Chapter Twelve
JAYCE
Jayce lounged in the Adirondack chair, sipping a tall glass of Mia’s homemade lemonade that she’d spiked with a handful of sour gummy worms for some extra oomph , as she’d described it.
The smiling faces of his friends—Mia, Evan, and his girlfriend, Nadia Chopra—glowed in the soft firelight, their silhouettes framed by the midnight-blue ocean behind them. A perfect evening.
Well, it would be perfect when CeCe arrived. She’d promised to join them after dinner with her mom. He expected her any second, to share in the bonfire-on-the-beach tradition they’d loved as teenagers.
While Mia and Nadia enjoyed a lively debate over who was the best leading man in the romantic comedy The Holiday , Jack Black or Jude Law, Jayce immersed himself in his surroundings, letting the sights and sounds transport him back to the past. The crackling logs and rumbling waves.
The cool, silky granules beneath his bare feet.
The earthy scent of sand, salty sea air, and smoldering embers.
His chest heaved at the memory of CeCe’s moonlit figure, the way her dark eyes danced in the flickering flames.
He often found himself transfixed by her, memorizing the way her windswept curls fluttered across her face.
Even though he’d kept his emotions expertly hidden, he still sometimes wondered how she couldn’t sense his feelings ran so much deeper than friendship.
At times, they consumed him so wholly, he felt certain they’d bubble to the surface and give away his secret.
But after all these years, CeCe still had no idea.
It was almost as if she didn’t realize how easy she was to love.
“Who doesn’t adore Jack Black’s character?” Mia cried so fervently, she yanked him away from his thoughts. “During that scene when they’re in Blockbuster and he hums the scores from famous movies, I fell in love with him right alongside Kate Winslet.”
“What about Jude Law’s Mr. Napkin Head?” Nadia countered with equal enthusiasm. “Every woman in the world swooned when he put that napkin under his glasses and made his adorable daughters giggle.” She cast a sheepish glance at Evan. “I mean, almost every woman.”
“Hey, no jealousy here.” Evan grinned an easy, slanted smile. With his blond hair still damp from a sunset surfing session and his tanned legs stretched lazily across the sand, he’d never looked more relaxed. Moving back home suited him. And so did the black-haired beauty sitting beside him.
Not for the first time, Jayce wondered if Evan had the right idea returning to Blessings Bay. Should he follow his lead? What had moving to Los Angeles accomplished other than providing the escape he’d so desperately needed? Sure, he’d distanced himself from the turmoil at home, but at what cost?
That wasn’t your only reason for running away , a quiet voice reminded him. Silencing the intrusive thought, he tried to focus on his friends’ conversation.
“The guy’s a stone-cold stud,” Evan freely admitted. “And so is Jack Black. Although, I think the real superstar of the film was Eli Wallach, who played Arthur Abbott.”
“True,” Mia conceded. “He may have been ninety when they filmed the movie, but the man had charisma. And a sexy career as the Oscar-winning screenwriter who added the kid , to the famous Casablanca line, ‘Here’s looking at you, kid.’ Pretty impressive.
Right, Jayce?” Mia shot him a pointed look before taking a swig of lemonade.
Subtle, Mia. Really subtle . She didn’t pester him about his sidelined dreams very often, but if a rare occasion presented itself, she wasn’t beneath a carefully aimed jab or two.
“It would be impressive if it wasn’t completely fictional.
That line was actually improvised by Humphrey Bogart during filming. ”
“Okay, but someone had to write the original line for Bogart to improvise,” Mia retorted. “The script is the foundation of any good film. And with all the rubbish Hollywood is churning out lately, we need more good ones.”
“No argument there.” Jayce took another sip, ignoring the career-altering secret burning a hole in his chest. It’s too soon to tell .
Noticing Nadia’s confused expression, Evan explained, “Mia likes to remind Jayce that he originally moved to LA to pursue a career in screenwriting.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Nadia’s dark eyes glinted with recognition. “I remember you mentioning that.” Turning to address Jayce, she added, “But then you took an acting class and discovered you had a knack for it, right?”
“Something like that.” He’d taken the class to deepen his writing craft but had enjoyed the escapism of disappearing into new characters, especially as the feud between his parents fueled unhealthy stress levels in his personal life.
At the prodding of his acting instructor, Gretchen came to a performance to observe him.
With her killer powers of persuasion, she convinced him to pursue acting as a gateway into Hollywood, insisting he could return to his writing later.
Then later turned into someday until it eventually became a distant memory. At least, until recently.
“Seems like you enjoy acting,” Nadia offered kindly. “I love all your movies.”
“Thanks. It’s fun. The acting part, anyway. I could do without all the other junk that comes with the job.”
“Such as?” Nadia asked in the genuine, caring tone of a newfound friend, not an intrusively curious fan, which Jayce appreciated.
“The three Ps,” Mia interjected, ticking them off on her fingers. “Parties, publicity, and paparazzi.”
“That about sums it up,” Jayce agreed. Fame served as a curse more often than a blessing.
And nights like this one—where he could count flickering stars instead of flashing bulbs—were few and far between.
Thanks in part to the town’s lack of lodging options, it mostly remained a safe haven from the prying media.
“All the posturing and pretense of Hollywood must make it difficult to find someone special.” Nadia’s gaze drifted to Evan, and they exchanged the kind of private, intimate smile shared between two people deeply in love.
Once again, Jayce marveled at how happy Evan looked. And not just happy, but blissful , with a depth of contentment that stemmed from being exactly where God wanted him to be—with exactly the right person.
Despite what he knew about the longevity of love, Jayce hoped beyond reason that their relationship would last. Or, at least, last for as long as possible.
Nadia, with her well-intentioned knack for speaking her mind, had given Evan the nudge he needed to reassess his life choices.
And perhaps even more crucially, she’d helped him summon the courage to make new ones.
Everyone needed a voice like that, to prod and encourage them down the right path.
For him, that voice belonged to CeCe.
Missing her even more acutely than before, he said, “Excuse me a second,” and pulled out his phone. They still needed to spill the fake engagement news to their friends. Why wasn’t she here by now?
What’s your ETA?
He hit Send on the text, then set the phone on the wide wooden armrest so he could easily keep an eye on the screen.
His phone buzzed a second later.
Sorry. Can’t make it tonight.
What? It wasn’t like CeCe to cancel plans at the last minute. Something must be wrong.
What happened? Are you okay?
He sent his response, then waited, his knee bouncing as the three text bubbles hovered on his screen.
Finally, after the longest pause known to mankind, a single word appeared.
No.
He instantly dialed her number.
The call went to voicemail.
Another text pinged.
Sorry. Can’t talk. Eating my weight in Almond Joy ice cream.
Uh-oh. CeCe’s comfort food.
Save me a scoop. I’m on my way .
Without a second thought, he stood, stuffing his phone in his pocket before she could text back telling him not to come. “Sorry, guys. Gotta bail.”
“Really?” Evan asked in surprise. “Aren’t you crashing here tonight?”
“Yeah, but something came up. Okay if I come in late?”
“Sure. Door’s always unlocked. Everything okay?”
“Thanks. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Ignoring Evan’s question, he bid them all good night, avoiding direct eye contact with Mia. She knew him too well and would instantly guess where he was headed.
Breathing deeply to calm his racing pulse, he climbed into Evan’s beat-up surfer van, grateful for the loaner vehicle even if it smelled like an odd mix of minty rash balm and musty wet suit.
The easy five-minute drive to Main Street felt like six hours as questions, concerns, and worst-case scenarios swirled in his head.
His only consolation rested in the knowledge that if something truly catastrophic had happened, she would’ve asked him to come over.
After all, despite the long distance between them, they were still best friends, right?
He didn’t want to exist in a world where he wasn’t her go-to person.
Although, deep down, in the dark corners of his subconscious he tried to avoid, he knew one day that role would belong to another man.
A man who would marry her for real.
Shoving the thought back into the filing cabinet of likelihoods he refused to acknowledge, he let himself into the café through the side door, using his spare key, then climbed the steps two at a time. He didn’t bother knocking.
CeCe sat cross-legged on the couch, devouring ice cream straight from the carton, while Spock perched on the armrest as if impatiently waiting his turn. His feline friend mewed when he spotted him and leaped to the ground to greet him.
“Hey, buddy.” Jayce scooped the cat into his arms, reciprocating the warm welcome with several scratches behind the ears.
“He never greets me like that,” CeCe mumbled, her mouth full.
“We have a special manly bond.” With a final rub under the chin, Jayce set Spock on the back of the couch, claiming the seat beside CeCe for himself. “Almond Joy, huh? Whatever’s wrong, it must be a doozy.”
She lifted her face, her cheeks puffy and tear-streaked. “Sorry, I just ate the last bite.”
“Don’t sweat it.” He took the empty carton and spoon from her hands and set them on the coffee table before enveloping her in his arms. “What happened and how can I help?”
She leaned into him, melting into the crook of his arm. How did she fit so perfectly? “I’m the worst person in the world,” she whimpered, resting her head on his shoulder as if she could no longer bear its weight.
His chest squeezed. He loathed seeing anyone in pain, especially someone he cared about.
But with CeCe, the sight of her sadness wrecked him.
“I doubt you’re the worst,” he joked, knowing she needed levity in moments like this one.
“What about that guy who trolls Star Trek fan sites claiming Spock is the poor man’s version of Grand Admiral Thrawn from Star Wars ? ”
“Okay, he’s pretty bad.” She sniffled, then laughed softly through her tears when Spock hissed, seeming to express his own disapproval of the troll. “But I’m a close second.”
“Tell me what happened, and Spock and I can vote on where you rank in the Bad Guy Hall of Fame.”
“I can’t.” She buried her face in her hands. “It’s too awful. You’ll wonder why you’re even friends with me.”
“It’s clearly for the lifetime supply of coconut cake,” he teased, lowering both of her hands.
Cupping her chin, he tilted her face until she met his gaze.
“Whatever happened, it’s not going to change how I feel about you.
” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so husky, but his emotions suddenly got the better of him.
Was it his imagination or did her pupils just dilate? Heat radiated between them. He ached to kiss her, to draw her even closer into his arms and show her how deeply he cared. Instead, he cleared his throat and dropped his hand.
Be her friend, Jayce. That’s what she needs right now.
“Tell me when you’re ready. Or don’t. Just know I’m here for you. Always.”
A tear hovered near the corner of her eye, suspended in her thick lower lashes.
Gently lifting her glasses, he gathered the tear on the tip of his finger, lingering against her soft skin a moment longer than necessary.
What a cruel, exquisite kind of self-torment, to be so close to someone and yet still feel so far removed.
Someday, a man would come along to kiss her tears away. Then, one day, the same man would most likely become the reason for those tears. That was always the trade-off, wasn’t it? Romantic Russian roulette, except every chamber was loaded with the barrel aimed right at the heart.
He couldn’t protect her from every pain in life.
But he could strive to never be the cause.