Chapter 15 #3
I nod, still looking out on the landscape.
“I always felt like he was tolerating it, like he didn’t take my job seriously.
He would make comments here and there, that once we settled down and had kids, I could give up acting and retire, that I’d no longer need to work.
And I get it, I guess, because it’s not like we’d need the money.
” I turn to face him, suddenly passionate.
“But you know me: I love the work. I don’t do this for the money, or because I like being famous.
I genuinely love what we do. I love being on a set.
I love getting to collaborate with the most brilliant and creative minds in the world.
I love taking this thing on paper and turning it into something that makes people feel something.
Performing is what I’m meant to do, it’s what makes me feel the most alive.
Even if I do want a family, I’m still going to want to work in some capacity.
I don’t want to give it all up. And I want someone who wants that for me. ”
He nods seriously, his gaze steady and thoughtful, like he’s absorbing every word. “That sounds perfectly reasonable.”
I exhale. “Does it? Because it’s a weird thing, to break up with someone who hasn’t really done anything wrong.
It’s not like we had some blowout fight.
And then there’s the second-guessing. What if I don’t find someone better?
What if I’m being too picky, waiting around for some perfect match that doesn’t exist?
The deck is already seriously stacked against me ever finding someone well adjusted enough to put up with all this.
Should I have stayed with someone who’s good enough?
Honestly, I can’t blame people who do. I just couldn’t make myself settle for good enough when…
” The words die on my tongue as I realize too late that I’ve said too much.
He finishes for me. “When you know what true love is like.”
The breeze whips up again, blowing more strands of hair into my face, and when he reaches up to tuck them behind my ear, it takes all my willpower not to move closer and melt into the reassuring embrace I know would be waiting for me. With just one step, my body could be cradled in his arms.
Instead, I break his gaze and look away.
After a beat, he coughs. “First of all, promise me you’ll never settle, for anyone or anything. You deserve the best, Scar. You deserve everything.”
I try to wave him away, embarrassed by his earnestness, but he won’t let me.
“No, you don’t get to brush me off. I’m gonna say some things and you have to listen, because this may be the only chance I get to do it.
” He takes a deep breath. “Any guy who doesn’t recognize what a gift you have, who would let you quit, who isn’t shouting about your talent from the rooftops?
He doesn’t deserve you. I meant what I said at that press conference—The Lost Letter would never have been what it was without you.
Take it from someone who’s watched the movie six hundred and forty-three times,” he says with a grin, and I have to laugh.
“You’re extraordinary. You’re…” he stops, searching. “You’re lightning in a bottle.”
His words, and the force behind them, knock the wind out of me. Something sharp flares in my chest, aching and insistent, like a tectonic shift cracking me open from the inside. I swallow hard, trying to rub away the sudden sting behind my ribs. Say something, Scarlett.
“I meant to thank you for what you said at the press conference.” I have to fight to keep my voice steady.
“No need. It was long overdue.”
I shake my head, refusing to let him minimize what now feels like a seismic event in my life.
“It meant something to me, to hear you say all that. It made me realize…” Emotion clogs my throat, and I cough to clear it.
“I’ve spent years trying to downplay my success, always worrying how it would affect the person I’m with.
I’ve made myself smaller so they won’t feel threatened.
And until you said all that, I don’t think I realized how badly I just needed someone to be proud of me.
To celebrate and delight in my accomplishments even more than his own.
It really shouldn’t be too much to ask.”
“Of course it’s not. You deserve to be championed,” he says simply, like it’s obvious, and not the blinding epiphany that’s altered my entire worldview. I stare at him, mystified, until a semi-hysterical laugh tumbles out of me.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are.” He looks at me quizzically, which triggers a fresh round of giggling. “How did we get here? In a million years, I never would have imagined I’d be showered with compliments by the guy who once told me I was ‘stealing his thunder,’ ” I wheeze out through air quotes.
He snorts a laugh of his own, scrubbing a hand over his face. “What an idiot I was. Took me way too long to realize that the better you were, the better you made me look.”
I honk another laugh, wiping away the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. He grins at me, relaxed and happy, and it’s wild to think how much history is behind that smile. How far we’ve come.
The sun is starting to set, bathing us in a flattering pinkish hue.
Soft-focus light kisses the tip of his nose, his brow and cheekbones, the shells of his ears.
His fingers flex on the handrail, gripping tight as he leans over the side.
His pinkie is just a millimeter from mine, close enough to reach out and grab if I wanted.
And I want. I ache with it.
“When did you add this?” I ask instead, referring to his beard, and skim a fingertip through the stubble at his chin. In my game of twisted logic, he brushed my hair back first, so I’m entitled to one free touch of my own. No jury in the world would convict me.
He strokes his jaw self-consciously, and I have the intense urge to take over for him, to brush his hand aside and do it myself.
“I’ve wanted to for years, but I kept having to shave it for films. What do you think, has it helped with the whole ‘baby face’ thing?
” he asks, angling slightly to show off his profile.
I chuckle to myself—only a man would be upset that he looks younger than his years. “You’ve got some gray coming in,” I tell him, stroking my thumb along the salt-and-pepper seasoning at his temples. That’s two. I’m pressing my luck.
In truth, Ryder’s never looked sexier. The beard lends him a certain gravitas, a rugged maturity that suits him so well, I ache in places I can’t name.
I’m still not used to seeing his hair short, so accustomed to the messy tangle that perpetually hung over his forehead, though the unobstructed view of his eyes is a welcome upgrade.
It’s as though he replaced the hair he was always hiding behind with a beard he can hide behind.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s intentional.
A handful of ducks skitter into our little cove, skidding to a stop just a stone’s throw from the boat.
Ryder turns and plucks the baguette from our mountain of food on the table, then motions for me to join him on the wooden swim platform jutting out from the back of the boat.
I kick off my sandals before settling in next to him, dangling my feet in the water and lazily paddling them back and forth.
He hands me a hunk of the bread, and I try not to obsess over the press of his bicep against my shoulder, the brush of his shorts on my bare thigh, the fresh scent of his sun-kissed skin.
It’s like my pheromones are in overdrive after years of hibernation. I feel like I’ve slipped through a wormhole and I’m suddenly back where it all began, carrying ten years of new memories but with all my old feelings still intact.
I take a cleansing breath and look over at him, the twilight sun washing him in a rosy glow. “So what about you?” I ask, nudging him with my shoulder.
“What about me?”
“I just bared my soul. It’s your turn.”
He throws out some bread scraps, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “What do you want to know?”
“For starters, why aren’t you married with two point five children? Or had at least one ill-advised Vegas wedding? Surely there’s been no shortage of female volunteers.”
He smirks, the light reflecting off the water making his amber eyes blaze bronze. “Nah, you were right earlier. I’ve been a monk.”
Oh please. “So you’re gonna tell me this ‘acting break’ of yours has nothing to do with a woman?”
“That is what I’m telling you, yes.”
I scoff, not buying it. “Come on. It’s been ten years, there must have been someone.”
He lets out a heavy breath. “If there was someone, would I have spent the last three days trying to get you alone on my boat?”
It takes longer than it should for the light bulb to blink on, but when it does, it burns through me like a solar flare. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, alone on your boat?”