Chapter 43
Ava
“Today was hell.”
The only reason I say this to Sienna is because, well… she asked.
And I immediately regret it.
“Sorry,” I add quickly. “Didn’t mean to use my outside voice. It’s the role of a lifetime. I shouldn’t complain.”
Sienna nearly chokes on her noodles.
“Oh, my God. Absolutely complain.” She points chopsticks at me through the FaceTime screen. “I’m not just your manager. I’m your confidant who demands total honesty so I know exactly who’s done you wrong and whether or not I need to cut a bitch.”
I laugh out loud for the first time all day. “You’d do that for me?”
“Ava, with the amount of people constantly trying to screw over the people I care about, I don’t even need a reason anymore. Just point.”
She shovels another bite of Chinese food into her mouth while I stare at my own dinner with deep personal regret.
Tonight I decided to immerse myself in Icelandic culture, which currently means fermented shark and something beige that tastes like salt and despair.
Sienna pauses mid-chew. “Why does your dinner look haunted?”
“Because I think it died angry.” I stab at the beige lump again. “Honestly, I’d kill for dried Cup Noodles right now.”
“Done.” She points chopsticks at me again. “I’m overnighting you a Chase Care Package.”
“What’s in a Chase Care Package?”
“Cup Noodles, Little Debbie Cosmic Brownies, a Sahale mixed nut sampler, and enough Red Bull to legally stop your heart.”
I blink at her. “I love you.”
“I know.” She pops another dumpling into her mouth. “Go on. You were saying something about production hell?”
I groan dramatically and sink lower against the pillows.
“The wind machines malfunctioned during an exterior scene and nearly launched me straight into the Atlantic.”
Sienna immediately scribbles something onto her tablet. “Note to self. Get Ava a stunt double.”
“Then my costar botched half his lines and threw a whiny little tantrum, spilled an oat milk latte all over me.” I pause. “And one of Princess Luna’s custom gowns.”
Sienna gasps in horror.
“The Valentino duchess satin one?”
“Exactly.”
Sienna immediately scribbles another note onto her tablet. “Add one emotional support parka.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Actually, scratch that. Send one llama.”
“Don’t llamas spit?”
“Be the celebrity you are, Ava,” she says dryly. “Do you want organic free-range warmth or not?”
With a laugh, I abandon the haunted beige sludge and reach for the only trustworthy thing left in life.
Thankfully, Iceland believes in Coca-Cola.
I take a long sip of sweet, caffeinated salvation and continue.
“By the time filming wrapped, I was fully prepared to throw myself in front of a volcanic glacier and let nature reclaim me.”
Sienna clasps her hands together.
“Please have someone film it for TikTok,” she says earnestly. “If you’re going to perish dramatically in Iceland, let’s at least die with boosted engagement.”
I snort and pretend to consider it.
“I’ll need glam,” I say thoughtfully.
“Hell yeah. Teamwork makes the dream work.”
Laughing softly, I glance toward the windows where darkness presses up against the glass.
The fireplace crackles beside me, and somehow Iceland feels equal parts Wuthering Heights and pitch-black Dune.
I burrow deeper beneath the oversized throw blanket and turn the monitor so she sees the window.
“Do you know how much sunlight I get here? Like… four hours a day. Why couldn’t the location scouts pick Hawaii?”
Sienna slurps another noodle. “Good news. Your skin’s about to look unbelievable.”
“Awesome,” I deadpan. “At least I’ve got that spa reservation you gave me. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.”
Sienna pauses mid-chew.
“What spa reservation?”
I blink.
“The geothermal one?”
Genuine confusion crosses her face. “Ava, I didn’t book you a spa reservation.”
I frown. “You didn’t?”
“No. Though I could.” She gives me a sweet little shrug. “But only if you swear not to tell Chase or he’ll start demanding geothermal emotional support too.”
Okay.
If it wasn’t Sienna… and it wasn’t the hotel…
then who the hell—
“Break time’s over.” Sienna sets down her Chinese takeout container and steeples two fingers at me, instantly shifting back into full powerhouse-executive mode. “Work time.”
“All work and no play makes Ava a dull girl,” I tease, doing my best creepy The Shining voice.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Then she suddenly holds something up to the camera.
“Does this look familiar?”
One of my handmade bookbags fills the screen.
My smile comes instantly.
Bright colorful stitching wraps around the edges, and a giant red dog stretches across the front pocket, floppy ears and all.
The Velcro-backed book patch gives it away instantly.
My entire face softens.
“I made that for one of Jess and Mark’s foster daughters,” I say immediately. “Her favorite book is Clifford the Big Red Dog.”
Sienna blinks.
“You made this? Like… with your actual hands?”
I laugh. “No, with my feet.”
She snorts.
“I make them all the time. Pretty much every kid I meet ends up getting one eventually.”
My fingers brush over the screen as I point toward the patches.
“Those patches are interchangeable. The Velcro lets the kids swap them out depending on whatever book they’re obsessed with that week.”
Sienna stares at the bag another second before looking back at me like she’s already calculating ten business deals at once.
“Okay, first of all, that’s disgustingly adorable.”
I laugh. “Thank you?”
“Second,” she says, suddenly serious again, “you need to figure out branding immediately because a children’s literacy nonprofit just reached out wanting to collaborate with you.”
My stomach drops.
“Wait. Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She points her chopsticks at me. “Your Princess Luna fame is exploding. Time to diversify.”
She starts counting on her fingers.
“Rihanna and Fenty. Eva Longoria and Siete Foods. Celebrities are basically corporations now.”
“Wow,” I deadpan. “You really are worth your management fee.”
Sienna flips her hair dramatically.
“Amen, sister.”
A second later her phone buzzes loudly against the table.
She glances down and immediately shuts her eyes.
“Oh, for the love of—”
I laugh. “What now? Another international underwear emergency?”
Sienna flashes her phone at me for half a second.
“Chase has just gone live on Instagram shirtless in Milan, slurping pasta while making passionate love to the camera.”
I squint at the screen. “Jesus. He’s already got like ten thousand likes.”
Sienna closes her eyes briefly. “Another viral manwhore moment brought to you by The Real Chase Cartwright.”
“Doesn’t he realize he’s interrupting our quality time?”
She sighs dramatically.
“It’s the burden of being indispensable.”
She points at me through the screen. “T-minus five weeks before you’re back in the States.”
I groan and sink farther beneath the blanket.
“I’m only home for a week before returning to the Icelandic tundra.”
“Then we’ll make the most of it.” She smiles warmly. “Now go enjoy your mysterious spa experience for me. And promise me you’ll relax.”
“I promise to try.”
“Try?” Sienna narrows her eyes. “Ava, it’s a volcanic hot spring, not parkour training. Relax voluntarily or I’m overnighting you an industrial-strength vibrator.”
“Volcanic healing waters or a vajayjay jackhammer.” I pretend to weigh my options carefully. “Ooh, tough call.”
“Go,” Sienna laughs.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mom.”