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Prologue
I stormthrough the entrance of my hotel room, slamming the door shut behind me, and toss my keycard down on the console table. My cell phone in my pants pocket keeps vibrating with calls and messages from my agent and friends asking,Where are youandIs everything okay?
If they only knew what was wrong with me, they’d think I was crazy.My mood is as black as the tuxedo I’m wearing and it’s all because my mind keeps playing tricks on me, making me see the one woman who’s been haunting me for years.
Jenna Pruitt.
It’s award season here in Hollywood, and tonight I was on the red-carpet doing press when a petite brunette caught my attention. From behind, she looked exactly like Jenna with the same hair color, build, and height. My heart hammered in my chest with hope that it was her and all rational thoughts disappeared from my brain. I rudely walked away from the reporter who was interviewing me and roughly grabbed the woman’s arm to turn her around to face me. Of course she wasn’t Jenna, and I should’ve known better. There’s no reason for Jenna to be here. She’s not involved in my industry and when I met her all those years ago, she made it crystal clear that she wasn’t interested in dating a Hollywood actor.
After apologizing to the woman I grabbed, I turned around and saw that my actions were caught on camera by the paparazzi. I smiled and played it off the best I could, but on the inside, I felt like I was suffocating. I had to get away—no, Ineededto get away. Away from the fake smiles, the blinding lights of the cameras flashes watching my every move, and most importantly, I needed to get away from the people acting as if they give a fuck about me.
That was the thing I admired most about Jenna. She didn’t care who I was.
I take off my jacket and toss it over the back of the sofa. My fingers roughly tug at the bowtie around my neck before I’m able to free it from my shirt. I walk over to the wet bar, pour myself a shot of whiskey, and down it in a single gulp. The burning sensation from the liquid fire briefly distracts me from my thoughts of Jenna. I take a couple deep breaths, willing myself to calm down.
How can I be this obsessed over someone I barely knew?
Anytime I see someone who remotely resembles Jenna, a wave of memories of our time together comes crashing across my mind. So many emotions are coursing through me, causing me to pace from my high energy. My mother always told me that if I can’t express myself verbally, then writing words down would be the next best thing. I walk over to the desk and rummage through the drawers until I find a pad of paper with the hotel’s name on it along with a pen. I sit down on the couch to think of what I want to say. I start to mentally craft a letter to Jenna and start writing.
Fuck, does this feel stupid, I momentarily think and pause but what does it matter? She’ll never read it. This is for my benefit only to finally admit my true feelings for her. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before continuing.
Dear Jenna,
I can only imagine the look of surprise that would cross your beautiful face if you ever saw this letter. Considering it’s been over four years since we last saw each other and I have no way of getting in touch with you, I’m confident you’ll never read this. My last email to you bounced back. Why? What the hell happened? I don’t recall seeing any warning signs from you. Your emails were the only thing that kept me sane during my grueling work schedule. I told my assistant to let you know that I would write you back as soon as I could. I’m sorry if you felt neglected by my lack of communication. I realize now that I completely fed into your fears of dating an actor by not making you a priority.
Why am I asking these questions after all this time? Because I can’t stop thinking of you. Lately, my mind seems to conjure you up everywhere I go. You would’ve thought it would have been bad in the beginning, but my need to see you has only gotten worse. After I stopped hearing from you and finished the movie I was working on when we met, I kept myself busy. I threw myself into work, accepting back-to-back movie roles until I was mentally and physically worn out. I kept telling myself that I just needed to move on, and I tried, Jenna, fuck did I try, but no other woman has compared to you. I knew from our first date that you were something special and I should’ve never let you go.
I was a damn fucking fool for only accepting your email address after our incredible week together in Las Vegas. I should’ve demanded your phone number and not have been so respectful of your hesitation to give it to me. But I knew your scars from your divorce were fresh and deep. I was determined that our emails were going to prove you wrong–that we weren’t just going to be a fling. But for whatever reason, I stopped hearing from you and that isn’t fucking acceptable anymore. I need a reason why, Jenna, because I can now admit to myself that being your rebound fling wasn’t going to be enough for me.
I want to be your forever.
How in the hell do I fix this, Jenna? Have you even thought about me at all these past four years? Because you haven’t left me. It’s like your scent has made a bubble around me, making me take deep breaths of an illusion that you’re somewhere nearby. Your smile pops into my head at any given time and I can still hear your sexy voice.
Fuck, I’m getting hard just remembering what you looked like when I made you come.
It’s time, Jenna. I’m done chasing after ghosts. I refuse to believe that the bond between us was just my imagination. I pray to God that you aren’t married again, because if you’re not–NO ONE will be standing in the way of making you mine.
I’m coming for you, Jenna.
Yours,
Cal
I put the pen down and smile at how fucking right this feels. I’m going to find Jenna and fate just handed me the perfect opportunity with my next movie filming in her last known location—Chicago. Finding her is going to require some help though. I grab my cell phone and dial my agent’s phone number.
“Cal, what the fuck? Where’d you go? I have some unhappy people here demanding you come back,” Philip yells as soon as he picks up my call.
“I need to hire a private investigator, Philip.”
“A private investigator? Cal, can’t this wait until the morning? You need to get your ass back herenow!”
“Accept the fucking fact that I’m not coming back there tonight until I talk to a private investigator,” I growl at him.
“Shit, Cal,” he mutters in defeat, knowing full well he won’t win this argument. “I know someone that I can call for you, but what is so damn important that it has to be done right now?”
“I need to find Jenna Pruitt and I need to find her ASAP.”
