Chapter 20 #3
Finally, Friday arrived, and I’d never been so thankful to reach the end of this maddening countdown clock.
The flight to Atlanta was brutal, turbulence churning my stomach, the changes in altitude leaving me with a pounding headache that drilled across my temples like a battering ram.
As soon as I landed, a text from Ryder popped up.
Ryder: Shooting’s running behind, so I sent a car for you. The cast wants to get a drink after we wrap for the day, so I told the driver where to bring you. Everyone’s excited to meet you!
Ryder: Can’t wait to see you ?
My heart sank. It’s okay, I told myself.
He doesn’t know you’re nauseous, exhausted, and can’t drink.
Why would he think this was an issue? Still, frustration simmered in my veins.
After weeks apart, I’d flown across the country to see him, and the last thing I wanted to do was make small talk with strangers.
And which was it—were they still shooting, or already out drinking?
Surely if it was the latter, he could’ve picked me up himself.
I hated what I was turning into—bitter and insecure, the kind of nagging long-distance girlfriend I swore I’d never become—but it was hard not to feel like an afterthought.
I gave his message a passive-aggressive thumbs-up, then tossed my phone in my purse and slumped back against the car’s leather headrest, closing my eyes.
I must have managed to doze off, because the next thing I knew, we were idling at a curb.
“Ma’am? We’ve arrived,” the driver said gently, and I got the sense this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention.
“You can leave your luggage here in the car. I’ll just be waiting nearby until you and Mr. Perry are ready to leave. ”
I’m ready to leave now, I wanted to say, stretching my tight neck muscles. Speaking of Mr. Perry, where the hell is he? The sound of the bar’s thumping bass vibrated through the car doors, and my entire body filled with dread at the thought of spending even one minute inside that torture chamber.
I shot Ryder a text: I’m here. I waited until I saw him appear at the front entrance before opening the car door, and before I could even step out he was there, scooping me into his arms and lifting me clean off my feet.
I wound my arms around his neck and held on for dear life, and for the first time in a month, everything felt right in the world.
“Hi baby,” he whispered in my ear, his arms looped around my back, holding me tightly to him. The term of endearment, and its unintentional double meaning, made my breath hitch, and tears sprang to my eyes before I could stop them.
When we finally pulled back, Ryder brushed my hair out of my eyes and pressed a kiss to my lips, deep and unhurried, oblivious to the sidewalk traffic around us, or perhaps just not caring.
He tasted like smoked bourbon, smooth and potent, with a burn that lingered on my lips.
When he set me back on my feet, I winced and braced my forehead, all the motion making my head throb.
Ryder looked concerned, keeping one hand curled around the back of my neck as he stooped to get a better look at me. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I told him. I could barely stand without swaying. “The flight was rough, and my head is pounding from the pressure changes.” And the hormonal chaos of early pregnancy, I added silently.
“Oh. This music probably isn’t helping then, is it?” he said over the thud of the bass. “Did you take your meds?”
I can’t take any prescription medication! I screamed internally. Which you would know if you had any clue what was going on with me!
And then I caught myself. Settle down. You can’t punish him for something he doesn’t know.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I did,” I lied, “but it doesn’t seem to be taking the edge off. I really need to lay low for a bit.”
“Can you make it through one drink? I’ve talked about you so much, everyone’s dying to meet you.
I want to show you off.” He flashed me a panty-dropping smile, though I’d never been less affected by it.
No, I don’t want to spend time with people I’ll never see again.
I want to be alone with my boyfriend and tell him the news I can’t keep inside any longer.
I smiled wanly instead. “Sure, but no drink for me. I’ll take some water or ginger ale, though.”
Ryder gripped my hand, and I stuck close to him as he led me inside, cutting through the crowd of happy hour revelers and leading us to a large group that was clustered around a few high-top tables along the back wall.
Introductions were made, and I recognized the names of people I’d been hearing stories about for the last month: his costars Jeff, Vonn, and Ty, Tinsley and Celeste, plus various members of the crew.
It was a young cast, and they definitely gave off hard-partying vibes.
The guys gave me a hero’s welcome, enthusiastic and raucous, all claiming they’d heard so much about me.
It was sweet, if a little overwhelming—and loud. My temples pulsed in protest.
Celeste was a different story. On the surface, she seemed perfectly lovely: chatty and confident, with a raspy voice and a loud, infectious laugh.
She was beautiful, of course—par for the course in our industry, though jealousy wasn’t what tripped my radar.
It was the way she greeted me with exaggerated affection, as if we were old friends rather than total strangers.
Her compliments were a little too effusive, her questions a bit too pointed, like she was sizing me up, stockpiling details to use later.
She spoke to everyone like they were her favorite person in the room, all hugs and shoulder squeezes, hip nudges and breathy laughs.
She touched everyone, but with Ryder, it was different.
Her hands lingered longer on him—a palm pressed to his arm when she laughed, her fingers subtly brushing his when she passed him a drink, her lips grazing his ear when she leaned in too close to whisper something.
She kept looping him into her stories, anchoring herself to his side, telling inside jokes clearly meant to make me feel like an outsider.
It was so brazen, I almost had to admire the audacity to mark her territory while I stood three feet away.
Maybe it should’ve bothered me, but I of all people knew what it felt like to fall under his spell.
Ryder was magnetic, talented, absurdly attractive.
It was no surprise other women would be drawn to him, and I’m sure Celeste wouldn’t be the last woman who’d try to turn his head.
In truth, her antics sparked more pity and secondhand embarrassment than jealousy.
What did bother me was that Ryder wasn’t putting a stop to it.
I hung back and watched from the sidelines with equal parts curiosity and annoyance, analyzing their dynamic while I sipped from the ginger ale he’d secured for me.
Ryder wasn’t encouraging her per se, but he wasn’t exactly rebuffing her advances either.
She hadn’t featured prominently in the stories he told, or maybe she had and I’d been too distracted to notice. Either way, I was paying attention now.
“I take it you’ve had a lot of scenes together?” I asked her, keeping my tone light as I nursed my drink, the condensation sweating through my fingers.
Celeste’s smile was smug and sugarcoated. “Oh, loads. I’m sure Ryder wishes he could escape me! I’m basically his work wife at this point.” She laughed, her sphinx-like smile staying in place.
I held her gaze, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably long, letting it speak for me.
I could have given her a bitchy response.
I could’ve reminded her who she was talking to, told her to back off, made a scene just to watch her squirm.
But I didn’t care enough to waste my breath.
I was exhausted, nauseous, and hormonal; out of energy and fucks to give.
I didn’t need a scene. I just needed air.
I glanced over at Ryder, laughing at something Ty had said and completely oblivious to the tension sparking like static around him. A sudden, cold clarity came over me, and just like that, I was done. I set my drink down, excused myself, and walked straight out the door of the bar.
I had no idea where our driver was parked and hadn’t gotten his name or phone number, so I pulled up Uber and started fast-walking down the street, anxious to put as much distance between me and that pulsing wall of noise as possible.
I was halfway down the block before I heard Ryder calling my name and I slowed, steeling myself. I didn’t have the strength or the stomach for a fight.
“Scarlett, seriously? You just left without telling me?” Ryder said, slightly out of breath as he jogged up to me. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry, but I can’t be in there another minute.”
His face creased in confusion. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” I lied, not wanting to give Celeste an ounce more of my attention.
I refused to let her hijack our night. “I told you, I don’t feel well.
I have a pounding headache and I’m nauseous from the flight.
I did what you asked, Ry. I met your friends, I played along for one drink, and now I need to lie down. ”
He stared at me, brow furrowed, like he wasn’t buying it, like he knew I was hiding something. He can read your expressions, I reminded myself. Your acting doesn’t work on him.
“I’m not trying to make you leave,” I forced myself to say, the lie chafing my throat. “Why don’t I go back to the hotel and rest, and you can come back when you’re done here.”
I regretted the words before they’d even left my mouth. I was playing a dangerous game, testing him like this, and the risk far outweighed the reward. If he let me leave, it would break me, and I wasn’t sure we’d recover.