44. Jenna
Chapter forty-four
Jenna
“Are you sure you want to leave?” Cassandra asks me for the fifth time in the last three minutes, and each time, my answer has been a simple ‘ yes’.
Do I want to leave my dream job behind? No. I’m terrified of what it will do to my reputation. It’ll probably blacklist me from ever working on a movie set again.
But at the same time, is this really the career I want if it has the potential to be like this?
Shaking my head, I zip my last suitcase shut and lift it onto its wheels. “I’m sure,” I say. “No one will miss me when I’m gone. Hell, I don’t think they’ll even notice. I haven’t told anyone apart from Tahnee. She said she’ll tell them I had a family emergency or something.” I rummage through my duffel bag to make sure I have everything I need before giving my apartment one last sweep.
All I see remaining is the brand new mixer left on the kitchen countertop.
Even if I had room for it in my bags, I would still leave it behind.
“You think no one will miss you?” Cassandra grabs my arm to stop me from walking away. Her hazel, doe eyes are red and watery.
“You don’t count. You miss me even when I’m here and you’re home,” I tease her, and she lets go of my arm.
“Not me. Cole.”
“I know you’re on his team, Cass, but could you at least pretend to be on mine? I need you to support this decision. You, of all people, know how hard it was for me to make.” She had to make one similar to this not too long ago, and I hated that she felt the need to leave, but I supported her through it.
“This is me being on your side, Jen. Trust me. Besides, you leaving here is totally different to when I left California,” she reminds me as if I don’t already know that. “My fiancé and I had just broken up because he knocked up another woman. I left to get away from that . You’re leaving because you’re scared that if you stay, you won’t want to let him go.”
I ignore her, searching for my phone in my purse, knowing full well it’s in my pocket on the side of my dress, but I can’t bring myself to look at her.
She’s right.
Of course she is.
I hear her footsteps get closer to me, as her arms wrap around my shoulders, and my body crumbles into hers.
“If you really want to leave, I’ll take you to the airport. But it’s not too late to change your mind. You don’t owe anyone here anything, but I think you know you owe it to yourself to try.” She kisses my temple before pulling herself away from me, wiping the tears that had fallen down my cheeks. “Where too?” she finally asks, gripping the handle of a suitcase in her palm.
I look around my now-empty apartment, no sign of life visible, and I let out a deep, shaky breath. “The airport.”
We close my door behind me, each of us rolling luggage behind us and a duffle bag slung over our shoulders while I lock the door.
“Heading out so soon?” Marv asks as he hurries toward us to help with my bags. A slight frown appearing across his face.
I’ll miss him, of that much, I’m sure.
“Family emergency,” I lie, because like the last three months, lying is easier than telling the truth.
I’m not spreading misinformation. My mom is sick, but she doesn’t need me.
They don’t need to know that.
“Will you be back to visit?” he asks, and I nod with a smile, dropping my bags to take him in for a hug that startles him. He pats me firmly with one hand. “Thank you for letting me tell you about Louella,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s been a long time since anyone has asked me about her.” Pulling back, I release him, and the three of us head toward Cassandra’s parked car.
We load my bags into the back in silence, until my best friend closes the door quietly, and I give Marv one last hug.
He clears his throat. “Safe travels, Ms. Rogers.” He nods and makes his way back inside the building without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
Cassandra climbs in the driver’s side first, and I hesitate while taking in Grangewood Creek one last time.
The place that was my home for the last three months, will become nothing but a distant memory—a place I will look back on when I think about the only time I gave my heart to a man who didn’t know what to do with it.
Opening the passenger side door, I throw my bag onto the floor and step on the footrest to climb in, when Cassandra yells, “Wait!” I freeze, my ass hovering above the seat. “Don’t sit down,” she tells me, her voice frantic, and I take a step out of the car to see what the hell she’s talking about.
Planted carefully on the place I was about to throw myself onto, is none other than a cupcake. I can tell it’s homemade because the icing looks like a spiral was attempted, only without a piping tip. Which makes it kind of look like a weird-looking slug swirled around on the top.
“Did you make this?” I ask Cassandra, who sits on the driver’s side with a smile on her face.
With her cheeks flushed pink, she shakes her head.
“I didn’t make it. But I put it there.”
“Then who..” I trail off. I don’t need her to tell me. “But why?” I ask her.
Scooping it up between my fingertips, I climb into the seat, and clip my buckle across my chest before I bring it to my nose.
I can smell the vanilla right away, but the citrus throws me. “Lemon?” I ask her, and she shrugs while turning on the ignition, and a tiny lick tells me I’m right.
“Like I said, I didn’t make it. I was just tasked with giving it to you.” She focuses her attention on the road, but breaks suddenly before we’ve even left the car park. “He left this for you, too.” She hands me a paper cup with lukewarm coffee inside, and a piece of paper folded into a little square.
Without hesitation, I place the coffee into the holder tray between us, and open up the letter a little too quickly for someone who’s ready to give up.
As it turns out, nervous baking doesn’t always help.
I hope the coffee tastes better than the cupcake.
Mr. Big xo
An olive branch.
Shaking my head with a wide smile still on my face, I turn to face my best friend. “Change of plans. Take me to Wingrove Estates.”
“I was going to do that, anyway.”
The set is already roaring to go.
Producers with headsets over their ears, talking into the attached microphones while they busy themselves by getting everything into place, extras shuffling in and out of wardrobe.
Mara is seated in Tahnee’s chair with an emotionless expression on the side of the stage, while my colleague works to neaten and fill in her eyebrows.
It’s not as easy as it sounds when the person in your chair has a resting bitch face, but she makes it work.
When I look to the left of Tahnee, I see my chair occupied by the man my heart has come to know, and my body has come to crave. I would say I’m surprised to see him waiting for me, but I’m not. Especially after his note, his failed attempt at a cupcake, and the coffee that was barely warm by the time it got to me.
I approach with caution, looking around the room to see if anyone is watching me, but to my surprise, they’re all too busy to care.
Mara, no longer stoic, chats Tahnee’s ear off when she sees me approaching.
Clearing my throat, I straighten my back, perk my chin up a little, and pull confidence out of thin air while forcing a smile on my face.
“What scene are we shooting today?” I ask to fill the silence and hopefully slice the tension, but his jaw ticks in the mirror as Tahnee answers the question for him.
Now isn’t the time to say what I need to say, so I’ll wait until he isn’t needed.
“It’s a re-shoot, actually. Something wasn’t right with one scene they shot a few weeks ago, so they need to do it again.” She shrugs, handing me the paperwork with all the information on what Cole needs done to his hair. I could do it with my eyes closed, but I don’t. This may be the last time I’m ever this close to Cole Green, and I want to remember all the little details about his face.
His dark, hooded eyes, his mischievous, crooked smile with deep dimples in each cheek, and the way his expression softens when he sees me.
If it’s the last time I get to see him, I want to soak it all in.
I trim the top and sides, but not too much. I rub the hair product in my hands, then run it through his hair until I get the desired outcome, to which he nods, still no word spoken, and gives me a formal smile.
My stomach sinks.
I guess the cupcake and the coffee weren’t an olive branch or a peace offering, after all. I’m beginning to think they were a parting gift.
While they were my way of an attempted goodbye, I think his attempt might just be the real thing. When I pull out my phone to beg Cassandra to come back and take me to where I originally hoped to go, my calls go to voicemail.
She never willingly ignores my calls.
That alone tells me she’s up to no good.