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Chapter Eight
Cade
She doesn’t magically show up in Vancouver on Monday, even though I clearly wanted her to.
Want and expectation are two different things, though, and even though I wanted her here, I expected her to stay away.
But hell, I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’ve been through Charleigh’s Instagram more than once in the last three days, trying to see if she’ll post something new about her friend.
That’s a big negative, but I can’t help but want to know more about Tatum; no. Dylan.
Who is the dad?
Why is her being pregnant such a big deal?
Why is she in hiding?
Every night, sucker that I am, I’ve asked those very questions to the black and white image of Dylan laughing—the picture of the beautiful girl with sad eyes.
It’s my favorite of her, I’ve decided.
You know, compared to the Getty Images, studio shoots, and paparazzi shots.
Favorite or not, I have to focus on this movie and if it’s not going to be the name Tatum O’Malley’s opposite mine, I have to be okay with the current situation.
And the woman casted as my costar, Amanda Price, isn’t terrible.
She’s no Tatum O’Malley, but I’m accepting at this point that she is who I am going to be working with.
Might as well get the filming over with.
I’m heading to my hotel room, walking down the long hall from the elevator, when my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans. With a yawn—script readings and sitting at a table surprisingly take a lot of my energy; I’d much rather be on set—I pull my phone out.
Charleigh.
“What’s up, Char?” I say immediately upon bringing the phone to my ear.
“So, I’ve let it go long enough but, what the hell did you say to Dylan!?”
Ah.
So, Charleigh was on a real-name basis with the girl but failed to mention her real name to me. I see where I rank.
“I haven’t talked to Dylan in four days. I left her at the house. Asked her to think about coming up. But she obviously chose to not do the film.”
“Of course she’s not filming!”
At the door, I wave my keycard in front of the plate and listen to the lock click open, the green light flashing, and push into the suite.
“She’s pregnant, Charleigh, not dying. Filming takes two months tops. She could have done it if she really wanted to. She’s barely showing now. The movie takes place in the winter. She could have gotten around it.”
“You are such a guy.”
“Yep. I’m a guy. Thanks for finally noticing.” I flip over the door guard and lock the bolt as I toe off my shoes.
“You’re being more dense than usual, Cade. It’s not a good look on you.”
