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“Honestly, a lot of people I met in that life are boring when it comes down to it.” I shrug.
“How so?” Liam asks.
I shrug. “It’s all about image. Spend three minutes alone and you’ll realize that all they’re comprised of are Instagram pictures, magazine spreads, and product placement.”
“Well, what about those people on reality dating shows? They have to be somewhat real as reality stars, right?” Liam argues.
Alana cackles. “Here he goes. Liam tries to come off as the grumpiest recluse in town, when little does everyone know he’s obsessed with D-list TV contestants.”
“He and Mom watch them every week together with a bowl of popcorn and red wine.” Patrick lets slip, and I think his brother might punch him.
Liam’s face is nearly purple from embarrassment. “They are funny shows sometimes.”
I pat his knee across the group. “I get it. They asked me to attend a live taping of one of the reunions and I was practically frothing at the mouth.”
Liam can’t hide his need for more information. “Whose season was it for?”
The group breaks into hysterics as Liam and I devolve into a frantic discussion about our favorite and most hated contestants. One drink turns into two, and the atmosphere is warm, if not a little tipsy. Others drop by to talk to Warren or the Ashton siblings, and they always introduce me or try to include me in the conversation.
A blond woman walks past us and waves, then idles as she says hi to Patrick.
“Leah, good to see you. How’s that job over at the river bridge Billy’s got going?” Patrick asks the woman, then leans over to explain to me. “Leah and her husband went to high school with us, and Billy is the town planning engineer now. He’s working on updating the bridge that crosses over to New Jersey.”
“Oh, very neat.” I smile, hoping she doesn’t remember me from high school.
But her eyes linger too long, and I know she knows how I am. Of course she does. I have to stop hoping that people in this town, much less anyone who reads a gossip column, won’t know who I am.
“Yeah, it’s long hours, but hopefully, he’ll keep any of us from driving into the water, so that’s all we can ask, right?” She laughs.
“How is Xander? I need to relieve you two of parent duty soon and come babysit,” Alana tells her.
“He’s good, so into those Marvel movies right now. I keep the more inappropriate ones programmed behind the parental locks but he’s gobbling them up.” Leah’s eyes go moony.
“Xander is their son, and he’s six,” Patrick explains.
“And he’s … oh God, I totally sound like a stage mom. But he’s obsessed with movies and plays, loves Broadway, too. I know Wilson mentioned you were doing workshops over at the playhouse, and I’m wondering if you’ll do a kiddie class of sorts? Xander would just love that.” Leah looks so hopeful.
For the first time since I’ve been here, I truly feel a part of something. This woman isn’t talking to me because of who I am in LA or who my father was to this town. She’s talking to me as a contributing part of something in Hope Crest. It’s a little glimpse into who I could become to the people of this town, and I’m jumping for it.
“I think that would be a great idea, let me talk to Wilson.” I beam.
Patrick squeezes my knee, and I know he knows exactly what I’m feeling at this moment.
I cap at it at three drinks, with Patrick only having his one as Alana and Warren pile into our car for rides home.
And as I slide into bed, toasty and a little buzzed, I press my cold toes into Patrick’s calves, and the break-ins and threats are a mere ghost at the edges of my brain.
For the first time in weeks, I sleep soundly, all wrapped up in the arms of the man I love.
26
PATRICK
“You’ve got a little … right here …” I lean in, kissing away the flour on Cassandra’s nose.
“Hey! You’re screwing up my heart, here.” She nudges me back to my side of the counter.
“And here I thought I was making it beat double-time.” I wink, trying to throw her off her game.
