Now a Major Motion Picture (26 page)

Amos walked over to the couch and began nudging Noah’s hand with his nose. With a groan, Noah rose and went to the kitchen for the leash, thinking a walk might help him clear his head.

It didn’t.

When he and Amos got back to the condo, he shed the previous night’s clothes and headed for the shower. As he walked past the phone on his nightstand, he thought about calling Sam to let her have it, but decided it wouldn’t do any good. What could he say? “I told you so” was hardly an appropriate response, and besides that, he didn’t want to discuss Amelia with anybody, especially his sisters.

How do they even know?
he thought. Obviously Amelia was using a fake name, though he couldn’t fathom why. Had his sisters recognized Amelia from the cover photo, too? Just how well known
were
these books, anyway?

He turned off the shower and walked, still dripping, to his room. He dressed quickly and then pulled his iPad out of his nightstand drawer. When he googled the name “Mel Henry,” the volume of entries it returned boggled his mind. He stared at the small rectangular screen until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

He turned off the device and stood, deciding to do what he always did when confronted with thoughts he wanted to avoid. Snapping Amos’ leash back on his collar, he flipped off lights, headed out to his garage, loaded the two of them into his car, and directed it toward the office.

* * *

The rest of the weekend dragged by in slow motion. He spent most of Saturday alone with Amos in his office suite, throwing himself onto his mountain of work in an attempt to channel his nervous energy into something productive.

He felt like he was going crazy.

It was as if Amelia had returned to torture him just when he’d started to think he’d moved past her. And the worst part by far was that it wasn’t only him who was being hurt by it. He was dragging Erin down with him, which was so unfair. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop it. The mere sight of Amelia’s book—this tangible piece of her that had suddenly materialized in his life—had reopened all his deepest wounds.

Why? Damn it—why? Why can’t I just get over her?
He grimaced as he considered how many times that thought had crossed his mind in the past nine years. He didn’t have an answer, and he was tired of circling the subject. He pulled the iPod he kept at work out of his top desk drawer, put in his earbuds, and turned the volume up loud. With Pearl Jam’s “Ten” drowning out his thoughts, he threw himself into the intricacies of the mechanical systems of the Miami hotel he was trying to design.

When he finally looked up from his work—hunger and exhaustion winning out over self-avoidance—it was almost nine. Erin, thankfully, had prior plans tonight and was out with her friend Hilary. He could only imagine what she was saying to Hilary about him, but at least he didn’t have to worry about what
he’d
say to cover up the fact that he couldn’t handle spending the night with her, at least until the discomfort of last night had worn off.

He just wanted to be alone.

He managed to accomplish that goal for most of the rest of the weekend. Erin called Sunday morning and was evasive, saying she had papers to grade and wasn’t sure if she had time to see him. But because he was flying out again Monday morning, they made plans to have dinner together that night.

Across the table at Mattito’s, a Tex-Mex place near Erin’s apartment, he was relieved to find that the anxious edge between them had softened somewhat—she seemed as eager as he was to forget about Friday. They sat out on the patio with a couple of beers and shared their usual order of Bob Armstrong dip before their entrees arrived, talking about work and friends and the upcoming week as if nothing had happened. When he dropped her off at her place after dinner, he got out and walked with her to her door. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her body go slack against his, like she’d expended her very last bit of energy having dinner with him.

“I’m going to miss you this week,” he said.

She looked up at him, her eyes unreadable. “I miss you already.”

She stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Without another word she released her arms from his neck and turned, sliding her key into the lock, opening the door, and disappearing inside.

* * *

Before he knew it, Monday arrived, bringing with it the not unpleasant promise of a mind-numbingly grueling week. When the buzz of his alarm pierced into his consciousness, Noah rolled over with a groan and grappled for the snooze button, still exhausted. He groaned again when he realized he had no choice but to drag himself out of bed and hurry into the shower. He was out the door twenty minutes later, his rolling suitcase in one hand and Amos’ leash in the other. He had to swing by the kennel and then rush out into morning traffic to make his 8:00 a.m. flight.

Once inside the terminal and through the security line, he glanced at his watch. Traffic into DFW had been lighter than usual this morning, so his mad rush hadn’t been necessary—he still had thirty-five minutes to kill before he had to be at his gate. He popped into Starbucks for a cup of coffee and then decided to hit the newsstand to pick up a paper to read on the plane. He scanned the offerings and reached down to snag a copy of
The Wall Street Journal
from the pale wood shelves. As he straightened back up, he accidentally knocked into the arm of a thin, auburn-haired woman in a navy-blue pantsuit who was standing at a rack behind him. A spurt of coffee sloshed through the opening in the top of his cup and splattered onto his newspaper. Meanwhile, the book the woman had just picked up flew out of her hand, landed with a loud thwack, and skidded across the floor. It stopped beside his right foot.

“Whoops, I’m sorry.” He flashed an apologetic smile and bent down to pick it up.

“That’s okay. It didn’t hurt.” She grinned back and reached out to take the novel from his outstretched hand.

All at once, he realized what he was holding. His breath stuck in his throat, and he didn’t release his grip on the book.
Amelia’s
book.

“Are you all right?”

The woman’s head cocked to one side as she watched him, both of them now holding the book. Noah realized it wasn’t the same one he’d found at Erin’s apartment, though its steel-gray cover looked similar. He remembered that the back cover of the book he’d seen said she was the author of three best-selling novels.

He released his grip with a sheepish look.

“Yeah, uh, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“You can have it if you want it. There’re more.”

She gestured to a tall, narrow rack beside them, one entire side of which was devoted to a splashy display of Amelia’s novels. He stared at them, dumbfounded, and the woman winked.

“You should read them. They’re good.”

She smiled at him again before turning to take her book to the register.

He remained frozen in place, the woman already forgotten. He studied the shelves, noting three different titles in what was obviously a series. Two were available in hardback and paperback, and a third was in hardback only—
It must be new
, he thought idly. He glanced down at the dripping paper in his hand and then back up at the books.

Should he?

How could he not?

He blotted at the paper with his Starbucks napkin and then turned to the shelves to grab a copy of each book, striding over and dropping the entire load onto the checkout counter before he could think too hard about what he was doing. His heart pounding, he made the purchase and stuffed the books into his carry-on bag. Outside the store, he dropped the ruined newspaper into a recycle bin and headed toward his gate.

He forced himself to wait until the plane was in the air before sliding the first book in the sequence out of the bag he’d shoved under the seat in front of him. Within minutes, he was fully absorbed, lost instantly and completely in the world born out of Amelia’s imagination.

Upside-Down and Inside-Out

Amelia, still September (two weeks later)

“Amelia!”

She spun on her two-inch, strappy-sandaled heel in search of the frantic voice. She heard it again, closer this time, drenched in relief.

“Amelia! There you are.”

Amber Carter was rushing toward her through the fellowship hall of the church, her tea-length silver dress swishing around her legs. She stopped two feet away, breathless.

“Did you find it?”

Amelia had been combing the church’s downstairs maze of rooms for Reese’s digital camera, which had gone missing ten minutes earlier when the bridal party was herded upstairs for pre-wedding photos. She and her fellow bridesmaids had passed the camera around all afternoon, documenting every significant moment of this significant day, which was drawing quickly to its climax.

Amelia held up one hand, the camera’s light-gray strap dangling from her index finger.

“Whew,” Amber said. She grabbed Amelia’s other hand and tugged. “Come on. They’re ready for us.”

Amelia trailed Amber into the petite but picturesque sanctuary of the United Methodist Church of Girard. The worn-wood pews with their blue velvet cushions, the frayed hymnals, even the musty, institutional smell took her instantly back in time. It was the church where Reese’s family—and Noah’s family—had attended services throughout her childhood. It was also the church where Reese’s wedding ceremony was set to take place in just over an hour.

She drew in a sharp breath, closed her eyes. When she opened them, she scanned the familiar room for her best friend and found her behind the last row of pews looking calm and happy, the picture of the radiant bride. The other bridesmaids—two colleagues from Reese’s firm, two college friends, and Reese’s cousin Amber, who’d rushed on ahead—were standing nearby, fussing over her. As Amelia watched, one girl straightened her veil and another worked her way down the center aisle, fluffing the white tulle bows tied onto the ends of each pew. She smiled to herself. Reese hated those bows. They’d been her mother’s idea, and she’d tried like hell to talk her out of them.

She turned on the camera and snapped some shots of the last-minute frenzy of action.

A few seconds later, the professional photographer hustled into the sanctuary and herded everyone toward the altar. While he did his work, Amelia—the maid of honor—did hers. She arranged Reese’s train, held the bouquet, and smiled when directed. Her mind, though, was a million miles away. She couldn’t believe this day was finally here. As Reese’s life had spiraled toward this moment, her own life had spun completely out of control.

She’d flown in straight off a book signing stop in Seattle. She’d meant to work a break in around Reese’s wedding, but her schedule had been shifted and bunched in a million ways to accommodate all the things warring for space in her life right now: her deadline, her publicity tour, the web conference…and Colin’s visit to Memphis, which required less secrecy now that their faces were splashed across every tabloid in the grocery store lineup.

She cringed, remembering the morning she’d made that discovery.

It had happened the day after she returned home from Austin. Reese was first to see the news, in a tweet from a celebrity gossip website. Not three minutes after Amelia answered Reese’s call—while she was still scrolling open-mouthed through the online photos and trying not to scream—Nina beeped in, demanding confirmation. There was no point denying it. The pictures left no room for doubt. Barely containing her glee, Nina took the news in stride and went straight to work figuring out how to spin it. She’d had her suspicions, anyway.

After hanging up the phone, Amelia’s mind danced in circles. Who else had seen the pictures? Had Colin seen them yet? Had…

Oh, God.
Had Noah seen them? She realized he probably knew by now about her books. But until that moment, there’d still been doubt. There’d still been a chance he hadn’t read them, a chance he hadn’t made the connection. Until that moment, she’d been able to stick her head in the sand and not worry about it.

Her cheeks flamed against her will, her head dropping into her hands. Noah was going to know. He was going to see the pictures, he was going to read the books, and he was going to know. And what the hell could she do about it?

Nothing.
There was nothing she could do about it and there was nothing she should
do about it. She had Colin now.

Colin!

Shit. She had to call Colin. And, oh no…Brooke! She jumped up from her chair and fumbled for her phone. She scanned her contact list so fast she kept clicking the wrong names—she had to hang up twice and try again. Her mom couldn’t hear this news from someone else. She’d never forgive her.

Brooke picked up after five agonizing rings.

“Um, Mom?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong?” Amelia smiled in spite of herself at the instant panic. So typical.

“Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Mel, what is
wrong
?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mom. I just don’t want you to freak. And I don’t want you to get mad.” She paused.

“Spit it out. Now.”

“Okay. I’ve, well, I’ve kind of been seeing someone, kind of for a while now. And, well, I just wanted this to come from me, because you’re going to hear it from someone.”

“Oh…kay.” Brooke’s voice was calmer now, but bewildered. “So you have a boyfriend. That’s great news. It’s about time.”

“Yeah…that’s not really it. It’s that, this guy I’m dating? It’s Colin Marks.” She paused again. “You know, the actor? And the paparazzi’s caught wind of it…”

There was such a long stretch of silence that Amelia started to think the call had dropped. As she pulled the phone away to check, Brooke’s shriek pierced straight into her eardrum.

“
You’re what?
You are dating
Colin Marks
, the
actor
, and you
didn’t tell me?
What kind of a daughter
are
you?”

She pulled the phone farther from her ear and cringed. Yeah, that was pretty much what she’d expected. As soon as she could get a word in edgewise, she tried to force her way off the phone. Brooke refused to let her hang up until she told her she hadn’t talked to Colin yet and had to call him right that second—and bribed her by promising to call back immediately with the whole story.