26. Reese
Chapter 26
Reese
September 19th
Langford Reveals All: The Real Story Behind Robyn Hood and Sinclair’s Nightmare Behavior
The Louisiana sun beats down as I relax on Mama’s wraparound porch, the humidity shimmering above the pool. The same pool that terrified me as a child now feels like another part of home, like the gardenias Mama tends to obsessively in her wide-brimmed hat.
My phone buzzes against the wrought iron table, making the mason jar of tea wobble, ice clinking against the glass.
It’s an email with Amara’s contract.
I open up my text thread with Dante.
Reese
OH MY GOODNESS
Amara’s team sent over the contract! We start filming next week!
Thank you for making this happen.
Dante
Don’t sell yourself short. Mari practically swooned for you.
Reese
Still processing this!
I find myself daydreaming about him here, sprawled across Mama’s precious white wicker furniture like some sort of beautiful catastrophe. His tattoos, rings shinning under the sunlight. Those eyes of his, gold and knowing, would stir up the neighborhood ladies for the rest of the year. And oh, the way the scent of his skin would drift through the humid Louisiana air, making Mama reach for her smelling salts, sneaking glances over her monogrammed fan like a schoolgirl with a secret.
He’d be like an ink stain on a pristine tablecloth. Deliciously out of place.
“Baby,” Mama says, easing into her rocking chair with a glass of sweet tea. Her ice cubes dance against crystal like wind chimes. “You’ve been making eyes at that phone like it’s whispering sweet nothings. Your daddy’s going to start to fret.”
My parents have been playing the role of proud hosts, feeding me until my sundress protests and parading me around the neighborhood, sweetly bragging about their daughter, the executive producer.
“Work stuff,” I mumble. But my cheeks betray me, blooming pink under Mama’s knowing stare.
“Sugar, did you forget I raised you? That smile you’re wearing? Ain’t about no business deal.”
“It absolutely is!”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums, fanning herself. “I suppose those magazine spreads I’ve been seeing are just business too? That cover of the Stone Times at a certain beach?”
Her look reminds me of being fifteen, caught writing Tom Hardy’s name in loopy cursive across my diary after I watched a Wuthering Heights miniseries. Some things are constant, it seems, like my weakness for complicated men with good hearts.
Maybe I should’ve seen my antihero thing coming a mile away.
“The tabloids love their drama,” I say primly, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from my dress.
Right on cue, Aunt Mabel sweeps onto the porch like a floral-printed hurricane, fresh from helping Daddy with barbecue prep. “Are we finally discussing that fine specimen of a man? I saw a picture of y’all on set—those tattoos! Nearly baptized my phone with my potato salad!”
“We’re colleagues,” I explain. “The director quit, so we’ve got this whole PR plan coming up, to evolve my image in the press. And, yes, Dante is a part of that, but that’s it!”
“That Felix was trouble walking. Thank the Lord he never met your daddy.”
Mabel claims another rocker, leaning in like we’re trading secrets at a church social. “Speaking of your daddy, isn’t it time you thought about settling down? Building something real? Don’t let this one slip away. Those arms alone are worth a marriage license!”
“Aunt Mabel!” I protest, but laughter bubbles up anyway.
Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about Dante with Em, the way his sharp edges soften when he talks about her, even when he pretends she gets under his skin. It’s disarming, really, how naturally tenderness comes to him. I let myself imagine our hypothetical babies—a little girl with his easy smile, a boy with my contemplative brown eyes. “Things move differently in Hollywood,” I whisper. “No one’s rushing to have babies over there. People take their time. Besides, Dante and I are not having—”
“Time!” Aunt Mabel waves her paper plate at me. “I had two babies by your age. Your biological clock isn’t turning back any further, Miss Hollywood.”
Daddy materializes in the doorway wearing his Kiss the Cook apron, burger patties balanced carefully on a plate. “Babies?” The word catches in his throat, but his stern expression melts when he sees my face.
“No babies!” I insist.
“Well,” Daddy considers, “any man who puts a smile on my baby girl’s face can’t be all bad. Even with those decorations , as Auntie Heather calls them. At least he’s not one of those Hollywood pretty boys afraid of honest work. A real athlete—that’s something!”
I’ll need to have a strong talk with Heather about not always keeping my parents in the loop.
Mama fans herself, feigning distress. “Yes, those swords! Though I must say, the Esquire spread…” She trails off, a hint of appreciation coloring her mock outrage. “It did give me heart palpitations. That mask!”
“Heaven help us.” Aunt Mabel grins, settling deeper into her chair. “Tell me fighting isn’t the only thing he’s skilled at. Does he at least know how to peel crawfish properly?”
“He hasn’t learned yet, but he’s a quick study. You’d love teaching him.”
“Well then, sugar, tell that man of yours he’s welcome anytime,” Daddy says, heading back to his grill. “Just leave the swords in California. And fair warning: I’ll be grilling him harder than these burgers. Speaking of which, these patties won’t cook themselves.”
Mama rolls her eyes fondly as Aunt Mabel fusses over him. The oldest sister, always mothering. My phone chimes again, and I attempt a serious face so I don’t give anything away.
Dante
How’s the family reunion going? Has your mother stuffed you with beignets yet?
Reese
She’s been drowning me in gumbo with potato salad, cornbread, AND red beans and rice. We’re prepping for a whole family barbecue now.
Dante
How wholesome. Be sure to keep your protein intake up for all that muscle we’re building.
Reese
Speaking of which, did your coach agree to a new training schedule for you this week?
Dante
Yes, but I’m babysitting his youth program MWF in return. I thought Em was bad. The rest of these kids are the actual antichrist.
Reese
You’re such a good boy.
Dante
There you go with the praise again. The jet is fueled and ready. I could be in NOLA by dinner.
The ceiling fan whirs overhead, and I count the blades spinning, trying to ground myself against his tempting offer. These kinds of thoughts drift like magnolia petals in summer wind. Decidedly unprofessional, definitely not strategic. I’ve never brought a man home before, not even Ricky. When Mama visited California, she chaperoned us with the diligence of a Victorian governess.
Would they see what I see beneath his carefully cultivated danger—the gentle soul who anticipates my needs before I voice them, who drapes his hoodie over my shoulders against the evening chill without a word?
The thought of him here makes my heart flutter. Watching him tackle his first crawfish with adorable determination, too proud to ask for help but yearning for approval all the same.
I let myself sink deeper into this daydream.
Reese
As much as I’d love to give my whole family enough gossip to last til next Christmas, my parents have my whole week planned out.
Dante
Come on, I bet you never had a boy climb through your window. First time for everything?
Could be the perfect first article to welcome your image evolution.
Reese
Missing me that much?
Dante
Desperately.
Reese
Weren’t you the one preaching about the virtues of celibacy?
Six more days won’t harm you.
Dante
You’re cruel, Miss Sinclair.
A few feet away, Aunt Mabel and Daddy are fussing over the grill placement Their voices carry across the yard as I look toward the pool, memories washing over me like waves.
“Maybe we could go for a swim later?” I suggest, watching the sunlight dance on the water.
“Here?” Mama asks, raising an eyebrow as she pauses her fan-waving. “The backyard pool’s been off-limits since…well, you know.”
“Lord, remember when she fell in?” Aunt Mabel calls over. “Nearly gave us all heart attacks!”
I lean over and kiss Mama on the cheek, noticing that I’m getting the same wrinkle she has right along her smile line. How lucky am I? “Yeah. Maybe we’ll start with hanging our feet in the pool.”
“I’d love that!” Mama bounces up, clapping with delight, her face glowing. “Let me find you a suitable swimsuit. And none of those California strings you call bikinis!”
Daddy mutters something about dress codes and respectability as Mama hurries inside. Aunt Mabel winks at me before turning back to critique my father’s grilling technique.
While they’re distracted, my phone buzzes with another article about Felix. I can’t wait to get back to LA and change the narrative.
But even more, I can’t wait to get back to Dante.
With everyone occupied, I pull up the camera app. It’s golden hour and my skin is cast in a bronze glow. I let the ruffle strap of my sundress slip ever so slightly off my shoulder and capture the perfect angle where sunlight kisses skin. I send it to Dante.
Dante
You’re making it difficult to focus on these insufferable children and their swords.
Reese
It’s a shoulder.
Dante
Your shoulder has a freckle I’ve never noticed before. I’m getting hard looking at it.
Reese
Very naughty, Mr. Hastings.