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“You don’t look comfortable,” Chase says.
“Yeah, well, I was pretty much sewed into this thing. Sitting cuts off my air supply.”
He takes his jacket off and drapes it over my lap so I can get comfortable without putting on a show.
“Thanks.”
Chase just winks and shoves some popcorn into his mouth.
I pull my phone out of my clutch. I’ve hardly spoken to Tucker since I got to L.A., so I shoot him off a text.
Wish you were here with me!
“Awe, that’s so sweet,” Chase says. I smack his shoulder but laugh.
“Mind your own damn business.”
Tucker’s reply is instant.
Looks like you’re having enough fun without me. I’d just cramp your style.
I frown. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
You’d never cramp my style.
“Relationships are impossible for people like us,” Chase says, shaking his head.
“Stop reading over my shoulder.”
We’ll talk when you get home.
“You told him you were coming with me, right?”
My lips part, and I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. I told him about the premiere, but that’s it.”
“There’s your problem. Your boy is mad.” Chase takes a drink of his soda and turns toward the movie screen when the lights dim.
“He is not.”
What’s there to be mad about? I’m only doing my job. Smiling for the camera with Chase is no different than Tucker pulling Maryanne Thompson’s cat out of that tree.
I put the phone in my clutch, determined to enjoy the movie. I’m reading more into it than is really there. You can’t tell what someone’s tone is from a text anyway.
But why do I get the feeling that I’m in trouble?
I didn’t sleep last night. Which isn’t good because I got on an early flight this morning from L.A. to Charleston, and then I had to drive down to New Hope.
It’s mid-afternoon, and I’m just pulling into Dad’s driveway, but I called Aunt Clarice ahead of time to give her the heads-up that I needed to have a conversation with Tucker before I came home.
She didn’t even hesitate before she told me to take care of my business and come over when I’m ready.
Aunt Clarice always was my favorite.
I leave my bags in the car and hurry to Tucker’s front door, hitting the doorbell extra hard as if that might make it ring louder inside.
“Scarlett!” Chloe exclaims as she opens the screen door and launches herself into my arms. “You were gone forever. But you were so pretty in your dress.”
“Thank you.” I kiss her head as she leads me into the house and come to a stop when I see Tucker standing in the living room, his hands in his pockets, and no smile on his face.
“Hey, Chloe, why don’t you go to your room while I talk with Scarlett?” Tucker says.
“I want to hear all about the movie—” she begins, but when she sees her father’s face, his gaze which hasn’t left my face, her shoulders slump, and she trudges up the stairs to her bedroom. Neither Tucker nor I say anything until we hear her door close.
“Hi,” I begin.
“Hello.”
This is not good. There’s no hug. No kiss. No, “I missed you so much, don’t ever leave again.”
Nada.
“So, I get the feeling that you’re pissed, and I’m probably dumped here, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out why.”
I cock a hip to the side and cross my arms over my chest. I’ll be damned if I let him see me crumble. I’ll cry later, when I’m alone.
“Chase Walker.”
I tilt my head to the side. “My date?”
His eyes narrow.
“What about him?”
“Did you fuck him?”
“Did I—?” I shake my head, laugh humorlessly, and turn away from Tucker, heading to the front door. “You know what, Tuck? Go fuck yourself.”
I make it onto the porch and to the top of the stairs when Tucker’s hand wraps around my upper arm, and he spins me around to look at him.
“Scarlett—”
“No.” My voice is even and low because we’re outside, and at least a dozen ears can most likely hear us. “You don’t ever have the right to speak to me like that. You’re the one I’m currently fucking, as you so eloquently put it. But that’s over, too.”
“Listen to me, damn it.”
I stop on the steps and shake my head, pissed as all get out that tears are threatening.
“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Well, it seems you do because I was minding my own business, missing the hell out of you, when my daughter alerted me to the fact that you were wrapped around that son of a bitch like white on rice.”
I spin, my mouth gaping. “She did not say that.”
“No, she didn’t have to. I saw it.”
I march past him back into the house where no one can hear us, relieved when I hear my own music blaring from upstairs in Chloe’s room.
