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Because real life isn’t a movie, Ellie. There’s a reason hardly any fairy tales have sequels.
“Oh, and I’m in between jobs again,” Mom is saying. “Things didn’t work out at that cute little boutique. The owner and I just didn’t mesh well.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I say to let her know I’m still listening. If I had to guess, the owner probably expected things like her employees showing up for shifts consistently and on time. Not my mother’s specialty.
“Anyway, enough about me. What’s up, sweetie? You’re doing that quiet thing you always do when you have something on your mind.”
I stand up and cross my free arm over my stomach. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“I’m your mom. You can trust me.”
I can’t, though. That’s the thing. My mom’s got the biggest heart in the world, but she’s not exactly a vault when it comes to keeping secrets. She’s just a little too impulsive, a bit too fond of juicy gossip.
And even if I could trust her not to get me into trouble for being in breach of contract, I don’t know that I’d trust her advice.
If I told her I was scared of falling for Gage, she’d tell me to go for it. To close my eyes and free-f
all, because that’s where the “good stuff” in life takes place.
And that’s exactly why I’ve called her, I realize. To remember why I can’t take this thing with Gage any further. It’s what my mom would do. She’d throw herself headfirst into a relationship with a movie star, only to get her heart broken, sob on the couch for a week, and promptly fall in love with someone else the week after that. Then repeat.
And that’s fine—for her. I don’t want that.
I don’t want to get hurt. I mean, yeah, I understand that getting hurt is a part of life, and mostly I can handle it. But getting hurt by Gage—I don’t know that I could survive it. I already care too much about a guy who, starting tomorrow, is going to go back to courting a dozen women. Maybe marrying one of them, because it’s his job.
Gage said it himself just tonight—what he wants more than anything is to make a career out of being someone else. He’s an actor first and foremost and always. The job will always come first with him, and we’re not talking about a quiet nine-to-five kind of job. Hell, didn’t I hear the next Killboy movie is filming in Dubai? Not exactly the modest, suburban American dream of my fantasies.
“I’ve got to go, Mom. It was good to hear your voice.”
“Okay,” she says hesitantly. “I’ll see you when I see you?”
“Definitely. As soon as I’m back in San Diego, I’ll swing by the house.”
“When will that be?”
Probably a couple of days at the most.
“Not sure. I’ll call first.”
“Okay, honey. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Definitely.”
But when I say goodbye and hang up the phone, slipping back into bed beside a still-sleeping Gage, I know I’ve just told a bald-faced lie.
I’m not okay. Not even a little bit.
Ellie
I’m expecting the drive back to the villa the next morning to be quiet and awkward.
I’m thrilled to be wrong.
“I hate to keep harping on this, Wright, but I really am not going to be able to let you out of the car until I have your word on this.”
I swear as the car hits a bump and I glob mascara on my eyebrow by accident. “Damn you, Barrett, how did you not make me get makeup remover wipes at the store?”
“I was busy in the snack aisle. I mean, did I want chocolate-covered macadamia nuts for my snack, or plain? These were big decisions.”
