Chapter 36
TOP SECRET
RIPLEY
A few days later, as I’m working on the back deck and reviewing orders from plant shops in the area that carry our flowers, a voice whispers, “Psst.”
It’s Haven, and I set the laptop down and head to the railing.
She’s been shooting here all day at the farm, and there’s clearly a break right now.
Most of the crew is near the rows of Impress Purple and the white bench at the top of the path.
New Chris and Haven have been talking on the bench in an important scene since all Very Important Conversations are had on benches.
“What’s going on?”
She glances around the vast lawn, checking for eavesdroppers before she mutters, “Check your texts.”
This is top-secret level. I spin around and grab my phone from the chair, clicking open her message sent five minutes ago.
Haven: Remember when we played that game with Linc Turner?
With curious eyes, I look up at my troublemaking sister, sensing where she’s going. Her eager smile gives her away. I tap out a fast reply.
Ripley: You mean the one where I broke up with him for you because the asshole was a cheater?
The second her phone pings, she nods excitedly. “Yes.”
I growl. “Who hurt you and where is he?”
Shaking her head, she replies at the speed of light.
Haven: The opposite! Is there any chance you could, you know, leave my hotel in a sort of noticeable way tonight? So any photogs or fans will think I’ve left?
My jaw comes unhinged, and I mouth, “You naughty minx.”
If a shrug could say yes, I am, hers does. Without wasting a second, I write back.
Ripley: Does this mean you want to have a date with William at your hotel or out of your hotel?
Haven: Both, hopefully! We want to go to Duck Falls and do a bookstore blind date—it’s where you go to a bookshop and pick a book you think the other person will like.
Then have dinner someplace kind of quiet and out of the way.
He sent me flowers this morning to ask me if I wanted to go on a date with him.
That sounds fantastic. I smile so big as I meet her gaze, not even waiting to text back, instead asking quietly, “Are you going to go public?”
“It’s so early,” she says, a nervous smile twisting her lips. “But would it make it easier for you if I did?”
My brow pinches. “What? No! What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to go public so people know I’m not with Chris? Maybe then you won’t have to deal with all the trouble of having a bodyguard.”
I blanch for so many reasons. First, she and William have only gone on a few actual dates.
I don’t want to pressure her to go public to make my little life easier.
Plus, what if she and William don’t last long?
Then she’s having to acknowledge a breakup in the public eye.
Best they be solid before she does announce a relationship status.
Besides, the shoot’s over soon, and even if she soft-launched her romance tonight, I’d probably still need a bodyguard for the rest of the shoot given how Haven’s star has risen quickly over the last year.
I also really, really like having a bodyguard, it turns out.
I grab her wrist and squeeze it. “Nope. What I want, though, are all the details of your date with the hot Irish bookstore owner.”
“And you’ll get them,” she says.
Then Tabitha calls out, “Haven Addison.”
My sister rushes back to the set, waving to me as she goes.
That night, we prep for the full switcheroo, enlisting our bodyguards in it too, so we can sell the ruse to any photographers hanging around outside The BookHouse. Banks is off tonight, so one of his backups is covering me, a sturdy guy named Marcus who Banks knows from the Marines too.
“This might be all for nothing,” Haven says as we settle onto her bed to polish my nails. “Sometimes the press is here at the hotel. Sometimes random tourists are, and they take pics of me.”
“It’s definitely not for nothing. Did you see those set pics the other day?” The film’s PR department released more photos from the shoot.
“I did. It’s so surreal,” Haven says, then shifts again to the matter at hand. “You really don’t mind?”
I scoff. “Not only do I not mind, I insist. Because you’re never too old to play twin tricks.”
“Truth,” she says.
“And besides, Addison girls don’t cut corners.”
“We go all out.”
I paint my nails the same light-pink shade as hers, then grab one of her hoodies.
But even as we’re having a blast, a kernel of guilt wedges into my chest, like a stone in a shoe.
Haven’s been open with me about her budding romance.
Surely I could do the same about mine. We protect each other. We don’t reveal each other’s secrets.
On the hotel bed, as I flap my hands around to dry the polish, I weigh the possibility of telling her when her phone rings. She stretches across the mattress to grab it from the nightstand.
“Hi, Michelle,” she says.
Ah, it’s her agent.
“They do?”
A pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Of course I can do it.”
One more pause. This one is long and Haven nods with wide eyes, her smile growing bigger by the second.
As she listens, I flash back to the last time I was in a hotel.
Not with Haven, when I stopped by the other week.
But more than a month ago. The night I met Banks.
I picture opening the door of the room for our tryst and hoping it’d be him.
Then, I remember my embarrassment when the hotel clerk stood there with an envelope of rejection.
I can see the moment so clearly, but I don’t feel those emotions anymore.
The foolishness has vanished. The shame has faded away.
I’m no longer worried about my terrible track record with men and what that might mean.
I don’t see myself any more as the know-it-all, the too independent one, the pushy one, like I told Grandma I feared I was.
Sure, I am those things, but I’m okay with that, because I let Banks get to know the real me. He’s shown me who he is too. My whole heart softens as I think of him.
I want to tell Haven about this unexpected romance. I’m desperate to tell her. Maybe I can soon, since so much has changed over the last few weeks.
When the call ends, I shove away the memory and shelve the desire as Haven says, “First, The Madison Marlowe Show invited me as a guest when I return to LA.”
“The late-night talk show?” I squeak out. It’s become one of the most popular interview shows on-air.
“Yes, to talk about the movie and everything. Plus, there’s some interest in me for a lead on a TV show.”
I gasp. TV is the golden goose. “Tell me everything.”
She shares the details, telling me Vega is writing a script for TV and potentially wants to work with Haven again. When she’s done, there’s no time for me to confess my burgeoning romance. Maybe tomorrow. Or another day. “That’s awesome,” I say.
“I can’t wait to tell William tonight.”
“Maybe he can go down to LA for the appearance,” I suggest, since I’m helpful like that.
“You’re such an enabler.”
“I’m full of brilliant ideas.”
“Like this one,” she says, then hands me her purse since I suggested earlier that we trade bags. I give her mine. We swapped the contents earlier.
“And now, the pièce de résistance.” Grandly, with much fanfare, she hands me her pair of pink heart-shaped shades.
“Ooh, your signature accessory these days.” I put on the sunnies, pushing them through my hair so they act as a headband.
Then, it’s showtime.
I yank open the door, greeting the sturdy woman who protects my sister most of the time. “Hi, Wanda! How’s everything going?” I ask brightly, imitating Haven.
She blinks, shaking her head in amusement. “It’s eerie.”
“I know,” I say, pleased we’re so convincing.
She walks with me down the hall, then the steps, then into the lobby. From behind the desk, Bridget doesn’t even bat a lash. She simply smiles. “Do you need help with anything, Haven?”
I drum my fingers on the counter, talking a touch faster than I do usually, a bit peppier. “Is that arcade still open on Main Street?”
“The one we all used to go to in high school?”
“Yes. The retro arcade,” I say.
“It is.”
“Fabulous. I haven’t played Ms. Pac-Man in ages,” I say, naming Haven’s favorite game.
“Pretty sure you still have the high score.”
Well, Haven was excellent at that game. “Awesome,” I say, then turn around, but like I forgot something, I spin back. “What time is it?”
Bridget smiles kindly, clearly knowing Haven was always rubbish with time. “Seven ten.”
“Thanks, Bridge. Don’t wait up too late for me, but I’ll text you later.”
She looks momentarily confused, but I’ll explain it to her soon.
When I turn around, I say to Wanda, “Do you like arcade games? I have to show you this fun arcade in my hometown. It’s even better than the one in—” I stop, think, then take a wild guess: “Santa Monica.”
“That’s high praise.”
“I know,” I say, and we make a show of walking through the lobby. And I mean show. Because I want someone to see me act. I thought I’d hate it, but acting in my own body—so to speak—is surprisingly fun. I’m not me right now. I’m my sister, and I know what to do with my face. Smile. Shine. Beam.
Like Haven did when she faced her demons and took charge of her mental health. When she went to therapy and worked on herself. When she moved forward from grief and the chokehold it had on her.
Like that, I protect my sister as I walk out of the hotel, being the best bodyguard for her so her secret boyfriend can slip upstairs and see her.
“Damn, girl. You’re working it,” Wanda whispers proudly.
“Thank you.”
Yup. I’m pulling it off.
C’mon, photographers. Show up. Take my pic. I dare you.
I’m only mildly disappointed that there are no photographers waiting on the street. But I’m wildly happy when I spot William in a blue Prius, pulling around the side of the hotel to the back door.
I turn to go, having pulled it off when someone clears a throat from behind me. “Just the person I wanted to see.”
Oh, shit.