Perfectly Scripted (33 page)

“I’ll send you a picture. You have to see how her little body is twisted in the blankets,” she said with a soft giggle.

“Okay. Thanks. I appreciate that.” As I opened the refrigerator, my gaze caught a candid photo of Holliday and me. It was one of us from a weekend trip we had taken to Vancouver to visit my sister Molly and her family. My heart jerked in my chest.

“Is everything all right, Ronan? You sound a bit low tonight.”

I didn’t want to sour Emma’s good mood. Therefore, I elected not to tell her about my situation with Holliday. Plus, I wasn’t entirely ready to talk about it.

“Everything is fine,” I said reassuringly.

After saying goodbye, I hung up and sat back in the chair at the kitchen counter. The longer I sat there, the more anxious I became. With all the extra energy, I decided to hit the gym. I jumped on the treadmill, and I ran, losing myself in the tempo of the music.

Holliday

I felt a little lost without Ronan. My focus at work was completely lacking, I could hardly eat, and I’d barely slept. It had been three days since I’d walked out on him, having sought refuge at Tinley’s beach house. Maybe beach compound was a better description.

Situated on a dune, the property included ten bedrooms, fourteen bathrooms, a courtyard, additional beach cottage for guests and a pool house overlooking a magnificent saltwater pool.

It was nothing short of spectacular coastal living— a complete haven. Tinley said this was her dream home and was proud that half the money she invested was money she’d earned, not solely family wealth. I was confident many fundraisers would take place here.

Curled up with a blanket, I stared out at the ocean from the second-story deck. Behind me, in the loft, sat the showpiece of the home, her Mother’s white grand piano. The first night I’d stayed, the faint sound of the song “Popular” had carried through the house. I’d padded on bare feet down the hallway only to find Tinley playing the tune on the piano. I hadn’t known she played—or that she was fantastic at it.

“Here we go,” Tinley said behind me. She placed the serving tray between us. “A nice hot cup of coffee.” Then she handed me the mug.

I took a drink, wishing it were something stronger, but it was nine in the morning. However, it was the weekend, so maybe I could talk Tinley into mimosas or making these coffees Irish.

And just like that, I was back to thinking about Ronan.

“I can’t thank you enough for letting me crash here,” I said, looking down at my mug.

“Hey, it’s no trouble,” she replied, wrapping a blanket over her legs. “You are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

My phone buzzed, and the first text message of the day from Ronan appeared.

RONAN: I love you now and always.

“A message from the Irishman?”

I nodded, leaning back in my chair.

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“I don’t know what I’d say to him,” I said, rubbing my fingers across my forehead. “I cannot believe he sold that building to Derek. Derek fucking Saunders—the very man who attacked me.”

“Ronan loves you so much he wanted desperately to avenge your honor by making sure that scumbag criminal was locked away forever. That is pretty damn sexy, if you ask me.”

My eyebrows rose. “Are you serious?”

“That was a bold, badass move on his part.” She gave me wink, and then her thumb and index finger pinched together. “Doesn’t that turn you on just a bit?”

I held her gaze. “Did screwing a cowboy or two rattle your brain cells permanently? I know that some women get off on that shit, but I thought about if Ronan had gone up against Derek, and it ended badly. Ronan is tough, but Derek…He’s fucking insane.”

“I hear what you are saying, and believe me, I’m not trying to make light of your situation,” she said, giving me a sympathetic look.

“I can’t help but think that, if Ronan hadn’t concocted this goddamn plan of his, I never would have seen Derek’s face again.”

“But you can’t say that for sure,” she said, eyeing me over the lip of her mug. “There’s always that off chance you may have seen him one day, and then what? You would have blamed yourself for taking the
other
way home from work or for selecting
that
particular restaurant.”

I let that information roll around my head for a minute. I knew from years of therapy that victims often blame themselves for their choices, an unhealthy coping method. With that in mind, I formed my words carefully.

“This isn’t about fate.” I paused for a moment, recalling something Ronan had said.

“
As it would seem, fate had other plans for us.”

“It’s about the trust we worked so hard to build, and now, it’s been blown to bits.”

“You trusted him to talk to you. Well, good luck with that plan. You know men don’t usually communicate effectively. Besides, he eventually came to his senses and was straightforward with you when you asked about the situation.”

“He also said I wasn’t supposed to find out, which means he was keeping it from me intentionally.”

Tinley had a point though. I needed to look at the situation more objectively.

We sat in silence for a few moments, sipping our coffee and watching the beach come to life with people walking along the shoreline and boats zipping through the waves. Only weeks ago, I’d been looking forward to spending the summer with Ronan, but now, that picture was much different. All of this left me wondering. Would Ronan even stay in New York now? Maybe he would move back to Los Angeles for the summer. Or permanently. My heart bucked in my chest at the thought of him not being close. Tears welled in my eyes, and my throat went dry.

“Let me ask you this, Holls,” she said, refilling her mug. “Isn’t it entirely possible that Ronan was trying to protect you?”

I gave her a nod.

“Right? And in spectacular fashion, he made a judgment in error. You might not see it now because you feel betrayed, but I think, if you look at the situation when you’re hurting less, you’ll find what Ronan did came from a place of love.”

Tears welled in my eyes again. From underneath the blanket, I swiped the screen and stared at his earlier message.

As the days went by, the text messages from Ronan increased. I sat back in my chair staring at the latest message.

RONAN: I love you. I miss you. I’m incredibly sorry I hurt you.

“Is that another text from Ronan?” Charlotte asked after buckling her seat belt for takeoff.

I nodded, powering my phone down and then shoving it into my handbag. Glancing around the cabin of Lucan and Charlotte’s luxurious private jet reminded me of Ronan and the few trips we’d taken.

I smiled as the flight attendant, Jamie, helped the twins with their seat belts. Alexa and Owen were getting so big. The five of us were flying to Malibu for Perry’s birthday weekend, which was supposed to be another trip we’d take together. Owen waved at me, swinging his stuffed bunny in the air. Alexa smiled before taking a handful of her dry cereal and popping it into her mouth.

“They’ll be out soon. Flying puts them right to sleep,” Charlotte said before ordering a glass of champagne.

“Miss Prescott, would you like a glass of champagne as well?”

“No, bring me a glass of your best whiskey with a splash of soda.”

As Jamie stepped away, my sister gave me a sideways glance.

“When are you going to talk to him?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said with a shrug. “I still don’t know what to say to him.”

That wasn’t entirely true. There were plenty of things I wanted to say. Things I lay in bed at night wishing I could say to him. Other things I wished I hadn’t said to him. We hadn’t ever been a mistake, and I’d probably cut him deep with those words.

“You should get some closure, Holliday. The guy is texting you and leaving you messages and you’re just putting him through the wringer.”

I shot my sister a glare. “Have
you
talked to him?”

Smoothing her hair behind her ear, she replied, “No, but I spoke to Dean when I went to pack up some of your things.” She leaned forward, folding her arms over her knees. “He’s hurting too, sis. Dean said he’s never seen Ronan so miserable.”

“He did this to himself…to us,” I tossed back.

Jamie returned with our drinks, and I downed half of the glass, nursing my own misery. Lucan entered the plane as I was ordering my second drink.

“Actually Jamie, bring the bottle and some soda water.”

Jamie turned to face Lucan. “Mr. Ricchetti, can I bring your usual, sir?”

“
Sì
, Jamie.” Lucan gave me a nod before kissing Charlotte.

“Bella, Holliday,” he said, taking a seat across from me. “Why don’t you have some grappa instead if your goal is to become inebriated?”

Clearly, he was joking, but it didn’t stop me from ordering a glass at his suggestion. Charlotte and Lucan exchanged wide-eyed glances, and I smiled. Our drinks were refilled, and I added more soda to my whiskey.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ricchetti, the captain has instructed me to let you know that we will be taking off in ten minutes.”

“
Grazi
, Jamie.” Lucan replied smoothly.

“Cheers,” I offered, lifting my glass. The liquid burned all the way down my throat, warming my belly instantly.

My head fell back, and I closed my eyes. All I saw was Ronan standing at the bar of the penthouse in that blue suit that made his green eyes dazzle. I wondered what he was doing at that moment. My heart clenched in my chest at the thought of him all alone in some bar—or, worse, getting hounded by fan girls trying to console his broken heart.

When someone brushed my leg, I opened my eyes. Lucan had gotten up to take a seat next to Alexa and Owen for takeoff.

Charlotte tapped me on the arm. “Holliday, you better pull yourself out of this sad state, because once Mom sees that Ronan isn’t with you, she will be asking a thousand questions.”

“Relax, Char.” I tilted my head to look at her. “I’ll tell Mom that Ronan had some last-minute work thing. You know how the movie business is.”

“You say you want a partner who will be open and communicate with you, but look at yourself. You are cutting him off despite the fact that he was honest with you when you asked him point-blank why he did what he did. You should talk to him—sooner rather than later.”

“Quit pushing me, sis. I’m not built to stay with a guy who can’t be honest with me. I’m not Mom.” The last words tumbled from my lips in a slur. Had I really meant that?

“So,
that’s
your issue?”

Ignoring her question, I put my earbuds in and flipped some music on. The vibrations from the plane pulsed through my body, and my hands gripped my armrest as we went sailing down the runway. My ears popped as we climbed higher and higher into to the sky and soared through the white, fluffy clouds, chasing the sun. The warm California sunshine.