Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zander
The scene is perfect. The crew has outdone themselves.
Fairy lights are strung on low branches around the lake.
A canoe sits halfway in the water, like something out of The Notebook.
A blanket is spread out with grapes and champagne glasses.
Even the sun is cooperating and hanging low in the sky, giving us purple and pink streaks in the sky.
Every element is completely ready and staged for this to be a picture-perfect scene.
But it all feels wrong.
The woman standing across from me is wrong.
Zara Sloan is gorgeous—there’s no argument there.
Any man would love to be with her. Her long, dark hair, skin that looks airbrushed to perfection, even her laugh.
She’s got flirty smiles, leaning just close enough for the camera to catch the suggestion.
She tosses her hair back like a perfect perfume ad.
And I hate every second of it.
I hate this fake, manufactured version of love. The fact that a music video romance is built out of camera angles and stage directions. There’s nothing authentic about it.
I hold Zara in my arms at the edge of the dock. And all I can see—all I can wish—is that it was Romy.
The co-director calls, “Closer, Zander. Look like you want her.”
I grit my teeth. I’ve done lots of music videos.
Usually, they’re heartbreak songs. This one is supposed to be about hope.
But tonight, I can’t flip the switch. I can’t see Zara as somebody fictional, because I feel as though this is Romy’s ranch, Romy’s spot.
Like I, somehow, am Romy’s, even if I’m not.
Still, I tilt closer to Zara to get this over with. My stomach twists. I think Zara notices my stiff posture and inability to play the part I need to.
Once upon a time, rumors spread that we were dating after we were seen on a red carpet together.
We hung out one night, and suddenly people claimed we had an affair for six months.
It never happened. We talked once or twice, realized we wanted different things, and went our separate ways.
She’s really nice, though. Beau was the one who thought she was perfect for the part, so I made the call and asked her.
“Hold it,” the co-director calls. “Zara, I want you to laugh. Zander, pick her up. Zara, wrap your legs around him.”
I go through the motions. Pick her up. Hold her gaze. Rock my head back in laughter.
Finally, my co-director yells, “Cut!”
“Well, that was fun,” Zara says as she lowers herself from me. There’s sarcasm in her voice, and I don’t blame her. I wasn’t into it, and I’m sure she felt it, which makes her job ten times harder.
I glance toward the edge of the set where Romy was watching earlier. Yesterday, something was wrong. I don’t know if she’s mad about the kiss. I don’t know anything anymore, and it’s pissing me off. My head is a fucking mess.
I head over to Beau, who’s behind the monitor, talking to the cameraman.
“Where’s Romy?”
Beau shrugs. “I don’t know. Haven’t seen her in a while.” He turns his attention back to what he was doing.
“That’s not an answer.”
With a sigh, he turns to face me. “I don’t know, man. Maybe she went to deal with something for her cousin’s wedding. She’s been juggling both events.”
A niggling feeling stabs like the twist of a knife between my ribs. I have the bad feeling she’s upset after seeing me with Zara. I’ve heard the crew and Jack saying how great we are together. I should have addressed this yesterday.
I’m a fucking idiot.
“You fucked up, didn’t you?” Beau asks, walking us away from the cameras.
“I think so.”
“This is why you get the paperwork.” He glares at me.
“Fuck the paperwork.” I stalk off and slide into the first UTV with keys inside.
“What the hell, Zander? We might need reshoots. You haven’t even looked at the tape yet.”
“You got the take. It’s fine. Jack, you good?” I shout to the co-director.
Jack gives me a thumbs-up. “We’re good.”
“See, Beau?”
He blows out a breath in frustration. He thinks I don’t know what I want, but I do. I’ve just been too chickenshit to go after it until now.
I check The Knotted Barn, and Romy’s not there. She’s not at The Getaway Lodge either. Finally, I knock on her door at the house. As I’m walking down the porch steps, trying to figure out where else Romy might be, a yellow Jeep with giant daisies on it pulls up.
Great, this is not what I want to deal with right now.
Poppy climbs out of the Jeep. “Hey, Mr. Country Superstar. What’s up?”
“Do you know where she is?”
She sighs as if I just ruined her night. “All right, you’ll probably only hear this once from me, so pay attention. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Romy was pregnant. I get it now, and it’s a little endearing, I suppose. But don’t treat her like a baby bird who needs you to survive, okay?”
“So, you don’t hate me anymore?” I raise my eyebrows.
Poppy rolls her eyes. “She’s at Uncle Bruce’s, helping with Ben and Gillian’s wedding. She’s putting the arch up today.”
I jog toward the UTV. “Is this your way of making up for hating me, Poppy?”
“Maybe. But I’ll tell you this, Zander Shaw. If you fuck with her emotions, you’ll have me to answer to. So before you drive off, I suggest you know what the hell you want.”
“Believe me, I do. You don’t need to worry, Poppy.”
“I hope so. I’d hate to kick your ass and get arrested for breaking your nose.”
I point at my nose. “That’s all right. It’s been broken twice before.”
“Yeah, it looks a little crooked,” she says.
I floor the gas pedal, speeding down the path toward Romy’s Uncle Bruce’s place.
When I get there, Romy’s in the yard in front of the arch, standing on a step stool—which she knows will piss me off. She’s putting up the flowers for Ben and Gillian’s wedding that’s in two days.
“Romy.”
She doesn’t look at me, attaching flowers to the arch.
“Romy,” I say again, walking closer.
She finally glances over her shoulder and pops out her AirPods. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. What are you doing here?”
“Why did you leave the set again?”
“Everything looked great. You and Zara—chemistry for days. You didn’t need my help or opinion.”
I step closer. The distance between us suddenly feels unbearable. My voice drops low. “You know it’s just a video. It’s not real.”
“Yeah, I know.” But she looks away from me.
I laugh bitterly. “Doesn’t seem like you know.”
Her jaw tightens. “I don’t know what you want from me, Zander. I have to get this done for Ben and Gillian. I know you’re used to things revolving around you, but this time, it doesn’t.” She bends to get more flowers to attach.
“Goddamn it. Do you think I want her? You think I’d rather roll around on a blanket with her than you?”
With glassy eyes, she whispers, “Just let it go.”
My patience snaps, and everything I’m holding in feels primed to break through. “Christ, Romy, don’t you get it?”
She whips around and throws her arms in the air. “What am I supposed to get, Zander?”
“That I fucking want you. That I made a huge mistake ghosting you. I only did it because… fuck, Romy, you scare me. You scare the shit out of me.” My voice raises, and I hate myself for allowing my emotions to be so uncontrolled.
She steps off the stool to square off with me.
“And what, you think I’m not scared? You think I’m such a believer in true love and fate and kismet that what I felt when I was with you didn’t scare me?
It did, Zander. I signed your stupid NDA.
I hid us from my family. I did that because I believed in us and what I felt.
Maybe some people would say I was na?ve, but they weren’t on that bus with you.
You’re the one who didn’t believe in us. Who still doesn’t believe in us.”
Chest tight, I inch closer. “I was an idiot.”
“Yeah, you were.”
I take the flower in her hand and drop it in the bucket of water. “And now? What do you want?”
She scoffs. “God, if you think I’m going to say it, you’re a fool.”
“Come on, Romy. Trust me. I swear you can trust me.”
She crosses her arms, cheeks red. “You first.”
I blow out a breath. “Fine. You were the first woman I ever thought about having more with, and it scared the shit out of me. I’ve never felt deserving of love like that.
Never thought I would know how to hold onto it.
So, I pushed you away. I told DeSoto not to let you through.
I figured you’d go away, forget about me and find the right guy, settle here, and have kids. Live happily ever after.”
“Why do you think you know more than me? Don’t you see the problem with that?”
“What’s the problem?”
“I don’t want anybody else.”
Her words send a rush of adrenaline through my veins, and I can’t get her in my arms fast enough.
I lean forward to kiss her, but she places her finger on my lips.
“But, Zander, I can’t be your toy. You can’t play with me when you want and set me on the shelf when you’re done and think I’ll be there the next time you’re interested.
” She places her hands on either side of my face.
“I know you struggle with your demons, but I want to be the one who proves to you that you’re worthy of love.
But in order to do that, you have to promise not to run off or push away when you’re feeling overwhelmed. If you can’t do that, this won’t work.”
I stare into her brown eyes, eyes that haunted me the entire time we were apart.
“Goddamn it, you’re not a toy, Romy.” I grip her waist tighter. “You’re everything. I’m trying my hardest to tell myself I deserve you. I want you. I want us. I want to try. But I don’t know how to be a boyfriend. I don’t know how to be—”
“Well, you’re not going to learn by pushing everyone away, Zander. Letting me in is your first lesson. You have to try.” Her hands don’t leave me, and her eyes don’t waver. “I need you to promise before I can even entertain this.”
I swallow past the baseball-sized lump in my throat. She’s right. I know she is. And even though the ghosts of my past are trying to scare me off, I’ll try. “For you, I promise, I’ll try. Only ever for you.”
“Okay,” she says as if I just asked her to go for coffee.
“Can I kiss you?” I inch closer.
“You sure as hell better.”
“Fuck, Romy, c’mere.” I wrap my arms around her waist and tug her to me, my lips crashing to hers.