Perfectly Scripted (34 page)

The moment we landed at the private airport. I turned my phone back on.

RONAN: I love you. Have a wonderful weekend with your family.

At the realization that he had remembered this weekend, I clutched my phone to my chest. I loved him too. I missed him like crazy. I’d thought a lot about what both Charlotte and Tinley had said during the flight, and they weren’t completely off base. My problem was that I didn’t know how to forgive Ronan and trust him again. Was it possible I was being too hard on him? On us?

My problems would have to be put on hold, because this was Perry’s weekend. A time for celebration. And it had been way too long since I’d been home. I couldn’t wait to see the neighborhood, spend some time with Mom and old friends.

Just as I’d expected, our mother had pulled out all the stops for Perry’s party. It was no small affair; it might as well have been sponsored by Moët & Chandon.
Maybe it was.

And the gift bags were Emmy worthy—an assortment of beauty products, a package of spa treatments from the Four Seasons, Italian chocolates, a bottle of white wine from Charlemagne Winery, Motorola smartphones, and lounge pants from Charlotte’s collection.

Thankfully, Mom was too busy playing gracious hostess to grill me about Ronan not being there. After dinner, I found myself wandering down the hallway on the main floor and out to the pool. The sun was starting to dip under the horizon, and the sky was a beautiful dark blue kissed with hints of orange and yellow.

“So this is where you’re hiding out.”

I turned around and found my mother crossing the courtyard, looking elegant wearing a fit and flare, white dress paired with black strappy heels.

“I’m not hiding, Mom,” I lied. “I just needed some salty fresh air.”

“You were never a very good liar, Holliday.”

“I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Charlotte told me you and Ronan had a fight and that you are contemplating ending things with him.”

Fucking Charlotte and her big mouth.
No point in avoiding the conversation.

“It’s true,” I sighed, staring at the ocean. “He kept something from me, something huge. Aside from that, it was something I specifically told him to let go. But he went ahead and tried to rectify the situation anyway, despite my request.”

“I see,” she replied as her hand stroked through my hair. “In my experience, men, especially powerful men, often accept control of all situations. Good and bad. You’re an asset to him—an investment.”

A shiver curled through me at hearing those exact words Derek had said to me years ago. I cringed at the thought of my mother suggesting that I was property, that Ronan somehow also viewed me in the same light.

“That sounds incredibly sexist.”

She
tsk
ed. “Let me select a better choice of words. You’re important to him. More than likely, Ronan thought what he was doing was for the best. My feeling is that he was protecting you.”

Protecting me. That was becoming a theme.

I turned to face my mother. “I don’t see how he thought his decision was for the best when he knew it would piss me off.”

She nodded. “That’s a man for you,” she laughed, rolling her diamond pendant between her fingers.

I hung my head, expelling a deep sigh. “So, what? Am I just supposed to forgive Ronan because he thought what he was doing was for the best? Even though he disregarded my feelings outright?”

Guests filtered outside, mingling around the outdoor kitchen and seating area by the stone fireplace. A server approached us, and my mother lifted two glasses of champagne off the silver tray.

“Not entirely,” she said with a soft, sweet smile. “It all comes down to whether or not you love him enough to forgive him.”

I took the drink from her hand, swallowing a few sips before answering. “That’s pretty vague advice, Mom. This is more complicated than that.”

“Not really. It’s simple and straightforward,” she countered. “And, my dear, real love is
never
complicated.”

My face scrunched. I couldn’t wait to hear where this was going. “Care to elaborate?”

“A complicated relationship is one with filled with questioning and fueled more by drama. If you find yourself making excuses about your relationship to friends or constantly justifying why the relationship isn’t ideal, that also makes it arduous.”

Everything my mother had said made logical sense. Ronan and I had had our fair share of “drama” with Heather, Grady, and even rumors, but we’d managed to be honest with one another. With all of those factors, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he hadn’t talked to me about his issue with Derek.

My mom’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Do you see what I am saying, darling?”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” I nodded. “If it’s love it should be easy.”

She let out a laugh. “Darling, I said love was simple, not easy.”

A few partygoers approached. After she’d introduced me, Mom asked if they were able to stay for cake. They declined and apologized for whatever good reason they had. When the last couple stepped away, Mom flagged down Andrea and instructed that the cake be brought out to the patio area in five minutes.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked her once we were alone.

“Always.”

“Promise me you will give me an honest answer?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Do you think you and Dad had real love?”

She let out a deep sigh. “I loved your father very much, and I believe he loved me. However, I don’t think he trusted in our love. Otherwise, he would have known that I would have helped him—for richer or poorer.” She gave me a small smile. “Your father led me to believe everything would always work out, and I was naïve enough to believe him. Jay never wanted to burden me with worry. Especially about things that he felt were his responsibility as a husband and father.”

“If he were still alive”—I swallowed hard—“do you think you would have forgiven him?”

Taking my hand in hers, she replied, “I already have.”

Ronan

“Man, you look like shit.”

I took a seat across from my longtime friend, Matthew Barber, who was ever so polite with his compliments. He was tall, slightly more than six feet, and muscular—his tattoo took up most of his left bicep.

“Piss off,” I grumbled, scrubbing my hands down my face.

He laughed and settled back into his chair. After a long weekend of not hearing from Holliday and our filming being delayed because of weather, I’d had to get out of the house. So there I sat on a dreary Monday afternoon, ordering a whiskey and a basket of boneless wings. Matthew suggested extra hot sauce, but I declined. He was from the South and put that shit on everything.

“How many times are you going to tap the screen, Connolly?”

“What?” I asked, turning my gaze to the baseball game on TV.

“Your phone,” he replied, jutting his chin.

Our server, Ginny, arrived with our drinks, and I downed the whole thing before Matthew took his first sip. I called Ginny back over to the table, handed her my credit card, and told her to charge me for a bottle. She hurried back to the bar, her red ponytail swaying back and forth like a pendulum inside a grandfather clock. Then all I could see was Holliday’s body sashaying away from me in that sexy way I loved entirely too much.

Fuck, I missed her.

I signed for the bottle of Jameson 18 and shoved the card back into my money clip. Then I splashed more amber liquid into the tumbler and proceeded to slam it back. The liquid burned all the way down to my stomach.

“Man, you should be on cloud nine. You fucking landed the Van Wyk picture.”

“I did, and I’m elated,” I said, faking a smile.

“Well, then I guess the rumor in the tabloids is true.” He said, adjusting his Yankees ball cap.

“What rumor?” I asked, lifting the glass to take another drink.

Shifting to sit up straight, Matthew pointed a finger at me. “The one about how you and Holliday are over.”

I swirled the whiskey in my glass before taking another long sip. “We’re
not
over. I went and fucked things up, but I am determined to make it up to her.”

Matthew grinned. “Speaking of fucking things up, I’d like to anger-bang our waitress. Think I have a shot with Ginny?”

“What do you have to be angry about?”

He drank a sip of beer, savoring the taste before swallowing. “Nothing. She just reminds me of a bitch model I was once screwing on a regular basis.”

“Well, then go screw the bitch model, not that fine thing,” I scoffed.

He glanced at me, cocking an eyebrow. “I was only joking. I don’t have it in me to be that kind of asshole.”

I laughed. “You are sort of an asshole,” I said as my finger traced the rim of my glass.

“I know you’re hurting, man. And judging by your appearance, I suspect that you haven’t slept or had a solid meal in days.”

I pinched my brow and I exhaled deeply. “I love her, and every day I spent with her…I fell in love with her over and over again.”

“Jesus, Connolly,” he huffed. “Look, I feel like a giant pussy talking about this flowery relationship stuff, but if it’s any consolation, when I saw the two of you together a few weeks ago at Ella’s party, I could tell she was the one for you.”

I loved her. Christ, without question, she was the one for me. And it was killing me to hear Matthew’s words, how they could provide comfort yet sting at the same time.

“Fuck,” I growled, slamming my fist on the wooden table.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Matthew held my gaze. “So, Connolly, what are you going do about it?”

Before I could answer, Ginny dropped our wings off with a bottle of hot sauce.

“I’m hopeful, but I think it might be too late,” I said, shaking my head. “Holliday hasn’t called or texted me. It’s been nearly two weeks.”

“Man, it’s never too late,” he said before dipping a french fry in the ketchup. “It’s time for your Hail Mary pass.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“The grand gesture,” he said, spreading his arms wide.

“Propose to her?”

“No. Despite the fact that women love jewelry, she will hate that. She’ll kick you in the balls for sure. You said you were determined, so quit moping and go win her back.”

He was right. I’d told Holliday that losing her was not an option. So I swiped the screen on my phone and typed a message.

ME: I need to see you. I miss you so much. Can we please talk?

This was the first time in two weeks I’d asked anything of her. And as if this were some cheesy, predictable rom-com, her response was almost immediate.

HOLLIDAY: Yes. I miss you too.

The rush of relief came quickly, and my head fell back against the wooden booth. The dark clouds looming outside still remained, but the ones hovering over my head parted, and that glimmer of hope shined through.

“Good news?” Matthew asked before adding more hot sauce to his wings.

“Yes, very good news,” I said, pushing to my feet. “She wants to talk, and…she misses me.”