the end of a long day. I can make you dinner,” he offers, and I arch a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t look so surprised!” he says, laughing. “I’ve actually become a pretty decent cook.”
“Is that right?” I scrape my nails through the hair at his nape, lowering my voice to a purr. “What other new skills have you picked up?”
A match strikes behind his eyes, the gold of his irises eclipsed by black. “Only one way to find out.”
His mouth finds mine, and within seconds, our kiss surges from a spark to a blazing bonfire.
The press of his body erases everything else, the outside world fading away, and I no longer care where we are or who might see.
His hunger is a perfect match for my own, intense and all-consuming.
I’m drowning in the heat of his hands and mouth, in the ache that’s been smoldering since last night on the boat.
Just then, a football bounces into our legs, interrupting our slow slide into public indecency.
Ryder releases me with a reluctant groan before scooping the ball up and spiraling it back to a couple of snickering boys up the beach.
I watch him eye them for an extra beat, and when he looks back at me, I know we’re both thinking the same thing.
“Can you imagine? We’d have a ten-year-old.” The quiet awe in his voice makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
“We would’ve been a couple of kids raising a kid.” It’s surreal to finally speak openly about this with him, to voice the thoughts that have ricocheted in my head for a decade.
He laces our fingers back together, resuming our ambling walk. “I know we were young, but I think we would’ve figured it out. I think I would’ve surprised you.”
I smile wistfully. “I like to think so too.”
“I would have asked you to marry me.”
My pulse misfires, and I stumble in the sand. “Or there would have been a Ryder-shaped hole in the door,” I deflect, masking my reaction with a joke.
He gives his head a firm shake. “No way. I would’ve immediately gone out and bought a ring.”
I laugh lightly, hoping I sound casual. “You think so, huh?”
His eyes dance, the shimmering tide reflected in the striations of his eyes. “I know so.”
“So confident,” I tease, nudging his shoulder with mine. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I did buy one.”