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“Conflict, I like it.” Allyson clapped then rolled her eyes at him when he glared at her. “Oh don’t look at me like that. We’re in the business of telling stories, this is what we do. So what happened?”
He didn’t mean to tell her, but everything spilled out. He explained how they’d met while she was stealing clothes from her best friend and had clicked immediately. Then, he filled her in on the shuffle board and the backstory game and the way being around Aubrey just seemed to make sense in a way that he hadn’t felt before. The whole thing should have sounded idiotic when he put it out there in words to a stranger—one who had his career in her hands—but it didn’t. It was just the truth.
“So where is she now?” Allyson asked after the waiter delivered their food.
“She flew home.” Without him. Without saying goodbye.
And you blame her for that, Mr. Asshole?
The director shook her head in sympathy. “And you don’t know where that is.”
“I do.” One flight and a short drive in a rental car away.
Allyson stared at him for a second as if waiting for more then she shrugged and stabbed her salad with her fork. “But she was just some woman on a cruise so it doesn’t matter.” She pointed the pierced iceberg lettuce on her fork at him. “You’ll remember her fondly and that’s that.”
The conversation moved on and Carter ate his entire hot fudge sundae without tasting it at all as he moved through the brunch while in a haze saying all the right things at the right times.
“Oh, one more thing.” Allyson flipped through the script’s pages as she got up from her chair and then pushed the script across the table to him. “You might want to take a look at this. Really think about where the character is at this point and why he needs to make this move.”
He glanced down at the page. “What scene is it?”
“The grand gesture, when he fights for what and who he really wants.”
“You trying to tell me something?” Even he wasn’t dense enough to miss that.
She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Only that you have a week before shooting starts and I suggest you spend it doing something that really matters.” She did that Hollywood thing of kissing him on the cheek instead of saying goodbye. “For research purposes of course.”
Then she winked at him and walked out of the restaurant. He stood there for a second, uncertainty making his palms sweat. Then he caught sight of the blonde in his peripheral vision again and for half a second—even though he knew better—he thought it was Aubrey. Fuck. He’d be doing that for the rest of his life if he didn’t make good on this moment. Allyson was right. It was time to go do some research. Carter was on his phone and making flight reservations before he hit the door.
Twelve
With the morning bakery rush was over, Aubrey wheeled her new office chair over to the closed secretary desk tucked away in the corner of the small dining room ready to start her new life. It may not be the one she’d planned on having, but it was the one that fit with who she was now and where she wanted to take her life. The past week since she’d gotten home hadn’t been easy, but then again change never was. She pushed her chair into place at the desk. It was white with a fold-down top that locked when she closed it, had three drawers, and two cabinets there was plenty of space for her notebooks, laptop, research, and more.
Nerves all jangly about the fact that she was really going to do this, she took out her key and unlocked the desk. Everything was precisely in its place. Pens stood in the mug decorated with the bakery’s logo. Her laptop was on the top shelf charged and waiting. Her sticky notes were in the top drawer waiting to be used. She let out a nervous breath. Yep, she was finally going to do this.
The bell on the front door gave her half a second of warning before the first of the morning gaggle of gossipers walked through the door. Mr. Lucas had been coming to the bakery every morning for years to sit with his cronies and solve the world’s problems over coffee and a cruller.
He jerked to a stop in front of her, then looked around as if to confirm he was in the right bakery. “Where’d the corner table go, Aubrey?”
“It’s in the other corner now,” she said, pointing to the table she’d dragged over to the other side of the dining area last night after she’d finished building the desk and getting it in place.
He glanced over at the table, already set with his usual Retired And Loving It mug along with Mr. Mendoza’s Old Fart mug, Mr. Corelli’s Life Begins At Seventy mug, and Mr. Jackson’s Best Grandpa mug. “Why?”
“The plug ins are over here.” Lord knew she’d looked around every square inch of the place to see if there was any other place it could go. “I need to be able to charge my laptop so I can work on the outline for my book.”
Oh wow. Admitting it out loud had been a rush. She hadn’t told anyone yet. Of course, now that she’d told him, she wouldn’t have to.
“You’re writing a book?”
“I am.” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, prepped for mockery.
“Good for you.” Mr. Lucas gave her a nod of encouragement. “I’ll steer the boys over here when they come in.”
A bubbly excitement filling her, she settled in at her desk while Mr. Lucas took his mug from the table and wondered over to the counter where he filled up his coffee from the carafe that was always on the corner and picked up one of the crullers already on a plate, leaving exact change behind to cover the bill. There was a benefit to having regulars who always got the usual.
For the first time since she’d left for the cruise, she opened her laptop. The screen was dirty with smudged fingerprints—why did she never notice that until she was out in public—but it only took a few seconds for it to warm up and an image of Carter to fill the once dark space. In it, he was smiling, no Iowa farmboy scruff covering his face, as he walked his dog. And with that every happy little fizzy bubble of exhilaration popped until there was nothing left but a chin-trembling sadness.
