Chapter 35
GRACE
Icouldn’t make myself do it. No way was I going to be able to fly back on the party plane and pretend all was well when I knew they would all be whispering about me.
The dress I bought a few days ago during some downtime hung on the back of the bathroom door.
It was flowy and tropical and showed off the tan I’d gotten over the last week of shooting beach scenes.
I knew there would be pictures posted to social media and I wanted to look good.
I bought the dress to wear to the wrap party I couldn’t go to.
The party had started an hour ago. Everyone was down there. Celebrating. Moving on. No way would I show my face. I couldn’t pretend to be okay. I was a good actor, but I wasn’t that good.
My suitcase sat open on the luggage rack, half-packed. I’d been throwing things in without really paying attention. The methodical packing I’d done on the way here felt impossible now. I didn’t have the energy for organization.
I pulled up the airline app on my phone and searched for flights to LA. There was one leaving in two hours. Red eye. I’d land at LAX around six in the morning, exhausted and jet-lagged and alone.
Perfect.
I booked it before I could talk myself out of it.
The original plan had been for the whole production to fly back together tomorrow on a chartered flight.
Another opportunity for bonding and celebrating and pretending everything was normal.
I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting on a plane with everyone who’d been whispering about me for the past twelve hours.
I didn’t want to deal with the pitying looks or the awkward silences or, worse, the fake friendliness from people who’d already made up their minds about who I was.
And him. I couldn’t be on a plane with him and not talk to him. If I said even two words to Micah, it would be twisted and reported back to some tabloid. Another source would exaggerate a two second interaction to us fucking in front of everyone.
I finished packing in a daze, shoving the rest of my clothes into the suitcase without folding them. The tropical dress was tossed on top.
I should tell Micah I was leaving. He deserved to know, if not as a woman he’d been sleeping with, then as his leading lady. I owed him at least a goodbye.
But what would I say?
I didn’t have the words. And I didn’t want to give anyone else a reason to talk about my private business.
If I went down to that party and pulled Micah aside for some tearful farewell, it would just add fuel to the fire.
More fodder for the gossip mills. Evidence that there was something scandalous going on between us.
There would surely be some pictures to back up the claim.
Better to just disappear. Let him enjoy his celebration and have this moment without me dragging it down.
I called for a car and wheeled my suitcase to the elevator, leaving my keycard on the nightstand. The lobby was mercifully empty. Everyone who mattered was at the party. I walked through the sliding doors and into the humid night air, feeling like a convict escaping.
The car arrived within minutes. I climbed into the back seat and watched the hotel shrink in the rearview mirror until it disappeared completely.
Goodbye, paradise.
The airport was quiet at this hour. I moved through security on autopilot.
The gate was nearly empty when I found it, just a handful of other travelers scattered across the plastic seats, all of them absorbed in their phones or their books or their own private miseries.
I had a baseball cap on. It wasn’t an actual disguise, but just in case people had interrupted their vacations with social media scrolling, I didn’t want to be too obvious.
I found a seat near the window and pulled out my phone. I shouldn’t look. But I couldn’t help myself.
Instagram was already flooded with photos from the wrap party. Crew members posing with tropical drinks. The pig roast in all its glory. Tiki torches and sunset skies and everyone looking so damn happy.
I scrolled past them, my chest aching. I wanted to be there celebrating what I was convinced was a beautiful movie.
And then I saw it. A photo someone had posted of the dance floor. Couples swaying under string lights, the ocean in the background. It was beautiful and people looked like they were having a blast. Everything a wrap party should be.
It made me think of the first wrap party. The one in LA, after we’d finished the soundstage work. I remembered dancing with Micah, the way he’d pulled me close when he thought no one was watching. We’d laughed at nothing, drunk on champagne and the thrill of getting away with something forbidden.
That night had felt like the beginning of something. Now I was leaving with my tail between my legs, and I hadn’t even said goodbye.
The boarding announcement crackled over the speakers.
I gathered my things and joined the line, shuffling forward with the other passengers while keeping my eyes down.
When I finally settled into my seat, a window near the back of the plane, I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and watched the ground crew move around in the darkness below.
I tried not to think about everything I was leaving behind. Eventually, exhaustion won out and I drifted into a fitful sleep. When I woke up, we were descending into LA.
I texted Becky from the tarmac. She’d offered to pick me up when I texted her after booking the flight. She didn’t ask why I was returning early. She had social media. She’d know.
I made my way to baggage claim, grabbed my suitcase, and wheeled it out to the pickup area. Becky’s car pulled up. Not wanting to risk anyone noticing, I tossed my suitcase in the back and jumped in the front seat, keeping my hat low.
“You look like hell,” she said, pulling away from the curb. “When’s the last time you slept? Actually slept?”
“On the plane. A little.”
“That doesn’t count.”
I closed my eyes and let Becky navigate the traffic.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked after a few minutes.
“Not really.”
“Okay.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “We don’t have to talk. I’m just glad you’re home.”
We drove in silence for a while. Becky put on some music. I watched the familiar streets roll by, the coffee shops and yoga studios and overpriced boutiques that made up my neighborhood. Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a notification from one of the social media apps. Jack Montana had posted a live video and tagged me.
Jack was clearly buzzed, grinning like a fool. He had an arm draped over Micah’s shoulders, pulling him into the frame. Micah looked uncomfortable, that camera-shy expression I’d seen him wear whenever someone pointed a lens in his direction. He was far more comfortable behind the camera.
“There he is!” Jack bellowed at the phone. “The man himself! Micah Blackwell, everybody! Best director I’ve ever worked with, and I’ve worked with a lot of directors. A lot.”
Micah rolled his eyes but smiled. That half-smile that always made my heart skip.
“This movie is going to blow your minds,” Jack continued, speaking directly to his followers now.
“I’m telling you. Heart, drama, more heat with the sexy Grace Stone.
We’ve got it all. And never fear.” He paused for dramatic effect, waggling his eyebrows.
“I take my shirt off at least ten times. You won’t cut any of that, right, Micah? ”
Micah laughed. “You have my word.”
I sighed, feeling something twist in my chest. I loved the sound of his laugh. I’d heard it so many times over the past few weeks, usually when we were alone and he let his guard down.
Now I was hearing it from thousands of miles away.
“You okay?” Becky asked, glancing over.
I realized I’d been staring at my phone with tears streaming down my face. I quickly wiped them away and shoved the phone back in my pocket.
“Fine. Just tired.”
She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push.
“Please tell me you haven’t been doomscrolling,” I said.
She laughed. “Nope. I know the truth. All the bullshit out there is just that. I don’t need to read rumors reported by an anonymous source. I know the source.”
“Thank you.”
“It was Chantilly, right?”
“Yep. Although I’m still not sure if it was intention or malicious. Her husband is an idiot. Again, not malicious—just oblivious.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I believe it. But damn, those abs. I know who his trainer is. That guy’s workout plan is intense.”
“I’ve seen more than enough of Jack’s abs to last me a lifetime,” I said with a shake of my head. “They had him so greased up, the glare nearly blinded me.”
She laughed. “I bet that was one hell of a sight.”
We pulled up to my apartment building a few minutes later. Becky parked and turned to face me.
“I can stay,” she said. “I don’t have any clients until this afternoon. We can order breakfast, watch trashy TV, not talk about anything important. Whatever you need.”
I shook my head. “I want to be alone.”
“Grace, is that a good idea?”
I forced a smile that probably looked as fake as it felt. “I just need to sleep. Real sleep. In my own bed. I’ll call you later, okay?”
She was clearly weighing whether to argue. Finally, she sighed and nodded.
“Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything. Three in the morning, I don’t care. I’ll be there.”
“I know.” I leaned over and hugged her. “Thank you for picking me up.”
“That’s what best friends are for.”
I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and waved as she pulled away. Then I turned and walked into my building, dragging my luggage behind me like it weighed a thousand pounds. I unlocked my door and stepped inside.
The apartment was exactly as I’d left it. Evidence of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now. I was a different woman. I closed the door behind me and stood there in the silence. It was so quiet.
I’d wanted to be alone. I’d told Becky I needed space.
But standing there in my empty apartment, surrounded by the ghost of who I’d been before Hawaii and Micah, I realized I’d made a mistake.
The silence was suffocating.
I should have asked Becky to stay. Instead, I was alone with nothing but my thoughts and a phone that would not stop lighting up with notifications. If I unfollowed Jack or the page the studio set up for the film, that would make yet another headline.
I silenced the notifications, but when I got tagged by friends, it alerted me.
I left my suitcase by the door and walked to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions without bothering to change out of my travel clothes. I pulled the throw blanket over myself and curled into a ball. I thought about texting Becky. But the effort seemed insurmountable.