He’s quiet for a long moment, his hands fisting restlessly in his pockets like he’s holding himself back—but from what, I don’t know. “You know what Millie was saying, about her husband being her best friend?” I nod and he swallows heavily, something raw in his eyes. “You were my best friend once, Scarlett. There were so many times over the past ten years I wanted to talk to you, I wasdesperateto, and I couldn’t.” His voice catches on the worddesperate, and it punches the air from my lungs, stripping away the last layer of my resistance. “I miss my best friend.”
When I say yes, it’s because I can’t lie to myself anymore: He’s not the only one who hasn’t let go.
12
Then
“We’ve just gotone last thing before we wrap for the day,” Nate announced, all business as he came out from behind the camera, and I sighed with relief. I was desperate to exchange these heels for some fuzzy slippers.
I heard my name being called, and when I turned I saw my assistant Lainey heading my way, her hands clutching a cake blazing with lit candles. It took a second for the dots to connect, but when they did, my cheeks flamed red.They found out.All the cast and crew gathered around me with big grins, and I blushed as they broke into a boisterous rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
After I’d blown out the candles and thanked everyone, Ryder and Jason cornered me. “Why didn’t you tell us it was your birthday?” Ryder demanded, talking around the massive bite of cake he’d just forked into his mouth.
“Should I have sent a memo demanding everyone celebrate me?” I joked, digging into my own slice.
“Yes!”
I chuckled. “Not really my style.” I’d never loved the forced fanfare around birthdays. I hated a fuss being made over me, and besides, I was already self-conscious about being younger than just about everyone on this set. I felt insecure enough without calling attention to the fact that I was underage.
“How old?”
I bit my lip. “Twenty-one.”
Their jaws dropped in unison, and I had to laugh. It was like a perfectly timed comedy skit.
“She’s a baby,” Jason whispered in awe, and I punched his arm.
“I’m sorry—today is your twenty-first birthday, and you weren’t going totellanyone?” Ryder was aghast.
“It’s unacceptable,” Jason concurred, shaking his head.
“Guys, it’s really okay,” I told them, wiping some rogue frosting off Ryder’s upper lip. “Saving some for later?” I teased, and Jason clocked our interaction with a smirk.
Ryder swung an arm around my shoulders, licking at the corner of his mouth, and I ignored the coil tightening in my stomach. “It isnotokay. Tonight, I’ll be buying you your first legal drink.”
“No need,” I objected, holding up my hands. “Really, I’m all good.”
“This is not a skippable birthday,” he countered. “Besides, it’s Friday night. What are you going to do, stayhome?”
“After this week? Uh, yeah. My dogs are barking, and Italian takeout and elastic-waistband pants are calling my name.”
Ryder looked appalled. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to save you from yourself. Jason agrees with me.”
Jason shrugged. “He’s got a point. It’s basically against the lawnotto go out on your twenty-first birthday.”
“What’s your drink of choice?” Ryder asked as the three of us walked to the waiting van that would take us back to base camp.
“Honestly? I don’t really know,” I confessed. “I was kind of a goody two-shoes in high school, and since I didn’t go to college, I never really got that ‘binge drinking’ exposure. I’ve had wine?” I offered lamely.Pathetic. Meanwhile, the guys were gaping at me like I’d just confessed to still believing in Santa Claus.
Ryder turned to Jason. “Okay, so we have tonight’s mission: Find Scarlett’s signature drink.”
“This sounds dangerous,” I protested, but they were already off to the races, and there was no reining them in.
“With the wrong company maybe, but you’re with us,” Jason blustered, like the two of them were exemplars of good judgment, like I hadn’t just witnessed them daring each other to jump from the barn’s hay loft. “We are highly trustworthy individuals.”
I raised a skeptical brow. “Not sure I can trust two men who’ve never been through an awkward stage.”
It was determined that we’d go to the Tiki Hut, a local dive bar decorated with flowered leis and sticky astroturf that served umbrella drinks in souvenir tumblers shaped like totem poles. It was chosen mainly for its proximity to Riverview—“easier to stumble home,” as Ryder had put it—and if that criteria should have concerned me, welp, it was too late now.
