Chapter 29
GRACE
My phone started buzzing before six. I ignored it. It was likely someone in LA not remembering I was in Hawaii. I buried my head under the pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but the notifications kept coming.
I reached over, slapping at the damn thing to make it quiet. It stopped the assault for about two seconds. It made my nightstand sound like it was having a seizure.
“Dammit! Becky? Loretta? Mom? Dad? Leave me alone!”
They didn’t, which made me wonder if it was an actual emergency.
I groaned and reached for the phone, squinting at the screen through bleary eyes.
There were more than twenty text messages, but it was social media notifications blowing up my damn phone.
What the hell?
I scrolled through the chaos. Text messages from people I hadn’t talked to in months. Instagram notifications. Twitter mentions. Missed calls from numbers I didn’t recognize.
And then I saw Loretta’s name, all caps: CALL ME THE SECOND YOU WAKE UP.
My stomach dropped. Whatever was happening, it was big.
I opened Instagram first, my thumb moving on autopilot.
Chantilly’s face filled my screen immediately. Not really the first thing I wanted to see three seconds after I opened my eyes.
Her latest post had apparently broken the internet while I was sleeping, and since I kept getting tagged, it had to do with me.
“Great.”
I clicked on the video.
It started with the infamous parking lot photo. The one that had haunted me for weeks. There I was. Not me, but the other me. Chantilly locked in a passionate kiss with Jack. The image that had turned me into America’s most hated homewrecker.
Then the screen filled with screenshots of online reactions.
Comments calling me a slut. Tweets demanding I be fired. Headlines screaming about affairs and broken marriages. I felt my chest tighten, the familiar shame washing over me even though I knew none of it was true. I didn’t love the reputation.
And then Chantilly’s face appeared on the screen, her ring camera reflected in her pupils. Her makeup looked like she was ready to walk the red carpet.
And she was laughing. Her head thrown back, perfectly white teeth gleaming.
“It was me the whole time!” she announced, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
The video cut to security camera footage from what looked like a hotel parking garage.
Grainy but clear enough. A woman in a blonde wig—obviously Chantilly now that I knew what to look for—walking toward a man who was obviously Jack.
They embraced. They kissed. And then they walked off together, her wig slightly askew.
I sat up straighter, my heart pounding.
It was the big reveal. And no one thought to tell me?
Micah’s face filled the screen.
I nearly dropped my phone.
“Normally we try not to ruin the movie magic,” he said, that familiar half-smile playing at his lips. “But since this has gotten a little out of hand, here’s some behind-the-scenes footage you’re going to want to see.”
The video cut to set footage. There was Chantilly, sitting in the makeup chair while someone adjusted the blonde wig on her head. Micah’s voice continued over the images, calm and professional.
“For the kiss scene in Breathless, we used Chantilly as a stand-in. Jack Montana is a happily married man, and his wife was kind enough to step in so we could get the shot we needed without any awkwardness on set.”
More footage. Chantilly getting her makeup touched up. Chantilly walking to her mark. Chantilly and Jack canoodling in the corner while they waited for the shot to be set up.
Then Chantilly was back on screen, beaming.
“Thank you all so much for defending my honor,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart in mock sincerity. “I was so touched by everyone calling out what you thought was a dirty cheater. Your loyalty to the sanctity of marriage is truly inspiring.”
She reached off-screen and pulled Jack into frame. He looked slightly confused, like he’d just been woken up from a nap, but he rallied quickly.
“What can I say?” Jack shrugged, flashing that movie-star grin. “My wife is hot as a blonde.”
Chantilly giggled and kissed his cheek. The video ended with a link to Chantilly’s YouTube channel.
I sat there, phone in hand, completely stunned.
She’d flipped the entire narrative. Made herself the hero of her own story. The clever mastermind who’d played everyone.
And somehow she’d set me free.
I watched the video again, this time paying closer attention to the behind-the-scenes footage. The quality was professional. Someone had edited this carefully, splicing together multiple angles, adding Micah’s voiceover at exactly the right moments.
Micah.
He’d done this. He had to have. This had his fingerprints all over it. But why would Chantilly have it to post?
Only one way to find out.
I threw off the covers and scrambled to get dressed. My mind was racing, trying to piece together when this had happened, how I’d missed it. I didn’t understand why no one had given me a heads-up.
I was brushing my teeth when I got a video call from Becky. She had sent me six texts.
“Hi,” I answered, spitting out the toothpaste.
“What the hell?” she asked.
I glanced at the screen. She was on the elliptical.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just woke up.”
“Why didn’t you post that video?”
“Because I didn’t know it existed.”
“Are you going to repost it?”
I wiped my face. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Girl, you are trending,” she said. “At least this time it isn’t for anything bad. You are no longer a homewrecker.”
I laughed. “Yay me.”
“That Chantilly is quite the character,” she said.
“You have no idea.” I put my hair up in a loose bun. “I have to go. I need to go talk to that character and make sure she isn’t setting me up for another scandal. I don’t think I’ll survive it.”
Before I could leave the room, Loretta called. That was another frantic conversation, but she couldn’t be mad at me. I didn’t do it.
I grabbed my keycard and headed for the elevator. It seemed to take forever. I bounced on my heels, watching the floor numbers tick down with agonizing slowness.
When I finally reached Jack and Chantilly’s floor, I practically sprinted down the hallway. The presidential suite was at the end. I knocked. Waited. Knocked again.
The door swung open to reveal Chantilly in a silk robe, her hair wrapped in a towel, a green face mask covering her skin. She looked like a creature from a horror movie, but her eyes lit up when she saw me.
“Grace! Did you see it? Isn’t it amazing?”
“I saw it.” I stepped inside when she gestured me in. “Chantilly, I don’t even know what to say. Thank you. Seriously. Thank you so much.”
She waved a dismissive hand, leaving a streak of green goo on the door frame. “Oh, please. It was nothing. Actually, it was everything. My engagement is through the roof. I’m going to have a million followers by the end of the month.”
“That’s… wow.”
“I know, right?” She floated toward the living area. I followed, trying not to be overwhelmed by the amazing accommodations. Jack was nowhere to be seen, probably still sleeping off whatever hangover he’d earned last night.
“Nice room,” I said.
She waved a hand. “My suite in The Maldives was nicer.”
If there was ever a perfect couple, it was Chantilly and Jack. Two of the most shallow, vapid creatures I had ever met. They weren’t mean or even all that obnoxious. They were just—them.
“Well, I’m glad things are settling down,” I said.
“Oh, sweetie, they are not settling down. If they were, I was doing it wrong.”
“For me,” I corrected. “You’ve probably noticed I haven’t exactly been getting great publicity out of this. I was a little worried about going back to LA. Your fans are… loyal. Slightly feral.”
She giggled. “I know. I love it.”
“Why did you do it?” I asked.
“Everyone loves a plot twist. And I’m the one who delivered it. Me. Not some gossip blogger. I stole their thunder. I scooped them.”
“It was really smart,” I said. “The way you framed it. Making yourself the mastermind.”
Chantilly beamed, or at least I think she did. Hard to tell under the face mask. “That was Micah’s idea, actually.”
My heart stuttered. “Micah?”
“Oh, honey, the whole thing was his idea.” She settled onto the sofa, stretching her long legs out.
“He came to me yesterday. Said he wanted to set the record straight, but he knew I wouldn’t go for it unless there was something in it for me.
” She laughed, a surprisingly genuine sound. “Smart man. He knows how to negotiate.”
“He put together the video?”
“Him and that little assistant of his. Tony? Toby? Whatever. They had all this behind-the-scenes footage I didn’t even know existed. Micah did the voiceover himself. Edited the whole thing overnight, apparently.”
I sank into the nearest chair, my legs suddenly unsteady. “I had no idea.”
“I think he was worried his film was getting dragged down with a whoring leading lady,” Chantilly said as she examined her nails, seemingly bored with the conversation.
I clenched my teeth. “I wasn’t actually whoring.”
“Anyway, it worked out perfectly for everyone,” she said on a long sigh. “I get the credit, you get your reputation back, and the movie gets even more buzz. Win-win-win.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Win-win-win.”
I thanked her again, probably more times than necessary considering it had nothing to do with her. I had a feeling those details didn’t matter. She would be riding her little plot twist for at least another month.
I left the suite and debated what to do next. I had a couple hours before my call time. Things had been tense the last couple of days and I knew that was on me.
Did he blow the lid on our little secret because he thought that was why I’d been keeping my distance? If the studio had approved the reveal, Loretta would have called me.
This had to be Micah trying to save me. I hated it and loved it at the same time. My thoughts spun in circles that all led to the same place.
Micah.
He’d done this for me. Not for the movie, not for publicity, not for any of the reasons the studio would have cared about. He’d done it because he knew it was hurting me. He couldn’t stand watching me take the blame for something I didn’t do.
Because he cared.
I bypassed my floor entirely and hit the button for his. The elevator doors opened and I was moving before I could second-guess myself, my feet carrying me down the familiar hallway to his suite.
I thought about all the times he’d looked out for me. The way he’d coached me through my worst moments on set. The way he’d believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. He was a good man.
An impossible, wonderful, infuriating man.
I reached his door and raised my hand to knock.
Then I stopped.
What was I going to say? Thank you for saving my reputation? Thank you for being a good man and a great director?
We were supposed to be professionals, and we had been, but it wasn’t working. I couldn’t stay away from the guy.
I knocked and waited, imagining him still in bed, hair tousled and wearing nothing but his briefs.
Or maybe nothing at all.