9. Tinsley
CHAPTER 9
Tinsley
“Now this is how a man should apologize,” Briar announces walking into the kitchen. In her hands is a textured glass vase with a massive floral arrangement. There’s honestly no other word for it but huge. The vase is overflowing with the most beautiful and eclectic bunch of wildflowers in every shape, color, and size. She sets it on the island and plucks out a card, handing it over and informing me, “He went and ordered these in person.”
“How do you know?”
When I turn it over, I know how. No florist would have such horrible penmanship. The cramped chicken scratch on the tiny card is all Archer.
“Read it out loud,” Briar demands, crossing her arms as she leans onto the counter and buries her face in my flowers.
“‘Tinsley, saying I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to feel like enough, but I am. I would never dream of belittling what it is you do. It’s nothing short of incredible, and I hate that I’ve kicked at something that has hurt you in the past. I’m in awe of you—I always have been—and everything you’ve accomplished. You went out and conquered the world, making it fall in love with you one beautiful song at a time. Please forgive me, Archer.’” Taking my own turn to breathe in the sweet perfume, I murmur, “No one’s ever given me flowers except him.”
“Never? How did I not know that?”
I meet Briar’s empathetic blue eyes and shake my head. “Never.” Caressing a peach colored petal, I tell her, “These were the flowers he brought me on our first date. He was all Southern charm when he showed up at my door: crisp white button down, dark wash and starched jeans, his ‘dress’ boots and Stetson, and a bouquet of these in his hand.”
I never thought about what my favorite flower was but after that night, it was these.
“I had my first kiss that night too. Right at the door like a proper gentleman.”
My fingertips trace my lips as I remember the way Archer held my hand all the way to the door. How patient he was while I dug around for my keys, having wanted to delay his leaving me as long as possible. And how when I found them, he took off his hat and bent down to kiss me. He’d used his other hand to tilt my chin up and cup my cheek, and when his lips brushed against mine—frozen and completely unsure what to do—he guided me through until I was dropping both my purse and my keys to fist his shirt, pulling him into me as I fell back against the closed door, whimpering into him.
I’m pretty sure had Archer not had the will of a god, that kiss would have led to us losing our virginities. But he did. He kissed me until I was breathless, then picked up my things, unlocked my door for me, and waited in the hall until he heard me turn the lock.
That kiss was frenetic as was every single one after it.
Frenetic.
Rapturous.
All-consuming.
He could break me apart with the touch of his lips and build me back up with the caress of his tongue.
Briar pulls me back from the brink of the abyss and asks, “Do you forgive him?”
It’s a self deprecating smile that graces my lips. “They weren’t his words to apologize for. Not that it matters. This changes nothing.”
“How can it not?” she cries. “He sent you flowers with an apology he wrote himself. Tins, that’s, like, so incredibly romantic. We would be total simps for one of Skylar’s men if they did that and yelling at the FMC for saying blasphemous shit like, ‘this changes nothing.’ It changes everything! It shows his contrition and how much he cares. Tinsley, please, please, please! I’m begging you. Give the man a chance—a proper chance.”
“Briar,” I mumble, willing the tears that are threatening to fall over back inside. “It can’t go anywhere. He doesn’t understand my life. Yesterday made that perfectly clear. Doing anything now would only lead to more heartache.”
She plops down on a stool and reaches across the island for my hands. Giving them a light squeeze, she waits for me to look at her. When I do, she has a soft, beseeching smile.
“He doesn’t have to understand, babe. He supports you and inspires you. That’s infinitely more important. Just think about it,” she finishes, patting my hand before hopping back down. “I’m gonna go put my face on so we can log on for the interview on time.”
“Okay,” I absently acknowledge, my attention already blurring as I stare at the flowers. I have an hour to obsess before I have to pack it all away and meet with the reporter who's doing a cover story about Summer Haze for a monthly pop culture focused magazine, and I plan to use every minute of it so I don’t accidentally spill any details about the Hayes behind my summer haze.
* * *
It’s well after lunch by the time my interview with Tia is finished. I don’t know how she’ll possibly condense the hours of conversation we had into her article.
We talked about the process behind the songs’ original creation and how it differed to my process now; the unconventional, surprise release I had for the album; and the reason behind why I’m quoted as saying Summer Haze is my most personal and vulnerable album to date. And, of course, like a dog with a bone, she held on tight to her probing questions about the man behind the album. In a moment of complete candor, I confessed that the album was for the only man I’ve ever loved, the one I let get away. Thankfully, I had Briar there and she squashed any further questions in order to stem the resulting deluge that would have occurred.
It seems when it comes to how I feel about Archer, I can’t keep my mouth shut about him. Unless of course he’s the one I’m talking to. Then I clam up, shut him out, and shutter any trace of feeling I still have for him.
With a bit of time to kill before meeting Ellie and Ryder at the ranch and groceries that need to be purchased—a weekly errand I love getting to do for myself again—we followed the interview with a trip into town. Our first stop was, of course, Berry Station, where Tiff immediately started making my strawberry frappé and Briar’s iced Dirty Hippie Chai Latte when we walked in.
Drinks in hand, we strolled the town square, popping in and out of shops at our leisure. Not so subtle glances and less than hushed whispers still happen, but they’ve already begun to die down, continuing to prove my point to Briar. They’re not overly impressed. If anything, the chatter around my being in town isn’t so much about my celebrity but about my history with Archer. There’s still a few moments though—Ellie’s number one fan status aside—that are most definitely related to my name recognition, but they’re few and far between, and much more polite than I’m used to experiencing in L.A. They don’t treat me like a zoo animal here.
Inside Between the Covers—the cheekily named romance bookstore in town that’s owned by Ames’s younger sister, Ember—we’re browsing through books on the hunt for Skylar’s name on the shelves. The store is absolutely adorable, with an eclectic mismatch of shabby chic decor, much like our vacation rental.
Out front, the shop is painted eucalyptus green with gold lettering above the door and vines of creeping blush roses reaching up and over in an arch. Inside, she used old brick pavers from around town for the flooring and has robin’s egg colored rugs layered on top. New releases, best sellers, and employee recommendations are showcased along a collection of salvaged fireplaces painted in ecru while the rest of the store’s supply is displayed on the shelves of China cabinets in the same shade of old world white. With its tufted armchairs and old window panes turned coffee tables showing pictures of past events and a complimentary afternoon tea service every day, her store is the kind of place a bibliophile could enter and never return from.
Case in point, the first time Briar and I came in, we stayed until closing, not realizing how much time had passed.
“Found it,” I celebrate, holding it up triumphantly.
Briar gives me a little cheer and a shimmy, her drink precariously in her hand as she starts digging around in her purse. “Got it!” she announces, waving her phone. A few seconds later, the tone of a video chat trying to connect rings, and then Skylar’s bright face fills the phone.
“Look!” we both shout, shoving her book baby into the camera. “She’s gorgeous,” I add, gently hugging the cover to my chest. “People are going to love Zander. I mean, seriously, ugh!” I swoon.
“Please, please, please, can we put him and Maddie on Tins’s socials?” Briar begs.
“No!” Skylar laughs. “I told you both, I did not want any help with this book. It’s why I used a pseudonym and have reminded you both—numerous times—to keep your lips zipped about it. I want to succeed on my own merit. Not with Tinsley’s name or mine launching it out there.”
“That and people would shit a sideways brick if they knew America’s darling was writing filthy, panty melting, morally gray, masked daddy smut,” Briar points out.
“That too.”
“Fine,” I pout. “But after begging Ember to get the book in-store, we’re buying copies.”
“You know, I can just, like, send you one for free.”
Briar and I look at each other—eyes rolled, brows raised, and matching scoffs as we shake our heads.
“It’s like she doesn’t even know us,” I complain.
“I know. Like we haven’t already pre-ordered from her website, online, and downloaded the ebook this morning.”
Her hazel eyes shine with tears and a smile tugs on her small, full mouth as she sniffles. “I love you guys.”
“We love you too!” we both chorus with Briar adding, “Come join us out here. You can watch Tinsley flounder about over Archer. Maybe get inspiration for a Small Town Era.”
Quickly adjusting in her chair, Skylar leans into the camera and asks with excited conspiracy, “Ooo, how’s that going? Has he seen the… you know?” gesturing along her boob.
“Of course not,” Briar answers in exasperation.
“Girl, what are you waiting for? Show the man your little talisman for him and he will be falling all over himself at having lost you and begging to be taken back.”
“Or he’ll run scared because I’m a psycho who got a tattoo of his name years after we broke up,” I hiss, checking to be sure no one’s around to overhear us.
Shoving my face out of frame, Briar spills, “She’s living in delulu land. He had a house built—an actual house, Skylar—on the lake where they used to spend their days in the very spot he told her he would. The spot he said would be where their home would be. It’s like The goddamn Notebook out here, except neither one of them will make an actual move!”
“That sounds so romantic. Tinsley, what is wrong with you?!”
“Apparently a lot.”
In the background of the video call, we can hear someone knocking on the door of Skylar’s trailer calling out that she’s needed on set in ten minutes.
She gives us a heavy sigh, her exuberance evaporating as she says, “Work calls.”
“Skylar, why did you agree to do the spinoff series?” I ask. “Your show was great, but your character grew up and went off to college. It was a good ending for you and the network. You got to ride the whole series out without cancelation, which is basically unheard of. There was no need for a new, older demographic storyline.”
“I know but…” She looks off camera, hand coming to rest on her chin before remembering her film makeup is on and taking it away. Her shoulders lift in a halfhearted shrug and she mumbles, “Everyone associates me with Hadley Quinn. The show wrapped a year ago and I haven’t been able to get a job since. So when they offered a spinoff on their new adult network after seeing how great this final season’s ratings are doing, I took it.
“Look, they’re waiting on set; I gotta go. Love you girls.”
“Love you too,” we both respond, blowing kisses to the camera before Skylar hangs up.
It’s stuff like this that makes me grateful for Briar. She’s my best friend now and when we first met was an intern at the label, but she’s become a shark of a manager. Always unafraid of getting her hands dirty and unleashing her inner boss babe when people don’t want to play ball. As her one and only client, she’s all about what’s best for me and my career and won’t back down from anyone, myself included, if they’re trying to hold me back or force me into a mold.
She grabs another two copies of Skylar’s book off the shelf and as she’s sneaking it into place on the new release mantle, she says, “Remind me to call Jerimiah and chew his ass out for letting her sign on for that show. Don’t you remember how happy she was when it finally wrapped?
“Personally, I don’t even think she likes acting anymore.”
She startles me as she grabs my shoulders—the high heels she has on making her over six feet tall—and bends down to stress, “Promise me, if there ever comes a day where you don’t want all of this anymore, that you’ll tell me. I mean it, Tins. I won’t let you slave away for the industry if your heart’s not in it. Your happiness is worth so much more to me than my job.”
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. It’s an easy enough promise to make. There’s only ever been one time in my life where I’ve been conflicted about my dreams. And it’s a crossroads I know I’ll never stand before again.
“I swear.”
When she lets me go, we walk up to the counter and greet Ember as she comes out of the back.
“Tinsley, I just got a new shipment of journals in; hold on and I’ll get you the box if you want to have a look,” she greets. Over her shoulder she calls, “Ames, wait! Can you bring the journals out here before you head over to the bar?”
“You’re lucky you’re my favorite!” he yells back. A second later, the door swings open and he walks in carrying a large box. With a grunt, he drops it on her counter. Elbow placed on the open flaps, he rests his chin in his hand and smiles, “Tinsel, Briar, how are y’all? Haven’t seen ya since your performance the other night.”
“Oh God,” I laugh, covering my face. “I’m so sorry. We were a nightmare.”
“Nah, you were just having fun and lettin’ loose. Nothin’ wrong with that. Just happy I have a space where you feel safe enough to do that. I mean, Archer’s kept this town on lock all these years, so really your anonymity is pretty much safe anywhere here in the Falls—not that any of us would’ve said anythin’ to anyone anyhow.”
“What do you mean?”
“When your first song came out, the whole town was buzzin’ about how they thought it was about Archer,” he chuckles. “When someone asked him about it over at the Station, he made it very clear that no one was to be sellin’ shit about you anywhere. Even though you left—and damn was it brutal and fucked him up real good—he thought you might come back after you got your album done, and he wanted you to have a place you could come and be left alone.”
“Brutal?” I ask, disbelief ringing loud and clear. My tongue pushes out my cheek and I will myself to take a breather, but my heart is racing and the thin grip I have on the lid of my emotions is blasted into space. All my media training is out the window, my long buried accent coming in thick and loud. “ He’s the one who didn’t call! Didn’t text! Nothin’! It was complete silence for a year! And like the stupid, silly, little girl I was, I still came back, hopin’ we could put it back together.”
“Woah,” he retreats, hands raised. “I don’t know what’s got you all fired up like a wet cat, but what’d you expect, Tinsley? That he was gonna beg you to stay? Chase you all the way to California?
“You left him. Didn’t even tell him goodbye. Simply wrote a letter sayin’ you loved him but that if you didn’t leave now you weren’t ever going to. It was fuckin’ cold.”
“No, I didn’t! I mean, I did, but what about everything else I said? I told him I was scared, that I—” I cut myself off before I rip that particular wound and what if open. Flexing my fingers at my side and feeling Briar lace hers through mine in support, I take several breaths, attempting to calm myself down and tuck everything back in where it belongs. I’m not the sort to make a scene, yet here I am making another one. First Corey’s car, now shouting at Ames in a bookstore. Several pulsing squeezes from Briar to me and I feel a bit more centered, if only just.
“He still had a year of college left. I had an album to produce. We were on two different paths at the time. But I wanted to stay together and do long distance. He’s the one who threw it all away.
“But I came back just like I promised him I would. He had just graduated and was back home, and I was on tour opening for Landon Rhodes. We had a three day stop in Nashville and I drove out here to see Archer and he…” Rolling my eyes, I rub my finger over the top of my lip, hand shaking, and look away. “It doesn’t matter, Ames. It was a summer romance and we got carried away. That’s all, nothing more.”
Shutting the conversation down, I apologize to Ember and hand over the copies of Skylar’s book to checkout.
Ames still hasn’t left, his brow pulled together and his head canted to the side as he studies me, brow furrowing as his sister bags our purchase and Briar hands over a card to pay.
“You came back?”
I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m not sure what I thought I’d achieve by coming back here, but so far it’s brought me nothing but more pain and regret. I don’t belong in Berry Falls anymore. I’m not sure if I ever did or if I merely felt as if I belonged because I was so wrapped up in Archer. Regardless, I think it’s time Briar and I leave. Not just the store but the town. I can’t mend that which doesn’t want to be fixed and as I’m learning, closure is nothing more than an unfulfilled wish of the broken seeking solace.
“Yeah, Ames; I came back. Hopelessly and foolishly in love, I came back only to find out he had moved on.”
“Moved on?”Ames laughs. “Tinsley, he has never moved on from you. Archer’s as in love with you now as the day you left, and my boy is gonna be in love with you until his last breath.”
“Then why would Hunter…” My question dies off, and on a hunch that’s taking hold of me like a dog with a bone, I absently excuse myself, digging into Briar’s purse for the keys to the SUV. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Go? Go where?” Briar asks.
“To commit a felony.”
“This never would’ve happened in Paris,” she grumbles, chasing after me and taking the keys. “At least let me drive so you don’t kill yourself on the way.”
“Deal.”