Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Tate
Sophia is nothing like what I expected. I’d seen a few photos online, but in person, she’s…different. She reminds me of a girl I dated in college right before I got discovered by the owner of a modeling agency. She’s real. I love that she’s wearing normal clothes and no makeup. I love that she doesn’t seem to care about having her hair and makeup perfectly done just to leave the house. I shake my head as I think of Lacey leaving the house. That woman would take four hours to get ready to go to the grocery store, I mean, that is if she ever went to a grocery store. A pang of sadness hits me as I think about her. Fuck. In a way, I still miss her. Talking with Sophia today has reminded me that I’m all alone again. I don’t have anyone to share my life with and, damn, that hurts.
Sophia is upstairs getting her kids settled for the night, which seems like quite the process. Cal has been down here twice and Lizzie three times. They needed water and a snack, and Lizzie required some stuffed animal that was sitting on the sofa.
I hear someone coming down the stairs. Sophia appears in the hallway leading to the kitchen. She looks tired, and suddenly I feel guilty as if my presence here is draining more of her energy. She leans against the refrigerator and looks at me with a sigh.
“You do that well,” I say.
“Do what well?” she asks with exasperation as she looks around the room.
“The whole mom thing.”
She shakes her head and lets her arms fall to her sides. “I really, and I mean really hate to ask this, but Lizzie is requesting that you read her a bedtime story and I’m pretty sure she’s going to go on a sleep strike until you do it. She keeps saying something about how you are a real actor ”—she makes air quotes—“and will be better at it than me.”
I laugh. “Well, normally I charge for such entertainment, but…” I trail off as I grin at Sophia. She rolls her eyes and then cocks her head to one side.
“Hey, where are you staying?” she asks. And the color drains from my face. Had I thought that far ahead? Nope.
“I…hadn’t figured that out yet,” I admit with a sheepish grin and a shrug.
Her eyes widen a little and then she gives me a pointed look. “You’re telling me that Hollywood’s leading actor jumped on a plane to fly across the country last minute and didn’t even book a hotel or rent a house or whatever celebrities do? Don’t you have, like, a PA or someone that does that shit for you?” she asks.
I can’t help laughing because it all sounds way more ridiculous when she says it. “I do. Paul is taking a vacation to see his family. And…” How do I explain that I had a total epic meltdown and came here to escape life because running away seemed like a way better option than facing my fucked-up reality?
She shakes her head. “You can stay here. There’s a pullout bed in the kids’ playroom downstairs.” She pauses. “I’ll warn you. I haven’t been in the playroom since yesterday, so I have no idea the state it’s in. But there’s at least a bathroom with a shower down there.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” I say, clearing my throat to hide my embarrassment over having to crash on the sofa of a woman I met three hours ago. I haven’t been this big of a disaster since I moved to LA twenty years ago.
“Mr. Tate! Will you read me a story?” Lizzie yells from the top of the steps. I get up and follow Sophia to the front door, turning to look up at Lizzie.
Sophia gives Lizzie a look that I can only describe as a mom look.
“Uh, please?” Lizzie adds.
I press my lips together for a second to fight the grin that threatens. I nod. “Yep.”
“Yes!” Lizzie yells as she throws her hands in the air and twirls. I notice she’s wearing a nightgown that looks like a princess dress.
“My room’s over here,” she says. I glance at Sophia, and she motions for me to go upstairs. I get to the top of the steps and look to my right. I see a bathroom straight ahead and a bedroom on the right and left with the doors facing each other. The one on the right is clearly Cal’s room. He’s already curled up on his bed reading a graphic novel.
“Hey, Mr. Tate,” he says without looking up.
“Hi, Cal,” I reply. Sophia points in the opposite direction to a third bedroom.
“I’ll just be in here packing some things for them. They go to their dad’s tomorrow for vacation,” she explains.
Before I can reply, Lizzie grabs my hand and drags me into her room.
Lizzie’s room looks like how I imagine every seven-year-old’s room who is obsessed with Disney princesses and hockey might look. The oxymoron of the décor is what gives the room all its character. Her furniture is dark mahogany with a four-poster bed that has sheer fabric hung from the ceiling and floating down to cover it. She has posters of various Disney princesses and then next to those are posters of various hockey players. Hockey medals hang from the same wall as dress-up princess outfits and tiaras. A hockey stick is in one corner and a dollhouse is in another corner, a castle dollhouse, mind you. Lizzie sits on her bed surrounded by at least twenty stuffed animals. She watches me carefully. And when my gaze meets hers, she gives me a big toothless smile. She’s adorable.
“Will you read me this bedtime story?” she asks as she holds up a book. Not a short book. No, like a full-length novel. Sophia clears her throat from behind me. “Uh, please?” she begs, mistaking Sophia’s action as a correction to her manners.
“Not the entire story,” Sophia clarifies. Lizzie groans.
“Sure,” I reply as I sit down on a chair near her bed and take the book from her.
“ Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates ,” I state as I read the cover.
She nods enthusiastically.
“Should I read a chapter?” I ask as I look from Lizzie to Sophia.
Lizzie giggles. “Of course, silly! Just one chapter, right, Mom?”
I glance back to Sophia who is leaning against the doorframe. “Yes, one chapter, but Mr. Tate might be tired, so why don’t we say eight pages because there are some long chapters.”
“But, Mom,” Lizzie whines making the last “m” in mom go on for a full three seconds. Then she puts on her best pouty face, her lower lip sticking out as she gives big puppy dog eyes. Sophia rolls her eyes.
“How about ten pages?” I negotiate.
Lizzie puts her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please, Mom, please!”
“Fine,” Sophia moans. “Goodnight, Lizzie-poo.” She walks over and kisses Lizzie’s forehead as she pulls the covers up over her daughter.
“’Night, Mom,” Lizzie replies as she looks over at me. Damn, this kid is awesome. I wonder for a fleeting moment what it would be like to have kids. Maybe if Lacey ever changes her mind and we get back together, I can find out. I hope I can…someday.
I open the book to where a bookmark with leopard spots is wedged between the pages and begin to read. Lizzie giggles at my impression of Hans. As I reach the ninth page, I notice her eyelids starting to sag and by the tenth page she can barely keep them open.
“OK, ten pages. We’ll have to continue later,” I say as I close the book and set it down on her nightstand. Lizzie keeps her eyes shut and curls up into a little ball.
“Goodnight, Mr. Tate,” she whispers. I pull the covers higher up around her.
“Goodnight Lizzie,” I whisper back. Giving her one more glance, I quietly back out of the room and turn off the light. I notice she has a night-light on her desk that projects stars onto her ceiling. I can’t help but smile at the free planetarium show as I walk into the hallway, closing the door behind me, just as Sophia shuts Cal’s door. She turns and runs into me. My hands instinctively grab her upper arms to steady her.
Her hand flies to her chest. “Shit, you scared me,” she whisper-yells.
I smile down at her. “Sorry about that.”
She steps back and I release her after a moment when I realize my hands are still wrapped around her arms. At the rink earlier, I had the strangest desire to reach out and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. And right now, I have that same feeling.
“Come on, we can go downstairs and talk, and I’ll get you set up in the playroom,” she offers as she turns and starts down the steps.
“I probably should have asked this before I let you read to my child. But you’re not like a serial killer or a pervert or something?” she asks as we turn toward her hallway.
“Not that I’m aware,” I reply.
“Good. I don’t usually let strange men stay the night in my home,” she states. Something about that statement makes me happy, but I’m not totally sure why I care if she has strange men here or not.
I follow her into the kitchen, and she opens the refrigerator and holds up a glass pitcher. “Water?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say.
“The water on the fridge is broken,” she explains as she motions to the water and ice spigots on the front of the appliance.
“Are you hungry? Sorry, I was so shocked seeing you here I think I’ve lost all my manners,” she adds with a laugh.
“I could eat,” I admit as my stomach growls as if answering her question.
She laughs. “Uh, what do movie stars eat?” she asks as she looks around her kitchen.
I look at a bowl of fruit on her counter. “You got any peanut butter that I can eat with that apple?”
“You have come to the right place,” she replies as she opens a pantry door. “Chunky, smooth, organic, or no sugar added?”
“Wow! Quite the selection. I hadn’t pegged you as a connoisseur. I’ll take the no sugar added,” I answer. She brings me the apple, a knife, and the jar of peanut butter along with a glass of water.
Sitting down, she watches as I cut up the apple and slather the peanut butter on each piece. “So, Tate, any particular reason you’ve shown up at my doorstep with no plans for a hotel room on a random Sunday night? I mean, your agent talking to mine about a contract would have sufficed,” she asks.
I pause mid-bite and try to figure out how to explain my rash decision. I finish chewing to give myself a moment. And in the end, I decide honesty is the best policy.
“Sorry about that. I…” I pause as I swallow back a sudden rush of feelings. Sophia’s hand darts out and squeezes mine as if sensing that I’m upset. I look into her eyes. “I may have had a little unfortunate outburst in public this week.” I stop and she gives me a knowing look. “You already know that, huh?” She nods.
“I thought when Carol asked Marti for my address that maybe Lacey wanted a signed book,” she says as she watches me lather more peanut butter onto a second slice of apple.
“We broke up,” I confess before I can even think about it. Fuck. I probably shouldn’t have told her that. I need to keep my shit together.
Her eyes widen. “You did? Like, this week?” she asks, her voice rising an octave.
I look down at the plate and shake my head. “No, months ago. We’ve been keeping it quiet until some projects wrapped up, so we weren’t swarmed by paparazzi,” I explain. I have no idea why I’m telling her all of this. I met this woman hours ago and here I am spilling my secrets to her. There’s just something about her. From the moment I met her, I felt as if I could trust her with anything. It’s a foreign feeling, but a good one. It just feels nice to talk to anyone. I haven’t even spoken much about this to the guys yet. Rex would definitely tell me I’ve lost my mind sitting here in this woman’s house telling her about my breakup.
Her hand squeezes mine again. “I’m sorry to hear that, Tate,” she offers. “Is there no chance that you’ll get back together?”
I finish the last slice of apple as I contemplate her question. “No, I don’t think so,” I say sadly.
“Maybe if you could just talk to her,” she suggests.
“Sort of impossible right now,” I explain. “She’s filming in this little town in Montana. She won’t be done for another month.”
“You could go to her?” Sophia says.
Or I could stay right here. “I don’t know,” I mutter as I get up and bring my empty plate and glass to the sink.
“Oh, I got that,” she insists as she reaches for the plate.
“No, sit down, Sophia. You’ve had a long day. Let me do this. Are they dirty?” I ask as I point to her dishwasher. She nods and I go about putting the dishes in it.
She yawns. “Point me in the direction of the playroom and I’ll let you get to bed,” I say as I walk back toward her.
“Sorry. I’ve been trying to get the kids ready to go to Mark’s house, my ex. It’ll quiet down after they leave tomorrow,” she explains. “Come on, it’s this way.” She stands and opens a door to a staircase, and I follow her down into a playroom.
She opens a cupboard and pulls out some sheets, a blanket, a pillow, and a towel. “The bathroom is in there. And you can open the sofa bed by pulling it here,” she adds, motioning toward a tab under the cushion.
“Thank you. I really appreciate all of this,” I say as I motion around us.
She laughs. “Right, like, the Barbie house or the Legos?” she asks as she points to some of the toys sitting out on the floor.
“Well, at least I have something to do if I get bored,” I tease.
She grins. “Tate Anders, you are most unexpected,” she says as she heads toward the stairs.
“I hope in a good way,” I say.
She pauses with her hand on the railing. “I think so,” she says with a laugh as she bids me goodnight, leaving me sitting on the sofa bed surrounded by dolls. I look down at one.
“I didn’t make a mistake by coming here, did I?” I ask it. “I sure as hell hope not.”