Whitney G. - Take Three -

Take Three: A Romantic Comedy (The Jilted Bride Series) Whitney Gracia Williams

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author ’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2012 by Whitney Gracia Williams http://www.whitneygracia.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. Cover photo by Tim Simpson www.timsimpsonphotography.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my mother, Lafrancine Maria Bond Edwards. Thank you for always believing in my dreams. You have no idea how much that means to me. I love you.

Acknowledgments: Jennifer Williams, you are still the best sister in the world. Fred Jones, thank you for reading another book, even though you severely limited how many questions I could ask. :-) Alonna Grigsby, sorry this was published later than I originally planned, but hey, at least it didn’t interfere with your exams :-). Tamisha Joiner, thanks so much for critiquing the opening chapters—I think the changes you suggested helped to make this a much better book. Tiffany Downs, thank you for your help with the initial character introductions, hopefully they’re much clearer now. Ciara Walton, I’m really sorry this book is about Selena Ross and not Melody Carter LOL. Nadira Williams, thanks for being the only one who actually listened to the plot before this was released, even though you made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want to :-). To my little brothers, Jay Williams and Ray Edwards II, thanks for keeping my spirits up and listening to me ramble about this book until 4 am every night. My parents, William R. Edwards and LaFrancine Maria Bond Edwards, thanks for respecting “my zone” another month—I will try to get a real job now :-). Thanks to the late Nora Ephron, whose romantic comedy films I’ve watched over and over. Thanks to You’ve Got Mail and Sweet Home Alabama for inspiring this storyline. Thanks to my former writing professor, Leslie Rubinkowski, whose lessons I continue to incorporate into my work. Thanks to Aster Teclay, Ashley Warren, Tanisha Hill, Sherbrina Shepherd, Christina Royster, Courtney Johnson, Angelica Harris (I’ll trust my first instincts next time, I promise), and Karleic Ellison for being great inspirations from afar :-). Thanks (SO MUCH) to every single reader who read Take Two. You all inspire me to keep writing :-). Thank you to all my friends and family. I love you all.

Before Take Three, there was Take Two…

Melody Carter is New York’s harshest movie critic, but she’s always had a soft spot for romantic comedies—especially the ones where the “groom to be” ends up leaving his “bride to be” at the altar for the “real love” of his life. Unfortunately, at her own wedding, the three hundred thousand dollar wedding of her dreams, she finds herself playing the very character she never thought twice about: the jilted bride. Hurt and confused, she seriously doubts she’ll ever find love again. Will a chance encounter with an unlikely suitor erase her doubts? Matt Sterling is Hollywood’s latest heartthrob. He’s sexy, charming, and hopelessly stuck in a “staged for the paparazzi” relationship with fellow A-list actress Selena Ross. Although all of America loves him, and studios are waiting in line to cast him in their movies, he can’t seem to shake the incessant negative reviews from New York’s most lauded critic, Melody Carter—the woman who singlehandedly influences New York City's box office. Angered by her most recent review, he storms her office and finds a lot more than what he bargained for.

Table of Contents: Copyright Dedication Acknowledgments Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Final Take Excerpt



I was almost married to “Hollywood’s sexiest heartthrob.” I was almost a part of the hottest celebrity pair the world had ever seen. I was almost Mrs. Selena Sterling…

Chapter 1 Selena Annoyed and angry, I crossed my arms and tried not to scream. I was sitting in my dressing room, on my wedding day, listening to the groom break things off with me. He paced the room as he talked, wiping tears of frustration from his face. Once he was done babbling, he sat down across from me and reached for my hand. “I really should have let you go a long time ago Selena,” he said. “I’m sorry that I ever allowed you to manipulate me into this ridiculous charade, but this is it. It’s over. I don’t love you. I don’t like you. And I can’t stand you. We need to tell everyone this whole thing was a hoax because I’m not marrying you today.” “But why now, Matt? Why did you wait until our actual wedding day to break this to me?” He shook his head. “I think I’ve made it perfectly clear that I couldn’t stand you for the past few months. This isn’t new and you know it.” “You’re just nervous, Matt. Go drink some water and go to the altar before people start talking. All the press we get from this will be great for you too,” I turned away from him and looked at myself in the mirror. “Or have you forgotten that?” “I fell in love with someone.” I whipped my head around. “What? Who?” “Melody Carter.” A nobody? A non-celebrity? “The writer? The one that’s supposed to be writing about our wedding?” “Yes,” his eyes seemed to light up. “I’m in love with her and if I go through with this wedding she probably won’t ever talk to me again…I’m not risking that, so—” “So all the time I’ve put into making our staged-relationship work is going down the drain? Just like that?” “I guess so,” he shrugged. “What do you want to tell the press? We need to figure out whatever it is soon. I need to get to the real love of my life.” My head was spinning. I couldn’t believe he was stepping out on me—not that we were really together to begin with, but my lifelong dream of getting married to someone famous was falling apart right in front of me. I knew that he didn’t like me, that he literally loathed my company, but us being together (staged or not) was what was best for our careers. We were the hottest celebrity couple in the world, and I couldn’t believe he was willing to throw that away for some nobody. “You’re not leaving me Matt,” I snapped. “You’re going to marry me today and that’s a fact. You and I will get divorced after seventy two days, and then you can go be with whatever her name is. Oh, and we’ll definitely need to confirm that I miscarried on our honeymoon. I’m getting tired of wearing that prosthetic baby bump; it makes me itch.” “Do you think I’m joking? It’s over. Accept it,” he stood up and headed for the door. He’d never acted like this before. He usually just sighed and reluctantly agreed to do whatever I

wanted, but he was completely different today. He didn’t even look back. “Stop! Matt! Stop!” I ran to the door and stood in front of it. “I understand…I really do. The guy I’m dating isn’t a fan of our pseudo-relationship either, but he understands why it has to be done. Can’t you see? I’m still here for you and I’m still willing to marry you. Do you know how much bad press we could get over something like this?” “Selena, I don’t care about bad press. Move away from the door.” I sighed. “You may not care about bad press, but I do! I’m America’s Sweetheart! Telling everyone that our engagement was a hoax might land me amongst the B-list stars! I’m an A-lister! I have two Emmys! Two!” “Please get away from the door,” he reached behind me and twisted the handle. “Don’t make me pick you up and move you myself.” “Wait! Just hear me out for old times’ sake, for the times when you used to actually like me,” I waited for him to step back. “If you really don’t care about bad press then I think there’s a way we can fix this without telling anyone it was a hoax.” He crossed his arms. “You have ten seconds.” I zipped up my ninety thousand dollar wedding gown and waltzed around my bedroom. The iridescent gems that sat atop the sweetheart neckline and the crushed crystals that clung to the corset still sparkled in the sunlight. The ornate organza waves that billowed from the skirt seemed to float with every step I took. After circling my room, I plopped down on my bed and watched my failed wedding to Matt Sterling for the umpteenth time: The venue, the Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers, was adorned with thousands of orange sonata lilies and red baccara roses. Swarovski crystallized light boxes hung from the exposed wooden ceiling, silky white drapes flowed down to the red carpet, and right outside the lighthouse—hundreds of floating candles bearing our initials waded in the Hudson River. As I walked down the aisle, the hand crafted diamonds in my lacy vintage veil gleamed. My make-up, applied by renowned artist Gucci Westman, was utter perfection and flawlessly complemented my sleek and curly up-do. Matt smiled as I approached him, putting his sexy charm on display as the cameras panned over his gorgeous face. His dark and smoldering eyes didn’t show the slightest hint of sadness, even though I knew that being at our wedding was the last place he wanted to be. We looked into each other ’s eyes as Stevie Wonder serenaded us with “Ribbon in the Sky,” as the pastor recited words of wisdom, and as his mom lit the eternity candle. It looked like we were really in love, like we really believed it was the happiest day of our lives. The pastor smiled and looked directly into the camera before addressing me. “Selena Ross, do you take Matt Sterling to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?” “I do,” I beamed at Matt.

“Matt Sterling, do you take Selena Ross to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for —” “No. I’m sorry. Just stop,” he sighed. “I can’t marry you, Selena.” The pastor shut the Bible and quickly stepped away from us both. There were loud gasps and groans from the celebrity-filled audience: “Oh my god!” “What did he say?” “Is this really happening?” And then there was silence. Deafening silence. The OWN network’s cameras panned over my face—watching, waiting for me to say something. “Excuse me?” I dropped my bouquet. “What did you say?” “I can’t marry you. I can’t do this…I don’t want to be with you anymore,” he looked relieved, like he’d been waiting to say those words forever. I nodded my head and glared at him, looking him up and down. I drew back my hand and slapped him as hard as I could. I paused the DVD. That was the part that got me every time. Every. Single. Time. It was the “slap heard ‘round the country,” and thanks to that incident, I was on top of the world. I was soaking up the sorrows and sympathies from fans and media outlets worldwide. I was being mentioned in nearly every paper, gracing the covers of the most popular magazines. All the headlines were in my favor: “Selena Left at the Altar: How Matt Betrayed Her Trust,” “Selena Ross in Deep Depression, Miscarries Baby,” “How Will Selena Move On?” “Selena’s Pain: Every Woman’s Worst Nightmare.” I was doing interviews on all the hottest shows—crying and relaying how I felt when he left me at the altar. I even did a separate special with the OWN network, a segment that featured women who were unexpectedly ditched by their fiancés. Everything in my life was going perfectly. Until now. Supposedly. My publicist Katy had called and said she had some really bad news, news that was “so bad” she needed to come over and talk about it. Of course, in her world of over-exaggerations, a low earning movie at the box office qualified as bad news so I wasn’t really worried—just annoyed. As I was rewinding the best part of the wedding, my personal assistant wandered into my bedroom without knocking and dropped my breakfast onto the floor. I sat up and saw that my favorite crystal plates and glasses were now useless shards. “Really Samantha?” I glared at her. “Those dishes cost more than you’ll make this year! Why didn’t you knock?” “I’m so sorry Miss Ross,” she whimpered. “I’ll be right back.” Ugh. What a waste! Maybe I need a new assistant… Ten minutes later, she walked into my room at a snail’s pace and set my breakfast on the table. She avoided my eyes and took her time pouring the juice. “Thank you Samantha,” I rolled my eyes and shooed her away. “Find out who made the shoes Carrie Underwood was wearing last night and order me a pair in every color.” “Yes, Miss Ross.” I sliced the crepe in half and dipped it in yogurt, my favorite thing to eat. Whenever reporters asked

what my favorite food was, I always lied and said “spinach and ricotta gnudi” or something else Italian. I wanted all my fans to think I actually knew the intricacies of fine food. “Selenaaaa!” Katy’s high pitched voice bounced off my apartment’s walls. “I’m back here!” “I got here as fast as I could,” she rushed into my room and plopped down on the sofa. “And you didn’t have time to change clothes?” I looked over her tacky yellow pajamas. “Never mind, don’t answer that. I’m actually glad you’re here in person. Is there any way I could not go to that charity thing tonight? I don’t feel like playing with dirty little kids. They creep me out.” “You might want to stick to all charitable events from now on. It might be good for your image.” “My image? I’m a saint. I was left at the altar eight weeks ago. Or did you forget that already?” If she did, she’s fired… She slid me a large manila envelope and sighed. “Us Weekly is releasing the photos tomorrow. They were nice and decided to give you one day’s notice.” “Is this about me eating McDonald’s instead of Burger King? I already apologized to—” I pulled out the first picture and gasped. I flipped through the entire packet. Everything was in chronological order and it was definitely me in the photos. They were all crystal clear. “Like I was saying,” Katy shook her head, “you may want to go through with the charity event tonight. Then I need you to disappear for at least six weeks.” “Six weeks? Are you kidding me?” “No. You really fucked up,” she suddenly looked angry. “I’ll do as much damage control as I can, but Selena Ross caught kissing her last director days before her wedding and at least once a week since? That’s going to be one hell of a fire to put out.” Sure it is… “What’s the big deal? I needed someone to comfort me.” “A married man with three kids? A married high profile director with three kids?” her face started to turn red. “And of all high profile directors, you chose to have an affair with Phillip Hartford? You could have at least told me! We could’ve dealt with this a long time ago! I don’t know why you insist on making my job more difficult than it already is! I—” I stopped listening. I seriously doubted anyone would care about my so called “affair.” No one would honestly believe that I was capable of doing such a thing. Sure, it looked bad, but there was much more to the story than some privacy-invading photos. Phillip and I were in an actual relationship and he’d told me he was in the middle of a lengthy divorce. Katy was overreacting as usual. She always seemed to underestimate the power of me being “Selena Ross” and I was beyond tired of that. She was always double checking my personal tweets, making my small interview slip-ups into huge ordeals, and diving into damage control mode over the most harmless incidents. She also refused to accept the indisputable fact that I was “America’s Sweetheart,” meaning that people would always believe the best news, not the worst news.

And she has the audacity to be in my presence while wearing a set of SpongeBob pajamas? Ugh! I think I need a new publicist… “What do you want me to do for six weeks?” I decided to entertain her ridiculous rant. “Camp out here?” “I want you to go home. I want you to be with your friends and family while I clean up this mess.” “Home? As in Fayetteville, Arkansas?” “I thought you were from Texas! Isn’t that what you told your biographer last week?” “Texas? Arkansas? What’s the difference?” “Three hundred miles!” she clutched her chest. “Do I know anything truthful about you?” “I don’t want to go to this charity event tonight. That’s truthful.” “You’re going. Get your assistant to charter a jet for this weekend. I’m sure your family will be more than happy to see you.” I haven’t spoken to them in four years… “What about New Jersey?” I took out a bottle of nail polish. “Or the UK? I won’t draw too much attention to myself. I swear.” “Home, Selena. Since you’re not really from Texas, the paparazzi won’t know to go to Arkansas to look for you.” “What about—” “Home. Saturday. End of discussion.” Yeah…That’s definitely not happening…

Chapter 2 Ethan “And with that, ladies and gentlemen,” I lifted my champagne flute, “Autumn Wonder is officially on track to close this quarter with revenues of twelve billion!” The room erupted into loud cheers and claps. The sound of clinking champagne glasses and laughter sifted through the air as I stepped into the crowd. “Congratulations!” “Awesome!” “Take that, Starbucks!” my associates tugged me left and right. I smiled and shook hands with every person in sight, anxiously awaiting an opportunity to slip away to my office. People were starting to ask me pointless questions and initiate meaningless conversations. I wasn’t a fan of “small-talk” and I’d made sure that every employee at my Bostonbased headquarters knew that. Unfortunately, whenever I threw a party and provided alcohol, people seemed to forget. I shook a few more hands, accepted a few more compliments, and bolted towards an open elevator. I unlocked the door to my office and hit the lights. “Unbelievable year,” my best friend Barry shut the door and tossed me a ring box. “You sure about proposing tonight? Are you even in love?” Here we go with this “love” nonsense again… “I’m one hundred percent sure about proposing, Barry. Jade is smart, witty, and fun to be around. She fulfills every requirement on my checklist and she’s—” “Seriously?” he balked. “You’re seriously about to propose because of your stupid checklist?” “It’s not stupid, it’s safe. I don’t have to believe in love to believe that we’ll have a great future together. I really like Jade. A lot… Plus, my dad has a checklist and it works pretty well for him.” “Your dad is about to get divorced…for the fourth time,” he shook his head and headed for the door. “Are you coming back down to the party? The ice sculpting starts in ten minutes.” “Yeah, I’ll be down soon. I just need to make some calls,” I waited for him to close the door and fell back into my chair. Today was my twenty-eighth birthday, and although I was excited about my upcoming proposal and my company’s huge milestone, I couldn’t help but to remember how far I’d progressed over the past eight years, how it almost didn’t happen. Eight years ago, I was graduating early from Harvard and starting business school with a concentration in finance. On the first day of class, the professor gave us a fairly easy assignment: “Take a business, any current business, and come up with ways to make it better. Develop a new plan that will increase revenues and make the business more profitable.” While most of my classmates chose honorable things like nonprofit organizations, hospitals, and universities, I chose Starbucks. I took its existing business model and expanded it. I decided it made more sense to fit each one with a viable bakery—to cut off potential competition from Panera,

Dunkn’ Donuts, and any other pastry shop. I explained that every location would feature the same set of freshly baked goods, but each one would have its own specialty items that were specific to its region and locale. As I was giving an example of my overseas model, the professor cut me off. “Ethan Lockwood,” he held his stomach and laughed. “Are you telling me that out of all businesses to improve upon, you chose Starbucks?” “Yes sir. I really feel that—” “Mr. Lockwood, I would expect something like this from one of my undergraduate students,” he was still laughing, “not someone like you.” “I’m sorry sir. I don’t understand.” “Starbucks is a billion dollar company! They’re doing pretty well in my book. I don’t see how adding a bakery, changing the décor, and focusing on local items would benefit them at all.” “Sir I—” “You have forty eight hours to change your project. I expect something better. Who’s next?” I didn’t change my project. I dropped out. For over a year, I worked on my business model, rewriting it over and over until I was sure it was perfect. I sought out a few optimistic investors, purchased a small test shop on the outskirts of campus, and hired two employees. Within six months, my coffee shop—Autumn Wonder, earned a seventy thousand dollar profit. Over the years, the store expanded across the state, the country, and eventually overseas. It grew from being a multi-million dollar corporation to a multi-billion dollar corporation. In 2010, the year I decided to take a mental break from being CEO and went on an endless party binge —sleeping with endless women, traveling to a different country every week, and deliberately avoiding any real work, the board fired me from my own company. Barry cast the deciding vote. It took me a while to get over the heartbreak, to stop blaming everyone else for my mistakes, but I realized that I needed to get serious; that lots of people depended on me to make smart decisions, and the thought of trusting a womanizing and party prone CEO wasn’t the easiest to bear. When I did come back to the company—after promising the board I would change my ways and presenting them with an unparalleled expansion plan, I came back with a vengeance. By 2012, I’d expanded Autumn Wonder to more than sixty countries with over twenty one thousand retail stores, easily ousting Starbucks as the largest coffee shop in the world. I smiled at the memory and called my mother. “Is everything set up for tonight? Does it look Hawaiian themed?” “Sure does!” she practically screamed. “I’m so excited! My son is finally getting married!” I was convinced that no one in my family was more excited than my mom. She’d wanted me to find “someone special” and settle down years ago; back when settling down was the last thing on my mind.

“You remembered to leave out the chives in the dip display, right? You know—” “Jade is allergic, I know. Everything is perfect, Ethan! Let me and your grandmother work on the party and go enjoy your company’s big accomplishment. I’ll see you later tonight. Love you!” she hung up. I eyed the pretty picture of Jade that sat on my desk and grinned. She was standing in front of a large coconut tree and smiling her big infectious smile. Her strawberry blonde hair was loosely tousled past her shoulders and her skin was perfectly tanned from our most recent trip to Bora Bora. I told her that I’d booked a weekend villa for us in Hawaii and we were set to fly out tomorrow evening, but I left out the part where we would be staying in a customized “Just Engaged” suite. Sure, I wasn’t actually “in love”—I’d never understood that concept, but I had really strong feelings for her and she lined up with every requirement on my checklist. I didn’t think I needed to believe in the “love of my life” and “soul mate” stuff to believe in marriage. To me, marriage meant being with someone I sincerely trusted and admired for the rest of my life. It meant having a caring business partner. It was also a safety net, a necessary contract to protect my wealth after death, and a way to make sure my assets would be in good hands. Jade was a perfect match. Barry poked his head around my door. “Ethan, you’re missing the ice sculptures. You begged me to pay eighty grand for them. Don’t you want to at least see the investment?” “Right,” I stood up and followed him out. My mom and grandmother outdid themselves: Palm trees lined the backyard deck, six foot tiki torches burned orange and red fire throughout the yard, and dozens of exotic fruit displays sat on high wood tables. There were even women dressed in grass skirts and leis, serving frozen margaritas and umbrella drinks. Jade and I walked around the party hand in hand, kissing each other whenever we had a moment alone. After my grandmother finished performing her own interpretation of the hula dance, I squeezed Jade’s hand. “Jade, can I please talk to you for a minute?” “Of course,” she put down her pina colada and followed me inside. My family and friends quietly followed us into the living room, failing to convincingly hide behind the tall columns. “I know you’ve hated the long distance relationship we’ve had over the past two years, and I have too,” I said. “I want you to know that I finally listed my home for sale last week and I’m more than willing to move to Los Angeles to be with you.” She gasped. I got down on one knee and looked into her eyes. “For the past two years you’ve been my best friend and the woman I could always count on. You’re the most beautiful, talented, and ambitious person I know, and I’m happy to say that you are who I want to start my future with.” “Ethan…” she whispered.

“I don’t want to spend another day in separate cities, and I don’t want to go another hour without making you mine. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” “Ethan I—” “Say yes. Say yes first,” I smiled. “I—” “Marry me.” “I met someone else.” What did she say? “What?” I was pretty sure I didn’t hear her correctly. “I’m sorry,” she took a step back. “I didn’t know you were planning to propose…I thought we were just celebrating your birthday.” My friends and family let out a collective gasp. “You didn’t mention someone else when he was taking you to France, Italy, and Bora Bora every month!” my grandmother yelled. “Did you? Did you!” “Grams stop that,” I stood up. “Ask her why she never mentioned this when you were taking her on all those trips!” she shook her head and frantically motioned for everyone else to go back outside. Embarrassed, I tried to control my anger. “You met someone else? When were you planning to tell me?” “Tonight.” “On my birthday?” “Well technically, after your birthday…once you took me home. I’m so sorry, Ethan. You’re an amazing guy and I do love you, but not enough to marry you. I never really minded the long distance; it was you and all your checkpoints.” I can’t believe this…This is not happening to me… “Checkpoints?” I scoffed. “What are you talking about?” “When we first met, you were carefree and fun and just…different. Ever since you went back to Autumn Wonder—” “You’re blaming me for your infidelity? You’re joking, right?” “Ethan, I’m saying that over the past year, you’ve been more calculated and safe. And you grade everything! You graded my last Christmas present to you! What did you give it again? An eight out of ten?” Six out of ten… She sighed. “You started going through these little checkpoints like, Oh it’s been six months, time to meet each other ’s parents. It’s been eight months, time to go on a trip together. It’s been—” “Just stop,” I shut the ring box and put it back in my pocket. “I think I’ll take you home now.” “I still want to be friends, if that’s okay with you.” What! “Jade…” I balled my fists to prevent myself from exploding.

“Can we please be friends?” “Jade, you just dumped me on my birthday, in front of my whole damn family. I don’t think so. It’s getting late. Let me take you back to your hotel.” “I’m sorry…Can we still go to Hawaii tomorrow?” “What? No! Let’s go!”

Chapter 3 Selena “Samantha! Samantha!” I yelled. Why haven’t I fired her yet? I shouldn’t have to yell to get the attention of my “personal” assistant! She stepped into my bedroom. “Yes, Miss Ross?” “My water isn’t at room temperature. Does it feel like winter in my room?” “No...” “So why is there ice in my glass? Remake it and get me the latest Us Weekly.” “Yes, Miss Ross,” she walked away. I’ll fire her once she brings it back. I turned the TV on and flipped to the E channel. I wasn’t too worried about the so-called “scandalous” pictures, but I knew their coverage would be indicative of how the other news outlets would report them. “Good afternoon everyone, and thank you for watching E News!” Ryan Seacrest sat at the news desk in a dark gray suit. “Our top story of the day, of the year really, is Selena Ross and director Phillip Hartford! Us Weekly released the photos last night and both A-listers are in some very compromising positions! Here with the scoop is Us Weekly editor Shannon Mason. Good afternoon, Shannon.” “Good afternoon, Ryan!” she beamed. “Tell us, what exactly transpired over the past few weeks and how did you guys keep it under wraps for so long?” She clasped her hands together. “Well, we weren’t exactly sure what was going on at first. Our photographers happened to be taking some test shots at Gramercy Park and saw what appeared to be the two of them kissing on a bench.” A grainy picture of Phillip running his hands through my hair appeared on screen. Another picture, one of him lying on top of me, in the back seat of his convertible, appeared next. “Why didn’t you immediately release the photos?” Ryan asked. “We were trying to make sense of it. We knew it was sensitive information, so we decided to put a private team on them to see what was really going on.” “And you found that this was a full blown affair?” More images of Phillip and I floated across the screen—one of him applying sun lotion to my bare back, one of me leaning over to kiss him in my car, one of us frolicking in the ocean after dark. “Yes. Definitely,” the woman smiled into the camera. “Two months before her wedding to Matt Sterling is when this all started, at least that’s what we believe.” A clip of me slapping Matt at the wedding began to play over and over on the green screen behind the two of them. “Do you think that’s part of the reason why Matt left her at the altar?” Ryan raised his eyebrow. “Do you think he knew about this?” “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but sources tell me he was having doubts around that time.”

Ryan sighed. “Poor Matt Sterling! I guess we had it all wrong! We’ll be back to discuss more of Selena Ross’ scandalous affair after the break! Trust me, you don’t want to miss it!” I changed the channel. They were discussing my affair on “The View.” I changed the channel again. My picture was on “Good Morning America” and the host was shouting angrily into the camera. I turned the TV off and threw the remote across the room. I immediately googled myself and saw that every news article that popped up was about my alleged affair: “Selena Ross Not So Innocent After All,” “Selena Ross’s Newest Role: The Home-wrecker,” “Did Selena Ross Cheat on Matt Sterling Before Her Wedding?” “Selena Ross Caught with Older Director,” “Selena ‘Toss’-ing Tongues with Director Phillip Hartford, Cheated on Matt Sterling.” This isn’t even true! I needed to talk to someone. I needed someone to listen to me and be on my side. I called Phillip. It rang three times before he answered in a hushed whisper. “Are you free to talk right now?” I asked. “Not really,” he mumbled. “Say what you have to say quickly. My wife is on her way back.” “Did you mean what you said about leaving her? Now that everything is out in the open, when will your divorce be finalized? Can we be together now?” “Selena, it’s more complicated than that…I have kids.” “You said you would get them to understand. You said you loved me…Do you still love me?” “Selena,” he sighed and I heard a woman’s voice in the background. “Who is that on the phone?” Phillip immediately changed his tone. “No, Henry. I won’t be coming into work for a few months. I need to straighten some things out with my family.” He hung up and my phone vibrated. A text from him: “I don’t think we should talk for a while.” My heart dropped. I curled into a ball and tried not to cry. He and I were just having sex last week. He was just telling me how much he loved me, how much he wanted me to be his one and only. I honestly had no idea he was married when he first asked me out. I didn’t realize it until his wife stopped by the set one day and randomly struck up a conversation with me. When I questioned him about it, he assured me that they were “separated,” drafting out the final terms of their divorce, and only putting up a “front” for their children’s sake. I believed him because he called me every day, because he texted me all night, because whenever I asked him to come over, he was at my doorstep within minutes. He was the one who said “I love you” first, sliding a diamond promise ring on my finger as he said it. He was the one who said he would always be there for me, that he would always care. He promised—swore on a stack of Bibles, that he was in the process of divorcing her. He promised… I called Katy. “Katy, can you please book me for an appearance on “E News”? I want to set the record straight.” “That’ll only make things worse,” she sighed. “Have you actually seen Us Weekly?” “No. Samantha’s taking her precious time getting it to me.” “Well, they didn’t give us all the photos. There are some other ones they’ve printed and they’re not

explainable. At all. Please go home while I clean this up.” “I need to de-stress,” I wiped away a tear. “Do you think it would be okay for me to go to Rihanna’s party tonight?” “No.” “What am I supposed to tell Rihanna? This is the third time I’ve—” “Go home Selena!” she screamed. “Did you hang up on me? Hello?” Going home was not an option for me. I wanted to put it off for as long as possible, preferably never. The last memory I had of home was not a pretty one. Four years ago, I was a sophomore at the University of Arkansas, double majoring in drama and fashion. In between starring in local commercials and helping out at my mom’s bakery, I was submitting countless applications to modeling and acting contests—hopelessly wishing for a call back. The same day my cherry bourbon pie won top honors at the county fair, I received a call from Cover Girl cosmetics. They told me I was a finalist in their modeling competition and offered to fly me and my mother to New York City for a week long audition. I was ecstatic, thrilled. I knew I was one step closer to becoming the star I’d always wanted to be. I pictured the judges falling in love with me on the spot, the casting agents luring me away to Hollywood, and the critics declaring me the next Reese Witherspoon, Julia Roberts, or Sandra Bullock. My mother and I shopped for days—endlessly chatting about how we thought my audition would go, but the day we were supposed to fly out, she changed her mind. “I can’t go honey,” she said as she handed me her plane ticket. “Mom, the flight is in five hours! You promised!” “The waitress I left in charge of the bakery called and said she has a family emergency so—” “So what? Sweet Seasons can’t close for one week?” “It’s my only source of income, sweetheart. You know that new Starbucks has cost me a lot of sales recently…I would love to go there with you but—” “But your bakery is more important than your daughter?” “Stop being so dramatic,” she kissed my forehead. She continued talking about that bakery, how it was slowly starting to become profitable again, but I only caught tidbits here or there. I was too livid, too hurt, to focus on anything she was saying. This was my moment, my potential big break, and she was more concerned with cookies and pies—biscuits and coffee. What’s more was that this wasn’t the first time she’d done this to me: She’d missed all my performances at the university’s theater, all my commercial promo shoots, and all my modeling auditions for the past two years because of Sweet Seasons—because she “was the only one who could run the place right.”

She also had a horrible habit of telling me that she wouldn’t be able to come at the very last minute. Yet for some reason, I always got my hopes up; always thought that the next time would be the time she would actually make it, that the next time would be the time she wouldn’t let me down. “I want you to call me as soon as you get there,” she smiled. “I want you to take pictures and tell me everything because I know you’re going to win. Okay?” She stepped forward and reached for a hug, but I stepped back. “No. No, it’s not okay,” I held back tears. “Once again, you break your promise and you wait until the very last minute to tell me. This is—” “Selena, the waitress called two minutes ago! There’s no way I can—” “I don’t want to hear it,” I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door. “I’ll see you when I come back, if I come back.” “You don’t mean that,” she tried to give me a hug again but I shook out of her embrace and rushed out to my car. I knew I was being dramatic and that she really couldn’t afford to lose a week’s worth of business— she’d refinanced our house too many times to count, but I still wanted her to put me first for a change. I still wanted her to be there for me when I needed her, to finally stay true to her word. I decided to go where I could always find someone to be there for me: my boyfriend Taylor ’s house. Taylor was the star of the university’s football team. With him as quarterback, the team had gone undefeated for two years and won back to back Sugar Bowls. He was my first love—my middle school, high school, and college sweetheart. He was the only guy I’d ever kissed, the only guy I’d ever fallen for. He was also my voice of reason, and although he often sided with my mother ’s line of thinking, I could always depend on him to be there for me. I smoothed my hair as I approached his front door. Through the blinds, I could see my best friend Jessica talking to him and playfully rubbing his arms. I figured she was helping him with his coursework or telling him another one of her sarcastic jokes, but just as I was about to press the doorbell, I saw her lean over and kiss him on the lips. I didn’t see him pull away. I didn’t see him jerk back. I watched for two minutes as he pulled her into his lap and ran his fingers through her hair, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. I didn’t bother ringing the doorbell. I angrily pushed the door open. “What the hell are you doing, Jessica!” She moved away from him. “Selena—” “Save it,” I snapped. “How long has this been going on, Taylor?” “Selena,” he sighed. “I’m well aware of what my name is! Thank you both very much! How long have you two, the closest people in my life, been going behind my back?” They looked at each other. “No one has anything to say?” I could feel the tears falling down my face. “Suddenly you’re both speechless?” “Four months,” Jessica whispered. “I’m so sorry…”

Taylor looked at her and then at me with sympathetic eyes. He didn’t say a word. “Jessica,” I forced a lump back down my throat, “don’t ever speak to me again. I don’t ever want you to—” “Selena, wait!” she walked towards me. “I’m—” “Don’t you dare touch me! You’re dead to me!” I threw my promise ring at Taylor. “I hope you break your legs before the season starts and y’all lose every game.” I couldn’t depend on anyone to be there for me anymore. I left for New York City three hours later and never looked back. I sat up and tossed my phone across the bed. I wondered why I was thirsty and didn’t have a glass of water in my hand. “Samantha! Did you forget about the Us Weekly and my water?” I walked out of my room and into the living room. “Samantha!” She is definitely fired! I walked into the kitchen and saw a note on the counter: “I quit! Get your own stuff, bitch! PS. My name is Jasmine!”

Chapter 4 Ethan I needed to get away. Now. I was sitting in another boring board meeting, pretending to listen to facts and figures, pretending to seem interested in their incessant ramblings. I was still in shock that Jade had dumped me on my birthday. She was the first woman I’d ever felt close enough to propose to, and it took all of two years to get to that point. I’d done all the things necessary for our relationship to end in marriage, all the things my father taught me. I took her on trips all around the world, bought her whatever her heart desired, and measured her against my “ideal woman” checklist again and again: 1. She must be sexually attractive, emotionally-baggage free, and physically fit. If she lacks any of these qualities, it’s an automatic NO and there’s no need to consider any other checklist items. 2. She must not play hard to get. If she rejects me more than once, it’s an automatic NO. 3. She must be interested in another genre of movies other than romantic comedies. If she suggests that we go see a romantic comedy within the first three dates, she’s a fairy tale chaser and can’t be trusted. Automatic NO. 4. She must suggest something other than dinner for the first few dates. If she only shows an interest in being wined and dined, she’s a freeloader and it’s an automatic NO. 5. She must be a great conversationalist and reader. If she hasn’t read a significant number of the American and British Classics—specifically Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, and at least five Shakespearean works—it’s an automatic NO. 6. She must be willing to compromise on scheduled dates, trips, and future plans. She must also be considerate of my time, especially in the beginning of our courtship. For example, if she calls to cancel a date, and makes no immediate plans to reschedule it, she was never really worth my time and it’s an automatic NO. 7. She must be easy-going, non-confrontational, and allow me to set the pace of our relationship: fifteen introductory dates to gauge our conversation quality, seven trips to vacation spots to test our compatibility, and well, countless ways to make sure we’ll have a great sex life. 8. She must fit all of the above. NO EXCEPTIONS. I felt my checklist was necessary since I was a low-profile billionaire: I never went to parties, social mixers, or golf tournaments with the city’s elite. I hated being inundated with media requests, loathed the nosiness of the paparazzi, and hardly posed for pictures when I was being profiled for a magazine. I usually emailed the writer the same six year old photo of me standing beside my motorcycle. I preferred to simply write checks for whoever needed them and live my life in peace, even though it seemed like the high profile billionaires had all the fun. I didn’t want to revert to my partying ways, but I couldn’t fathom diving into the dating pool again. It was bad enough that I always had to take precautions with women: performing several background checks, hiding my real occupation for the first few dates, and having Barry secretly screen their credit

histories and financial accounts. I knew I didn’t want to end up alone, but I couldn’t see myself spending another two years searching for someone compatible with my checklist. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back to the company after all. Maybe I should have— “Is that okay with you, Mr. Lockwood?” my trust advisor cut through my thoughts. “What’s that?” “The plan? What we just suggested? Are you okay with that?” “Sure,” I shrugged. “I’m all for it.” “Alright,” he closed his folder. “Meeting adjourned. I’ll have your flight set up by the end of the week and—” “Whoa whoa whoa. My flight? To where?” The board members burst into laughter and shuffled out of the room without glancing in my direction. There was a knock at my door. “Come in!” “Good afternoon, Mr. Lockwood,” my executive assistant stepped inside. “Afternoon, Farrah. Let’s get these updates over with.” “Okay. Um…Well first, you were nominated for the sexiest CEO award and you placed first again. Will you actually be accepting the award this year?” Do I ever? “No. Did you get the transcript from this morning’s board meeting like I asked?” “Yes sir…” she toyed with a strand of her hair and looked down at the floor. “Can you summarize the notes so I can figure out what’s going on?” “Yes sir. There seem to be some problems with one of the Southern expansion sites. Revenues at this location are decent but they’re the lowest out of all our expansion sites.” “And?” “It’s the test store for the new Southern menu items,” she was speaking much slower than normal. “If we’re trying to have them solidified by the end of November, we’ll need to have at least fifty thousand customers’ votes by then. We don’t even have a tenth of that.” “What’s your point?” “The board thought we should send someone down there to really investigate what’s going on, kind of like an ‘Undercover Boss’ type thing so—” “Sounds great,” I started checking my email. “Tell the board to pick one of the high level interns and set up the flight arrangements by the end of the day. Then get me a strategy meeting with whoever they choose.” “The board chose you sir.” “What?” I glared at her. “I’m the CEO.”

“They figured that since you keep a low profile and never put your face on any of the company’s documents or websites, you would easily fit in and—” This is bullshit! This is clearly their way of letting me know that they haven’t forgotten about my exploits in 2010! I can’t believe them and their silly little idea. I refuse to do this. “Get Barry in here. Now.” She scuttled out of the room and within seconds Barry walked into my office. “Sorry I couldn’t make it last night,” he shut the door. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for Hawaii?” “Jade turned me down,” I opened a drawer and gave my stress ball a few squeezes. “She said she met someone else.” “Ouch…She really said that? At your birthday party?” I nodded and knocked her picture off my desk. “Well, this ought to cheer you up,” he pulled out a sheet of paper and slammed it on my desk. “You’re going to be on the cover of Fortune! You’re officially the entrepreneur of the year! And you’re doing this photo-shoot, whether you like it or not. What did you want with me anyway?” “I want to know why the board picked me to go down South to play undercover boss. I’m sure there were plenty of other alternatives.” “Beats me,” he smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Barry…” “Okay, okay. Well, I’m CFO and I had to go on an undercover assignment once, remember?” I tried to sort through my memories, but I hardly ever paid attention in board meetings, and the only undercover assignments I recalled were completed by groups of interns. I remembered him being in the hospital for three weeks when he went to our test store near the Chesapeake Bay, but I couldn’t remember what happened. “Umm,” I shrugged. “Vaguely.” “Do you remember me falling off a rig and getting stung by jellyfish? Ten jellyfish! Do you remember them stinging me on my ass? I couldn’t sit down for two weeks!” “You suggested this?” I leaned forward in my chair. “Is this your idea of revenge?” “One of them stung my face! I couldn’t eat anything! You should’ve seen how swollen my lips were! I could barely—” “You volunteered me didn’t you? Didn’t you!” “Yes! It was me!” I sighed. “Why are we still friends, Barry?” “Because I meet every requirement on your checklist,” he rolled his eyes. “Do you need an intern to help you pack?” “For a one-week trip? I think I’m more than capable of doing that myself. Thanks. North Carolina has nice stores, right? I’ll just buy whatever I forget.” “North Carolina? One week?” he bent over laughing. “The newest expansion site is in Fayetteville, Arkansas… And it’s a six week assignment.”

Chapter 5 Selena I was living in a nightmare. #Selenaisaslore, #SelenaRosssucks, and #shedidn’tdeserveMatt were all trending on Twitter. I’d officially broken the record for the most mentions in seventy two hours. The late night TV hosts were brutal. The tabloids, blogs, and former friendly presses were dissecting every moment of my affair with Phillip—comparing our body language on set, deciphering our past interviews, and creating storylines for each and every scandalous picture. There were numerous paparazzi camped outside my condo, and every couple hours I could hear them shouting, begging for me to make an appearance. I tried to keep my mind off things by drinking old wine and watching a slew of romantic comedies —Runaway Bride, Sleepless in Seattle, How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days—but it was no use. Each time a new set of credits rolled, I remembered I was stuck in reality and almost everyone in America hated me. What’s worse was that not a single person had called to see how I was doing, how I was coping. I’d wasted countless hours staring at my phone, wondering when someone, anyone, would think to check on me, but my phone never rang. Still, even though he’d sent me that dismissive text, I knew that Phillip would call to talk to me eventually. I knew he would say he was going to sort things out with the media and come to my defense, and that those divorce papers he’d told me about would be finalized any day now. I kept replaying our “affair” over and over in my mind, hoping that by the end of the week the public would know how it really happened… A few months ago, I was sitting alone in my trailer, rehearsing my lines and wishing that the production break would end at any moment. Since I’d fired my latest assistant hours earlier, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I picked up my phone and called Matt Sterling. “Hello?” he answered in that I’m-only-answering-because-this-might-be-the-call-telling-me-thatyou’ve-died tone. “What do you want Selena?” “I just realized that we don’t hang out anymore, Matt! We used to be such good friends before we got engaged! Don’t you want to come to my set and eat lunch with me? Don’t you want to catch up?” “No. I don’t.” “Matt, please! I’m really lonely…” “I don’t care,” he huffed. “Is that the only reason you called me?” “No, I really want to talk to you in person…I want to go over a few wedding ideas with—” “Selena, we’ve been through this. I’m only hanging out with you once a week, in full view of the paparazzi, until the wedding. I’m sorry you’re lonely, but…I can’t be your friend right now,

especially since you’ve threatened to ruin my career with a stupid domestic violence story if I don’t go through with our wedding…Are you willing to put that threat aside now?” “No…” I needed the exposure. I needed the press. “Goodbye then,” he hung up. I dropped my phone and lay back on my couch. I felt bad for ruining my relationship with Matt—us dating was extremely fun in the beginning, but my career practically took off overnight and I started to like the fame more than I liked him; it was never the same after that. I heard a knock at my door and mumbled, “Come in, whoever it is.” “Someone doesn’t sound too happy today,” Phillip walked inside and locked the door. I immediately sat up and tried not to gape at him. Even though he was forty years old, he was hot. Insanely hot. He shot all of our film’s outdoor scenes while wearing nothing but swim trunks and I had to remind myself that he was my boss, that he was completely unavailable. There were times when I caught him staring at me in between takes, when I thought his chocolate colored eyes were checking me out, but I brushed away those thoughts. I figured he was probably just wondering how I could elicit more emotion in certain scenes. He handed me a single sonata lily and sat beside me, clasping my hand in his. “Tell me something. Why do you always sit alone in your trailer whenever we take breaks?” “Umm,” I blushed. “I don’t know…” He used his other hand to caress my thigh and I gasped. “I think we should change that, don’t you think?” “What do you mean by—” before I could finish, his lips were on my lips and he was kissing me passionately. I felt myself kissing him back, enjoying the feel of his touch—wondering if he could hear how loudly my heart was beating against my chest. “I’m sorry,” he slowly pulled away, “but I’ve wanted to do that ever since we started filming.” I was speechless. I couldn’t believe that had just happened. “Is Matt Sterling really the love of your life, Selena?” he lifted my hand and kissed it. “Is your upcoming wedding real?” “No…It’s a staged relationship,” I barely managed. “I thought so…Well, I only stopped by to give you your favorite flower and tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” I blinked. Then I whispered, “Sonata lilies aren’t my favorite…I just tell the press that…” “Oh really?” he pulled me into his lap and swept a few stray hairs away from my face. “Well, what is your favorite flower? I’ll have to get that next time…” I started to tell him, but he cut me off and kissed me again. This time it was more forceful, more possessive—he wrapped his arms around my waist and didn’t release me until we were both out of breath. He planted kisses up and down my neck, whispering, “I would like to take you out to dinner tonight, Selena…I won’t take no for an answer.”

My pulse quickened and I murmured “okay,” as he slid his hand underneath my shirt. “I know this is premature,” he looked into my eyes, “but I’m a pretty straightforward guy: I’m going to make you mine someday. Soon.” And that was it. That was all it took for us to begin a six week affair of dinners, lavish trips, and hot passionate sex in hidden hotels. He didn’t want to destruct my public image of being engaged to Matt, so he made sure each of our dates was as private as possible: We arrived to dinners separately, checked into hotels underneath different names, and spent plenty of time in each other ’s apartments. There were only a few times when passion overtook us both and we just couldn’t wait to get to a private area, but for the most part we were very careful. The day his wife introduced herself to me and congratulated me on winning my Emmys I went into shock. I’d never seen him wear a wedding ring, and although I knew he had children, he never mentioned having a wife. As much as it pained me to let him go, I went to his trailer that night and told him we were over. I stood in his room crying, shouting, berating him for not telling me that he had a wife, but he walked over to me and silenced me with a kiss. “She was stopping by to drop off our daughters, Selena. That’s it,” he hugged me. “We’re in the middle of a divorce, but we’re still being cordial with one another,” he kissed me over and over. “I don’t want her. I want you…I’m in love with you.” I snapped out of my memory and heard the paparazzi screaming my name outside the window. I wanted to go out there and tell them the truth about the affair, but I knew that wasn’t the right way to handle things. I shut my eyes and wished that my mom was with me. She’d know exactly what to do in this situation. She would look into my eyes, which were the mirror image of hers, and give me her honest and heartfelt advice. She would tell me whether I was wrong or not, whether I deserved an apology or needed to hurry up and give one. Then, as she always did when I came running to her in tears, she’d kiss my forehead and tell me that she loved me no matter what. I picked up my phone and scrolled down to her number. I almost hit “call,” but I stopped myself. I wasn’t even sure if her number was still the same. I figured that after four years of acting as if she didn’t exist, she’d probably moved on with her life like I’d moved on with mine. I turned my phone off and wiped away my tears. I told myself that I didn’t need my mom, or anyone else for that matter. I could get through this on my own. I just needed to get through six more weeks. I thought about the other celebrities who endured public scandals and remembered that everything blew over in a matter of months. In fact, despite everyone initially making Matt Sterling out to be the bad guy in our wedding disaster, he was still Hollywood’s favorite heart-throb and the press was fairly lenient with him.

I knew they would be the same with me. How bad could it really be? I ordered my driver to take me out for a day of shopping. I decided I would test out my baggy sweat suit disguise at a New Jersey grocery store, and if it worked I would spend the rest of my day in Manhattan for some much needed retail therapy. I made sure my long blonde wig was secured underneath my pink scarf, pulled down my oversized shades, and walked inside Market Grocery. I picked up a hand-basket and wandered down the snack aisle. I picked out several packages of cookies, crackers, and cheese puffs. I grabbed a pound of Autumn Wonder coffee and realized I needed ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream. “Excuse me,” I made my way past two pregnant women who were discussing different peanut butter brands. I was about to turn the corner but I overheard one of them say my name. I pretended to be interested in a tub of whipped cream and tuned in to their conversation from the other side of the aisle. “I don’t know what I would do if I was Phillip Hartford’s wife!” one of them said. “That poor woman! She probably had no idea he was cheating! And how dare Selena Ross do that! She was engaged to Matt Sterling! You would think he would be enough for her!” “I know! Who wouldn’t love to be engaged to Matt Sterling? If I were Phillip Hartford’s wife,” the other one wagged her finger. “I’d hunt Selena Ross down and kill her!” I gasped. “Kill her? It’s not that serious!” “You’re right, you’re right. No use in going to jail over a whore…I’d just run her over with my truck a few times.” The two women giggled and pushed their baskets past me. I kept my tears at bay and took several deep breaths. I was sorry for ever eavesdropping. Once I collected myself, I walked to the freezer section and spotted a woman who seemed familiar. I looked her over a couple times, eyeing her jet black hair and caramel-colored skin. She tilted her head to the side and I saw that she was gorgeous. Drop-dead gorgeous. I instantly realized she was Matt’s personal assistant, but I was struggling to remember her name. Janet? Judy? Janise? Joan? Joan! That’s it! I tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around. “I’m sorry,” she stepped back. “Do I know you?” “It’s me…Selena,” I slightly lifted my shades. “Um, hi...How have you been? How is Matt?” “I’m fine. Matt’s great. He’s about to marry to someone he actually loves.” I rolled my eyes. I guessed that meant him and that writer woman were going to work out after all. “Are you running an errand for him right now?” I asked. “No. There’s not much need for a personal assistant when you’re going to be on Broadway. We’re

strictly friends now.” Over the two years that I “dated” Matt, I’d always envied his relationship with Joan. She seemed to be more than just an assistant to him; she was like his best friend. Everywhere he went, she went. Anytime he needed a second opinion, he asked for hers. And anytime I asked him if there was something going on between the two of them, he would roll his eyes and say, “Joan is the most professional person I know, and she’s made it very clear that she’s not attracted to me. There’s nothing between us but friendship. Please stop asking me that.” As a matter of fact, when he told me he’d fallen in love with someone else at our wedding, a part of me expected him to say that the “someone else” was Joan. “Oh…” I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m looking for a new assistant.” “That’s great! Good luck with your search,” she walked away. “Joan! Wait!” “Yes?” she turned around. “I said I’m looking for a new assistant.” “And I said good luck with your search. Was there something else?” I sighed. “Matt always said that you were the best thing that ever happened to him, that you were amazing and totally professional…I can’t seem to keep a steady assistant and—” “I’m aware. That’s why I’m not interested. And actually, now that you’re not dating Matt, I have no reason to tolerate you.” “Joan, I swear I—” “You’re rude, egotistical, selfish, and completely painful to be around. Why would anyone want to work with you?” Ouch… “Because I’ll pay double?” She raised her eyebrow. “Does that include Christmas and birthday bonuses?” “Whatever you want…” Please say yes. “If I choose to consider this,” she folded her arms, “which I probably won’t, I need requested days off guaranteed, a signed statement swearing you’ll never disrespect me, and a twenty percent advance. I want everything in writing and I need the contract signed by a notary.” “Am I really that awful, Joan?” “Yes. You really are,” she gave me a half-hearted smile and walked away. I tossed a couple pints of strawberry ice cream into my hand-basket and headed for the register. As the cashier scanned my items, I picked up the latest Us Weekly and flipped through the pages. In two photos Phillip and I were sprawled against the sand of a private beach, kissing one another, sleeping side by side. I remembered that day. It was the day he told me his wife was seeking more child support in the divorce proceedings, the day he told me it would only be “a matter of time” before we could finally be together. In another photo he was caressing my back on his balcony, where we “made love” under the

moonlight a week before my wedding, when he said he didn’t want me to marry Matt, that he wanted me all to himself. “What a slut, right?” the cashier popped her gum. “Excuse me?” “Selena Ross,” she pointed to my magazine. “I can’t believe she cheated on Matt Sterling! And with a married man? What a ho!” Do not take your shades off. Do not take your shades off... “I’m sure there’s more to the story,” I managed. “I’ve heard she’s got a good heart.” “A good heart? Yeah right! She’s a bitch! My friend won tickets to a ‘meet and greet’ session with her last year and Selena refused to take a picture with her because her shoes were scuffed!” I did that? “Oh…” I placed the magazine back into the rack. “Exactly! She doesn’t appreciate her fans and I hope this scandal ruins her career,” she bagged my ice cream. “That’ll be $34.67. Credit?” I almost pulled out my credit card. I handed her a fifty dollar bill and didn’t bother waiting for change. I grabbed my bags and rushed out to the black SUV. “Ready for more shopping, Miss Ross?” the driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “No,” I pulled my scarf over my head and cried. “Take me to the airport please.”

Chapter 6 Ethan I wanted to know whose bright idea it was to put an expansion site in the Deep South. What the hell was in Arkansas? I tried to get out of the assignment by telling the board about my plans for the new Italy stores, but they weren’t impressed. They gave me my undercover name—Ethan Reynolds, debriefed me on the assignment, and told me I needed to research the site since I was due to leave in a couple days. I walked into our records office, but I didn’t see any attendants. Since it was a little after one, I figured they were still out at lunch. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a voice scream, “I can’t believe she did that!” I walked behind the counter, past several rows of shelves, and spotted a female employee watching her laptop and eating a donut. I cleared my throat to announce my presence. “Shhh,” she kept her back to me and held up her index finger. “Selena Ross is so not getting my vote for the People’s Choice Awards this year!” “Who?” “Selena Ross!” “Is she a singer or something?” “How do you not know who Selena Ross is?” she spun around. Her eyes met mine and she blushed. “I’m uh…I’m sorry, Mr. Lockwood… I didn’t know it was you.” “It’s okay. I don’t keep up with celebrity culture. Could you get me all the files on the Fayetteville expansion site?” She nodded her head and disappeared behind the shelves. I leaned over her desk and looked at the computer screen. There was a picture of the “Selena Ross” woman dressed in a sheer gown that left little—if anything, to the imagination: It was nothing but a thin white scarf that snaked around her body—exposing her taut stomach and well-toned thighs. Although her breasts were covered, I could see them struggling to stay put underneath the thin fabric. The woman herself was undeniably beautiful—dark and mysterious eyes, lush and voluptuous lips, and a wry smile that perfectly complemented her heart shaped face. I was sure she only looked that amazing because of the picture’s lighting, or maybe it was because she was wearing tons of make-up. I doubted if she, or any other celebrity for that matter, looked that good in person. When the attendant returned, she avoided making eye contact and handed me the folders. She murmured, “You’ll have to get the financial records from accounting upstairs.” “I don’t need those,” I smiled. “Are these originals or duplicates?” “Duplicates,” she blushed again. “Well, thank you very much. Enjoy the rest of your show.”

She didn’t say anything back. She just stared at me and blinked rapidly. Good to know I’ve still got it… I poured myself a glass of scotch and took a seat on my private plane. I stuffed the research folders into my briefcase and sighed. Expansion sites were always the most annoying projects. We had to deal with the community’s initial resistance, protests from the small family-owned bakeries, and local papers crying about how “another big bad corporation was putting ‘Mom and Pop’ stores out of business.” But Autumn Wonder always won in the end. Always. “Got a minute?” Barry took a seat across from me. “I’ve got you a checkbook with your fake name, all the necessary IDs, and two credit cards. Whatever you do, make sure you’re as discreet as possible. Don’t ask the staff too many questions and don’t talk too much. Oh, and Fortune is meeting you down there within two weeks for a quick photo shoot and interview.” “Wait. What exactly will I be doing again? I’ll be in the regional office, right?” “Do you ever listen in board meetings? Like, ever?” he sighed. “You’re going to be a coffee barista.” “For six weeks! Is this some type of joke?” “Not at all,” he laughed. “You know what? While you’re down there, why don’t you try dating a few women without your checklist?” “Why? Is my checklist that bad?” “It’s terrible! Just because a woman passes all your pointless tests that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to be together forever. Remember Darcy?” I didn’t want to acknowledge that Darcy, my first serious girlfriend, ever existed. She hurt my feelings so badly when she dumped me that I almost screwed up Autumn Wonder’s first overseas store. She and I were so perfect together, so in sync, or so I thought. We enjoyed the same activities, the same music, the same everything. I loved lavishing her with trips and gifts, surprising her with well-thought out dates, and taking her on exotic vacations all over the world. We never mentioned “love,” but I knew that love couldn’t be any better than what we shared. One day, while we were hiking our favorite trail, she sat me down on a rock that overlooked the city and dumped me. Out of nowhere. Out of the blue. Five minutes after we discussed going to Mexico together. Just like that. She said I wasn’t the guy for her, that she needed “space,” and that she wished me the best in life. And that was it. I tried to get her to clarify for weeks, but her answers were always the same: “It’s not you, it’s me,” “I need space,” “We need to grow separately.” Even though I was hurt, secretly-crying-in-my-office-hurt, I tried to be “just friends” with her— hoping she would take me back one day, but that never happened: She sent me an invitation to her engagement party six months later.

“I don’t know who Darcy is,” I sighed. Barry rolled his eyes. “My point is, you didn’t need a checklist to find her and you two were great together. If you try to date without it again, you might find someone better.” “Fine. I’ll try it,” I downed my glass of scotch. “And I’ll be bringing a new CFO with me when I get back.” I landed in Fayetteville at four in the morning. I quickly unloaded my motorcycle and sped off towards Autumn Wonder. Since it was one of our newer locations, it had an outdoor patio with live greenery, a truffle brown awning over its double doors, and sleek black windows with computer technology that simulated orange, brown, and red leaves falling. “Ethan Reynolds! You’re here on time!” a blonde-haired woman jumped up and down and clapped as I walked in. “I can already tell you have employee of the month potential!” It’s way too early for this… “Good morning,” I yawned. “Good morning to you too! Come on and follow me to the back okay?” I followed her into the state of the art kitchen, through the two tiered bakery area, and into a small corner office. “My name is Lola and I’m excited that you’re a part of the team!” she clapped. “Autumn Wonder only hires the best so I’m sure your application was phenomenal! But, before we can start your training, we need to get a few things out of the way! What do you know about coffee?” That you’ve definitely had too much to drink this morning… “What do you mean?” “How much do you know about coffee? Do you know the intricacies of different coffee beans, grinding, or beverage preparation?” “Um…” “It’s okay if you don’t know anything!” she smiled. “As your manager, I am here to help you grow from a helpless sack of grounds into a knowledgeable cup of well-brewed coffee!” Oh my god… She stood up and pressed play on a DVD player. “I’ve created my own video about the importance of knowing coffee. It’s really great! After you watch this, I’m going to give you a thorough tour of your new home away from home and get you trained on some of the basics! Okay?” She didn’t wait for my response. She slipped out of the room and left me to watch her video—a collection of short scenes that featured her playing with brown paper bag puppets named Mr. and Mrs. Coffee Bean. As soon as the tape ended, she opened the door and told me to follow her around the store. “This is our kitchen, where all the magic happens!” her eyes seemed to sparkle. “If you ever notice something in disarray, please put it back in its place okay? We all have to work together to keep our space neat! This is the brew zone…This is our café area…This is—”

This is not happening. No way can I do this for six weeks…I need to figure out a way to get out of this…Are there any jellyfish lakes in Arkansas? Are there any— “Ethan!” Lola snapped me out of my thoughts. “Are you ready to learn how to make your first cup of awesome Autumn Wonder coffee?” I looked at my watch and groaned. I’d only been off work two hours and I had a date in forty five minutes. I’d met an attractive woman while I was on my lunch break, and instead of sizing her up against my check list, I took Barry’s advice and simply asked her out. I rushed to Penguin Ed’s, a BBQ place she’d suggested, and spotted her sitting in a booth near the back. She was cute like I remembered—short red hair, dark brown eyes, and small pink lips. “Good evening Lisa,” I slid into the booth. “Good evening Ethan,” she blushed. “How are you?” “I’m okay. I’m a little tired after working all day. How about you?” “I’m alright,” she said, and for the first time I noticed her syrupy Southern drawl. “I went ahead and ordered for you since you said you’ve never been here before.” Ordering for me on the first date without knowing if I have any allergies? That’s a definite negative— Wait, stop it! “Thank you. What’d you order me?” “A pulled pork sandwich with corn on the cob. You’ll love it!” she smiled. “So, where are you from?” “I’m from,” I tried to remember what my fake ID said, “New Hampshire. You?” “I’m from right here in Fayetteville, the best city in the whole wide world! I don’t think I’ll ever leave!” So she doesn’t want to travel… “What do you like to do for fun?” I asked. The waitress set our plates down extremely slow and winked at me before walking away. I looked down at my napkin and saw that she’d scrawled her name and number on top of it. “What do I like to do for fun?” Lisa sat back. “Well, I like to go biking. I love gardening, and I do a lot of reading.” “I love reading. What’s the last good book you read?” “Fifty Shades of Grey. Have you read it?” “No, but I’ve heard from all my women friends that it’s really good,” I suddenly remembered my secretary sliding that book inside her drawer for weeks—as if she were hiding it; she did that every time I walked by her desk for some reason. “I guess I need to—” “It is awesome!” her eyes lit up. “It will turn your sex life upside down! If we go out a few more times, maybe I can show you some things I learned! I ran out and bought some cable ties, a couple whips, and a blindfold right after reading it! I can’t wait to find a billionaire to dominate me! Or maybe I can dominate him! There’s this thing I want to try where I get tied to a—” Did she just say “whips”? “Cable ties”?

“And there are these silver balls that I’ve been dying to test out!” she reached over the table and grabbed my hand. “I bought them last week! They’re supposed to be amazing—like, orgasmic amazing! After I wet them with my mouth, the guy is supposed to place them in my—” What! After dinner, I drove through the town, checking out the different coffee shops. There was a Starbucks of course, a Krispy Kreme, and a place Lisa mentioned over dinner: Sweet Seasons. I parked in front of Sweet Seasons and looked through the windows. The interior didn’t look all that spectacular—less than modern furniture, a standard bakery case for pastries, and light wooden floors. Lisa said they served “the best coffee and pie in all of Arkansas,” but I didn’t see any mention of them in my expansion files. I was going to take Lisa’s word with a hefty grain of salt, but the couple behind us overheard her mention Sweet Seasons and it turned into a fifteen minute conversation about their favorite coffee blends and pastries. I was sure Sweet Seasons didn’t stand a chance against Autumn Wonder—we’d already crushed the other two family-owned bakeries, but I decided I would pay the place a visit on my off day.

Chapter 7 Selena “There was enough room for you Jack!” I cried as I watched the final frame of the Titanic. “Rose could’ve moved over! You both could’ve made it! You could’ve survived!” I watched Jack sink down to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean and shouted at Rose for letting him die right in front of her. Selfish. I drank the last few ounces of tequila from my bottle and threw it across the room. I hadn’t stopped crying since I landed in Fayetteville, and no matter what I did to try to make myself feel better, I only felt worse. I reached for another box of Kleenex and realized I was still wearing the promise ring Phillip gave me. It was a Cartier, a three carat cushion cut diamond with a beveled bracket, a supposed symbol of his undying love. He’d given it to me in London, after he took me to lunch at Pied à Terre and Buckingham Palace. As we stood outside together, arms embraced, foreheads touching, he told me that he loved me, that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me, and that my new promise ring would have a wedding band to match in the near future. He said he was going to marry me… I still believed that he would call and tell me he was sorry, that he wanted to be with me and had finally hammered out his divorce, but several days passed and he never did. I texted him every morning and every night, but he never texted me back. I called and called and called, and it always went straight to his voicemail. I looked up at the TV and decided to take a cue from Titanic. I twisted his promise ring off my finger and walked over to my balcony. I pitched the ring as far as I could manage and looked around for the paparazzi. Surely they’d followed me from the private airport to my mid-scale hotel and there would be photos of me tossing that ring away in the news tomorrow. Surely everyone in America would feel sorry for me, and by the end of the week my first scandal would be more than over. I raised my hands in the air and waited to hear the click clicking of the cameras, for a group of them to rush under the balcony and start taking close-up shots, but nothing happened. Fayetteville was quiet. There was nothing but a chorus of crickets chirping amidst the cool night air. Disheartened, I stumbled back into my room and opened another bottle of tequila. I drank three more shots and passed out on the carpet. I sat in the backseat of a cab and tried to stifle my sobs with the sleeves of my jacket. Everything around me was falling apart and I knew it would take much more than a public statement and a six

week hiatus to put it all back together. On Friday, Cover Girl issued a statement regarding my behavior, saying, “The actions of Miss Ross are in no way indicative of the character we seek in our valued spokespersons and we have unanimously decided to revoke her campaign contract for the upcoming year.” On Saturday, after I drunkenly-tweeted my twenty million followers that I wanted Phillip to come back to me and that he should hurry up and divorce his wife, Katy called to let me know she was quitting. Effective immediately. The only person I had left was Joan. She’d agreed to come to Fayetteville and be my new personal assistant if I patched things up with my mother first, but I figured she would overlook that part of our agreement once she saw how distraught I was. I looked out my window and winced as we passed another “Arkansas, The Natural State” sign. Things were beginning to look familiar, and as hard as I tried to block out the memories of my past, they played out right in front of me: There were the River-bend Gardens—where Taylor and I shared our first kiss, the Farmer ’s Market—where Jessica and I went every weekend to do the bakery shopping for my mom, and Tiffany D’s Ice Cream Parlor—where my dad took me once a month to lecture me on the laws of life before he passed away. When we pulled into the main streets of town, I slouched down in my seat to avoid my mother ’s Sweet Seasons bakery. I knew it was closed on Sundays and that no one would strain to see through the cab’s windows, but I didn’t want to risk the chance of anyone noticing me. When I finally sat up, I saw that we’d passed Autumn Wonder, where Joan asked me to meet her. “Stop!” I yelled. “Can you drop me off at that coffee shop back there please?” “Right away ma’am,” the driver made a reckless U-turn. I sent Joan a text and eyed the colossal Autumn Wonder store. It had to be new, really new—even the ones in New York City didn’t look as nice as this one. The cab driver looked at me through the rearview mirror and put the car in park. “That’ll be $24.89, ma’am.” I handed him my credit card and he shook his head. “I don’t have a credit card machine, ma’am.” “Ugh! I forgot I was in Fayetteville,” I sighed and handed him a hundred dollar bill. “I see you all have yet to catch up with the rest of the world. Keep the change.” I slammed his door shut and adjusted my blonde wig. I popped a mint into my mouth and tried to walk in a straight line. I whispered “One, two, three…sober!” and made my way inside. As soon as I stepped in, a whiff of dark roast coffee and cinnamon wafted against my face. I held myself against a wall and looked around the store: It was like something out of an Architectural Digest, like a massive Barnes & Noble and Starbucks all in one, but better. The first level featured beautiful black bistro chairs and tall iron-wrought tables with touristylandscape photos engraved into their tops. The café was in the back, and a see through kitchen with

state of the art coffee machines and state of the art double ovens stood right behind it. To my right was a glass wall that extended down the entire store, where hundreds of pastries and pies sat in a lovely display. Behind the black railings that guarded the upper level, I could see plush leather couches, rustic tables, and floor to ceiling bookshelves. I whispered “sober” to myself one more time and walked towards the counter. I was halfway there when a gorgeous man in a brown leather jacket looked up at me and smiled. Whoa…Who is he? I clumsily smiled back. Out of nowhere, a woman brushed past me—nearly knocking me off balance, and sat down at his table. Of course he wasn’t smiling at me. I should have known better… This wig makes me look like a wet mop. I approached the counter and the barista beamed. “Good afternoon ma’am! Welcome to the awesome world of—” “Spare me. I need a Venti Frappuccino: One pump caramel, one pump white mocha, two scoops vanilla bean powder, and extra ice with two espresso shots. I want caramel drizzle under and on top of the whipped cream, two dashes of chocolate chip coffee creamer, with melted cinnamon flakes lightly mixed in. And I need it double cupped.” She blinked. “Am I speaking Spanish? Do I need to repeat myself?” “No ma’am,” she turned around and began to work. I took out my wallet and snuck glances of the leather jacket guy here and there. He turned to the side and I realized that he was the type of guy I used to dream about, the type of guy that didn’t used to exist in Fayetteville. His hair—dark brown and lustrous, was perfectly parted above his thick and furrowed eye brows but a few errant strands fell right above his ocean blue eyes. His pearly white teeth showed each time he laughed and his full lips were well-defined and inviting—so inviting that I wanted to walk over there and kiss him. Just like that. I was sure I’d be doing him a favor: He could brag to all his friends about kissing a celebrity and I…I wasn’t sure what I would get out of it unless he was an amazing kisser. If he was, maybe he’d agree to come back to my hotel to finish what we started. I was sure a night with him could keep my mind off my first scandal. I wonder how good he is in bed…He looks like the type that likes to take control, like he could— Stop it! What the hell is wrong with me? He’s just a regular guy…A non-celebrity… I heard his deep laughter again and turned around to examine him once more. I tried finding a flaw, any flaw—an outlier eyelash, an uneven hair line, an untamed facial hair—but I couldn’t find one. Not a one. He was perfect. He looked like he belonged in Hollywood, like he could give all the other heartthrobs a run for their money.

He noticed me watching and smiled at me, raising his eyebrow. I tried to pretend I was more interested in the picture that was hanging above his table, but out the corner of my eye I saw him lick a wisp of whip cream from his upper lip and my entire body quivered. I turned back towards the barista and saw that she had yet to produce my coffee. “Why is it taking you so long? Are you confused? It’s not like this place is crawling with customers!” “I’m sorry ma’am. I’m going as fast as I can,” she added a caramel drizzle to the top of my drink and handed it to me. “Your total is $5.85.” I handed her my credit card and she swiped it. Then she swiped it again. And again. “Um, do you have another card, ma’am?” she practically whispered. “My system doesn’t recognize this one.” “It’s a black card. Every system recognizes it.” “I’m sorry. Ours doesn’t seem to… Do you have cash maybe?” What is she trying to say? “Swipe the card again,” I crossed my arms. “It’s still giving me the same error ma’am,” she handed the card back to me and lowered her voice. “There’s an ATM outside if you want to check—” “I can afford the damn drink! I don’t need an ATM! I need you Fayetteville people to get with the times and—” “I’ll pay for it,” leather jacket guy handed the barista a ten and flashed his smile again, nearly melting me on the spot. Say thank you… “I hope you don’t expect me to say thank you,” I grabbed my Frappuccino and stormed away. I lifted the handle on the exit door, but it didn’t open. I leaned into the door with my shoulder but it wouldn’t budge. I kicked at it a few times, and then I stepped back and lunged into it, cursing when it showed no resistance. I heard the employees softly snickering from behind the counter—“Can’t she read?” “Why is she doing that?” “Blondes are dumb!”—but I ignored them. I lifted the handle one last time, kicking the door as I did it, but my other foot gave way and I fell onto my back, splattering coffee all over the parquet floor. “Oh my god! Are you alright, ma’am?” the barista shouted from across the store. “Nobody move! She might try to sue!” I reached up and touched my wig, making sure it hadn’t slipped off. My back instantly ached, but I didn’t feel like getting up. I knew I looked stupid and I needed a chance to collect myself. This is not my life…This is not my life… “I think she’s okay,” someone touched my forehead. “Do I need to call 911?” Did I hear 911? If I get taken to the hospital, I can put off meeting my mother for a lot longer…I can act like I have some type of mystery disease and get airlifted back to New York. Then everyone will feel sorry for me, forget all about the scandal, and fall in love with me all over again. Yes! Yes! Yes! They should call 911 and I should—

I opened my eyes and saw leather jacket guy looking down at me. I completely forgot my plan. “Are you okay?” he looked into my eyes. Jesus… “No.” I snapped out of my trance and sat up. “No, I am not okay and I don’t want your help. Go back to sipping your coffee or whatever you were doing.” He reached for my hand anyway and helped me to my feet. One of his hands was around my waist, steadying me, and I could feel a sudden shock of energy coursing through my veins. He seemed to be asking me questions but I couldn’t make out any of the exact words. I was too busy gazing at him, wondering if he was even real—if I should take my chance and kiss his lips before he disappeared, if I should— “I’m going to let you go now, okay?” he looked down at me and smiled again. You can’t be from Fayetteville… I nodded and he released me. He strolled over to the counter, grabbed a new drink, and handed it to me. “She made you a brand new one. Are these your shades?” he picked up my Chanel frames from floor. “Yeah…” I stared at him a few more seconds before putting them back on. “All you had to do was push,” he walked to the door and held it open, “the word is right there…” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I didn’t give him the chance to. I quickly rushed past him, outside to the spacious patio, and took a seat on the far end. What the hell was that? Why did I act like I’ve never seen a hot guy before? There’s definitely something in the water down here…Or maybe I’m still drunk… “Earth to Selena….Earth to Selena…” Joan cut through my thoughts and sat down. “How long are you going to wear that ridiculous disguise?” “Until we leave Fayetteville…I don’t want people recognizing me right now. As you can clearly see,” I took off my shades, “I’m vulnerable right now.” “Ha! Anyway, since you only have a personal assistant now and I’ll be juggling Katy’s former duties, we need to make some changes ASAP.” “Like what?” “For starters, here’s your new phone,” she slid me a pre-historic flip phone. “I need your old one right now.” I picked it up and saw that there were buttons on the keypad. Buttons. There was no touch screen. There was no camera. There were no apps—not a single one. There was nothing but buttons and a screen so small I could barely make out the home screen’s menu. She’s out of her mind! “Is this a joke?” I tossed the phone to her. “I know you don’t know me that well, but are you fully aware that my name is Selena Ross? I don’t do flip phones.” “Are you fully aware that I could live off the severance package Matt gave me for the next twenty

years? That I really don’t have to be here?” “No…” She slid the phone back to me and I reluctantly handed her my iPhone 5. “Of the contacts in this phone, who do I need to give direct access to your line? Who are your friends?” I don’t have any... “What’s that, Selena?” “I don’t have any friends…” She raised her eyebrow. “Well, I’ll forward any important emails and updates to the flip phone. As of today, I’m deactivating your Twitter, your Instagram, and your—” “What! Why? How will my fans keep up with me? How will they survive?” She gave me a blank stare. “We also need to work on re-building your image. Katy was nice enough to give me the promo plan she was working on. For now though, keep a low profile. We’re definitely here for another five and a half weeks. Speaking of which, how was your mother when you visited her yesterday?” “Um,” I slurped my coffee, “I never got around to that. I figured that since—” “We had a deal. You were supposed to meet with your mother before I got here. Didn’t you say you hadn’t spoken to her in four years?” And I’m trying to make it to five… “I guess I thought you would forget about that since I’m paying you double?” “No. Let’s go. I’m taking you to see her today.” “I’m not coming, Joan. I’m not ready.” “And why not?” she gave me an evil death stare. I’m scared… I sighed. “She hates me…Everyone hates me right now. I’m too depressed, too hurt. Can’t you see that? I need to stay at my hotel and work on myself for a few weeks and then—” “Please shut up,” she pushed her chair to the table. “Do you really expect me to feel sorry for you? I don’t. Just because I’m your assistant that doesn’t mean I have to buy into your crap. If you’re not in my car in two minutes, I’ll be on the next flight out of here.” My mother ’s place hadn’t aged a bit. The three story wooden colonial boasted bright white paint,

wide windows with cream shutters, and a wooden veranda that wrapped around the entire house. The American flag hung high from the second level, lightly grazing the left side of the porch, and I could see my old tree house—my father ’s last gift to me before he died, quietly sitting in the distance. I stood in front of the house and contemplated turning around, running all the way back to my hotel, and telling Joan to kiss my ass. I was sure I could find another assistant in no time, one that wouldn’t inflict her morals and rolling eyes on me, one that would do exactly what I said and not talk back to me. Then again, the top assistant agency in New York was run by the sister of Phillip Hartford’s wife. I decided it would be easier to visit my tree house first. I climbed up the metal ladder and yanked the door open. Everything was just as I left it: “I’m going to be a star one day” was in bright pink paint on the center wall, my high school drama awards were standing proudly against a re-purposed bookshelf, and every play program from my college theater days was suspended from a neon green clothesline that hung from the ceiling. My impressive stack of hand-sewn quilts was neatly arranged into a large plastic bin, and the secret recipe to my award-winning cherry bourbon pie was still tucked underneath a loose floor panel. I picked up the oversized picture that hung on my corkboard—a picture of Taylor, Jessica, and me at a Halloween party. We were all dressed as Disney characters: Taylor was Prince Aladdin, Jessica was Sleeping Beauty, and I was Cinderella. We were all smiling broadly, standing in front of a haunted corn maze. Taylor ’s arms were wrapped around my waist and Jessica was pretending to pull at my hair. I’m still not over it… I pulled my emergency drawer open and took out a lighter. I held our picture over the garbage can and set it afire. I ripped all of our “friends forever” photos off the wall, tore them to pieces, and tossed the bits into the trash. I took my time climbing down the ladder and wandered across the front yard. I approached the front door and smelled the familiar scent of my mom’s signature cookies: Red velvet fluffs with chocolate chips. Cinnamon swirls with macadamia nuts. Peanut butter pecans with caramel drops. I noticed our family cat Tina eyeing me from the garden bench, moving her furry little head with every step I took. She wasn’t a tiny gray kitten anymore; she was a plump and husky cat. “Tinaaa! You’ve gotten so big! Come here Tina,” I patted my thighs and clapped softly. “Come to Selenaaa!” She jumped down from the bench and slowly sauntered over. Once she was two feet away, she hissed at me and ran away. I sighed. I was convinced my mother still kept her door open on Sundays, the “family dinner days,” so I didn’t ring the doorbell. I pushed the door open as slowly as possible and slipped inside. Right in front of me, on the very first wall, were pictures of every magazine cover I’d ever posed for,

every movie I’d ever starred in, and every image of me receiving an award—Emmy, SAG, People’s Choice—perfectly fitted into its own silver frame. On a large board to my left were numerous newspaper and magazine articles—each one labeled by the publication’s name and date. I ran my fingers across the pages and felt tears trickling down my face. I couldn’t believe my mother had kept up with everything I’d done. I thought she’d disowned me like I’d disowned her. I heard bouts of laughter coming from the kitchen and wiped my face before heading in that direction. You can do this…You can do this…Don’t cry… I turned the corner and saw that my entire family—mother, aunts, uncles, and cousins—was invested in a loud game of Monopoly. They were harassing my mom about her banking skills and teasing my uncle about being sent “directly to jail.” “Hello everyone,” I whispered. They didn’t hear me. They didn’t even notice me. They were now debating the illegal purchase of Vermont Avenue. They looked like they were having so much fun, like they didn’t have a care in the world. I can’t do this. I can’t face them right now… Screw Joan, I don’t care if she leaves! I’m out of here! I stepped backwards very slowly, praying that none of them would randomly look up in my direction. Just as I was about to move into the front hallway, I lost my balance and tripped over something fuzzy —Tina. She let out an ear-piercing screech and scratched me before angrily dashing away. I tried to gather myself as quickly as I could, to bolt out of the house before my family could look to see where that agonizing squeal had come from, but it was no use. The room had already become silent and everyone in my family was scowling at me. “Um… Sorry about that… Hello everyone,” I barely managed. “It’s good to see you all…” Silence. My oldest cousin Kate stood up. “Well, look what the cat coughed up! It’s Selena Ross! I don’t think I feel like having fun anymore.” She walked past me, purposely bumping my shoulder, and slammed the door on her way out. The rest of my family stood up one by one and walked outside to join her, purposely slamming the door after each exit. Only my mother stayed. She looked the same way she did four years ago. Her wavy black hair was in a messy bun atop her head, her stone gray eyes still possessed their see-through-your-soul powers, and she still looked

hurt. She stared at me a long time before saying, “Why are you here Selena? Did New York get dull all of sudden? Or are you hiding from that man’s wife?” So she knows… “I’m…I’m here to reconnect with you,” I held back tears. “I decided I needed to come back home for a while…” “Right…” she walked into the living room and sat on the couch. I followed and sat in the chair across from her. “I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while… I—” “In four years?” she glared at me. “You haven’t called me in four years!” “I’m–” “You didn’t even think to send me an invitation to your wedding! I had to read about it! I had to watch it weeks later on TV!” she screamed. “Ma, I’m—” “And I was thrilled to see that actress portraying me on E True Hollywood Story! Brilliant, Selena! Brilliant! And since when is your last name Ross? Beauregard wasn’t good enough?” “It’s not that. It was—” “I called you every day for a year! A year!” her voice was wavering, but it was getting louder and louder. “And you didn’t return one phone call! Not a one! You didn’t even think to call me on your own!” “I—” “Why couldn’t you call me once? Just once! My birthday? Mother ’s Day? Hell, I would’ve settled for St. Patrick’s Day!” “I wanted to call you, I swear…I was just so angry...I was tired of you putting Sweet Seasons ahead of me and—” “There’s no justification for not talking to me for four years Selena! I’m your goddamn mother!” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I cried. Then I bawled. I felt her arms folding around me but I couldn’t stop sobbing. She sighed. “Your father took out a loan against the bakery before he passed, a loan I didn’t even know about. That’s why I had to keep working and missed a lot of your performances…It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be there for you. I did, I really did…but if I missed one payment, we wouldn’t have had anything because they would’ve taken the shop away. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry; I wanted you to focus on your own dreams… If I had known that you were going to treat me so horribly once you left…”

She buried her head in my shoulder and cried. “Why did you treat me like that Selena? How could you do that to me?” A reel of memories flashed before my eyes: I was on stage in a custom Marchesa gown, winning my first Emmy, deliberately thanking everyone except my mother. I was receiving an Academy Award nomination—for my very first film, wanting to call and share it with her, but getting excessively drunk with my costars instead. I was holding secret actress auditions for women to play her in interviews and specials, not caring whether she would be hurt by it or not. I was making sure her calls went unanswered and unreturned, but I was secretly listening to her voicemails at night; finding a surreal sense of comfort from the sound of her voice. I was purposely vacationing on her birthday and Mother ’s Day—to get my mind off of her, to hurt her if she should happen to come across the photos. But I was crying each time I did that, each time I thought of a new way to get her back for not “being there” for me. I immediately realized that all the years I’d spent trying to hurt my mother by cutting her off, I’d hurt myself even more. “I’m sorry Mom. I’m so sorry,” I uttered through broken sobs. “I wanted to prove I could make it without you…that I didn’t need you…but I do, I really do…I’m so sorry...” She kept her arms around me and pulled me close. She was silent a long time, occasionally wiping her face then mine. She wiped away another stream of tears and whispered, “I am very very angry with you and I’m extremely hurt by what you did, extremely hurt…But I forgive you and I’ll always love you, Selena Anne Beauregard…You know, I probably would’ve changed my last name too.” I sniffled and suppressed a laugh. She hugged me tighter and kissed my forehead. “Does Selena Ross eat crepes and home-made yogurt? I read somewhere that she only eats the finer things for breakfast.” “She loves crepes,” I wiped my face on my sleeve. “I’d hoped so,” she stood up and reached for my hand. “I’m looking forward to four years of stories, young lady. How long do you plan to be in town?” “Five and a half more weeks…maybe more.” “Well, that’s a start. In addition to updating each other on all the years we’ve missed, you can help out at Sweet Seasons to try and get back on my good side. I never was able to perfect your cherry bourbon pie—I’m sure everyone will be happy to have the real recipe back…I’ve missed you so much, Selena. I love you.” “I love you too.” She squeezed my hand. “Was that really Matt Sterling’s baby?”

Chapter 8 Ethan I stared at the blonde woman lying on the floor of Autumn Wonder and tried not to laugh. I’d never seen someone literally fall backwards before. One minute she was yelling at my coworker, and the next she was falling on her head and her heels were in the air. “Is she okay? Is she talking about suing us?” Lola called from across the store. “Do you think corporate will fire me if she sues? You think I should put in an application at Starbucks before they do that?” “I think she’s okay,” I bent down and touched her forehead. “Do I need to call 911?” She didn’t answer. She was busy mumbling something to herself, shaking her head back and forth. I gently shook her shoulder and her eyes fluttered open. Wow… She was a vision. I could gaze at her all day. She had the most amazing gray eyes I’d ever seen—her irises were the color of stormy rain clouds, with deep green speckles that glimmered like glass, the type of eyes that could see right through me. She seemed to be in some type of trance. It looked like she was slightly puckering her lips at me, like she wanted me to kiss her, but I made myself believe I was only imagining that. I helped her to stand up, ignoring the sudden jolt I felt as soon I touched her hand. I asked her a few questions about how she was feeling, but she simply stared at me and turned bright red. She looks very familiar…Where do I know her from? I brought her a new coffee and demonstrated how the door opened: the word “PUSH” was boldly written on the handle bar and etched on the glass. Before I could ask what her name was, she rushed out to the patio. I wanted to follow her, to ask her out to dinner—tonight, but I sensed Lola behind me. “Well, at least she’s okay,” Lola patted my back. “Thanks for filling out paperwork on your off day, Ethan! You are already one of my favorite coffee beans!” I’m getting out of here by the end of the week… “Anytime Lola,” I headed for the employee exit. I stopped by the local bookstore and purchased The Art of Small Talk and a few romance books. Barry claimed that brushing up on romance novels would help me with my spontaneity and clue me in to what women expected on dates. He also suggested that I watch a few romantic comedies, but I refused. I promised myself I would never watch another one of those brainless films ever again. I exhaled and opened the door to Theo’s American Kitchen. I knew that one kooky date wasn’t enough to justify keeping my checklist, so when a cute customer asked me out to dinner, I obliged. Her name was Rachel and she was a graduate student at the University of Arkansas. She was fair-

skinned and blue eyed, and her long auburn hair fell right below her shoulders. I walked over to her table and took a seat. “How are you this evening, Rachel? Did you order already?” “I’m great,” she smiled. “No, I didn’t order yet…I wasn’t sure if you had any allergies or not.” Excellent… I looked over the menu. “All of this looks pretty amazing. What do you prefer?” “Spicy calamari to start and grilled salmon for the main course?” “Sounds great,” I signaled for the waiter. After he took our order, Rachel leaned back. “So, how does it feel to work at Autumn Wonder? Don’t you hate it?” “No, it’s actually quite interesting.” “I hated being a barista,” she shook her head. “I used to work at Starbucks and the customers were so mean in the morning.” And she hates Starbucks? Even better... I laughed. “Well, that happens with any fast-paced business. I’ve found that there are usually more happy customers than angry ones though.” “True,” she suddenly looked serious. “Doesn’t it make your blood boil when you realize that these big companies use the cheapest ingredients in their food and charge top dollar for it? Doesn’t it make you want to scream when you realize that the profit margin on a cup of coffee is four hundred percent?” What? Where did she get that ridiculous number from? “Um…” “I’m starting a personal revolution against all fast-food and coffee chains,” she whispered. “They should be donating their money to third world countries and helping our nation’s poor instead of getting rich.” I sighed. “I’m pretty sure Autumn Wonder donates six hundred million a year to social programs and invests—” “That’s a lie!” she reached over the table and put her finger against my lips. “Don’t be fooled by their propaganda, Ethan!” Oh god… “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.” “Good,” she moved her finger back. “I’m glad you came out with me tonight.” “Me too…” The waiter set our calamari on the table and I picked up my fork. “Don’t you dare eat that!” Rachel swatted it out of my hand. “What? Why not?” “Brothers and sisters!” she stood on top of her chair. “Friends and family! Slaves to the almighty dollar! Join me in the fight against these trite food corporations! Put down your forks and fight with me right now! No more eating cheap food and paying top dollar for it! No more funding these corporate big wigs’ pockets! All of you stand with me! Stand with me right now!”

Silence. Everyone in the restaurant stared at her. I heard a straw drop to the ground. Rachel got down on her knees and knelt in a prayer position. “Forgive them father,” she whispered. “They know not what they do.” I give up… Lola adjusted my name tag and swept a lint roller across the brim of my hat. She hummed the refrain of Frank Sinatra’s “The Coffee Song,” and looked me over a few times before deciding I looked like the perfect Autumn Wonder employee. “And don’t forget to wear the most important part of our uniform, the smile!” she smiled widely and blinked, waiting for me to smile back. Can I tell her that I’m the CEO right now? This is getting ridiculous… “Look! It’s your very first customer!” she whispered and pointed to an elderly woman who was making her way into the store. “Good luck, Ethan! I believe in you!” The elderly woman approached the counter and looked up at the menu board. “I just want a regular cup of coffee. None of that fancy stuff. How much is that?” “Four dollars, ma’am.” “Four dollars! For one cup? Are you crazy! I can buy a whole bag for that price!” “Well ma’am, it’s—” “Ma’am, you probably can buy a regular bag of coffee for four dollars,” Lola rushed around to the woman and handed her a cup, “but it won’t taste half as good as ours. Why don’t you try this out for free? Then come back tomorrow and let me know how it tasted.” “Well, alright...Thank you, doll!” No wonder we’re not making enough money! As soon as the woman walked out, I sighed. “We give free coffee to anyone who complains about the price?” “No, we—Shhh, there’s another customer.” A man wearing an “I love Arkansas” shirt, clearly a tourist, walked over to the bakery glass and looked over the pies. “I’ve never heard of a cherry bourbon pie before,” he said. “The tag here says this is the best cherry bourbon pie in all of Arkansas, is that true?” “Yes sir,” I pulled out the pie and placed it on the counter. “This is the best—” “No it’s not,” Lola snatched the pie from me and placed it back behind the glass. “I don’t want to lie to you sir. The best cherry bourbon pie is two miles down at a bakery called Sweet Seasons. It’s absolutely phenomenal! One slice will change your life!” WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING? “It’s that good?” he looked like he didn’t believe her.

“Trust me! If this is your first time in Arkansas, and you want the best pie our state has to offer, go there right away.” “Well, thank you for your honesty,” he smiled and walked out. “We just lost more money,” I tried to remain calm. “I know.” “The purpose of a business is to make money, not lose money. And I’m pretty sure—actually I’m one hundred percent sure, that the company handbook doesn’t say anything about hand delivering your customers to a competitor!” “I’m sorry,” she folded her arms. “Are you the manager?” Don’t blow your cover… “No. No, I am not the manager.” “Really? Well, are you the head baker?” “No. I’m not.” “That’s right,” she nodded her head. “You are a coffee barista and a green apron barista at that! You haven’t even earned the black expertise apron! You—” “You know what? I’m sorry. I was clearly out of line and—” “You do not want to get on my spicy side, Ethan Reynolds! I can turn into a pretty heated pumpkin spice latte!” What! Is she on DRUGS? She continued. “I don’t care how many times you’ve read that company handbook! If a customer comes in and ever asks for an honest opinion about sour cream apple pie, mile high chocolate pie, or cherry bourbon pie, I’m going to tell them the truth. And the truth is, Sweet Seasons’ pies are a whole lot better!” “May I ask why that’s the case?” “No! You can go over there and sort out the coffee beans for the mid-day rush!” she stormed off. “Don’t worry man,” the head baker patted my shoulder and laughed. “She’s like that with everyone, it’s not just you.” “Right…Well, can you tell me why our cherry bourbon pie isn’t as good as—” “Sweet Seasons?” he smiled. “I love that place! I take my lunch breaks over there, but don’t tell Lola...Anyway, what do you think are the two key ingredients in a cherry bourbon pie?” “Cherries and bourbon?” “Exactly. That’s why,” he picked up a tray and I followed him into the kitchen. “In our pies, we use

canned cherries and bourbon syrup. Sweet Seasons picks their cherries from the farmer ’s market, and they use real bourbon.” “Ethan! Why aren’t the coffee beans being sorted?” Lola screamed. When it was time for my lunch break, I drove over to Sweet Seasons. I needed to know what all the rage was about.

Chapter 9 Selena Sweet Seasons still smelled like freshly baked bread and lightly buttered waffles. The polished pine floors still creaked in certain spots—their “authenticity factor”—and my dad’s old handcrafted furniture looked as if he’d made it yesterday. My mom had added additional space to the dining area, making the room accessible for at least one hundred seated customers. She’d bought a more modern glass case to display her pies, and added fresh greenery to the outdoor patio. Despite her updates, the bakery’s business was a lot slower than I remembered. There was the early morning rush and the lunch rush, but there were few customers in between. The ones that did come in sporadically simply wanted their items “to go.” They didn’t want to sit down and chat like they used to —not that too many people spoke to me anyway. Outside of a “Hey, it’s been a long time!” “Good to see you again!” and a “Welcome back to the real America!”—no one paid me much mind. They weren’t the slightest bit fazed by my celebrity status. They acted like I was any other town person, failing to feed my need for attention. Even my family—with the exception of my mother, treated me as if I was just like them. They hardly ever asked me questions about the celebrity life. They were more concerned with filling me in on the mundane things I’d missed over the past four years: Quilting competitions, state fair baking contests, small town weddings, and of course, the latest BBQ fest on the Mississippi River. “Selena,” my mother handed me a notepad. “My afternoon waitress called in sick again. Go take care of that guy by the window. He already has a menu, just take down what he wants.” Before I could protest, she slipped into the kitchen. I had no desire to do any waitress work. I just wanted to sit in the kitchen and bake in oblivion every day: The less people who saw me in a tacky Sweet Seasons uniform, the better. I took my time walking over to the guy who was dressed in an oversized black polo shirt, light khaki pants, and a brown trucker hat that covered half his face. I waited for him to notice me and cleared my throat. “Welcome to Sweet Seasons. What do you want?” “I’m not completely sure yet…What’s the best thing on the menu?” “Ugh! How the hell am I supposed to know? Does it look like I work here?” “No…” he laughed. “I guess it doesn’t. I’ll have the blueberry drop cobbler to start.” “Great,” I took his menu and headed into the kitchen. “Blueberry drop cobbler for the baggy trucker guy by the window!” “Selena!” my mom shook her head. “What?” “Your customer service skills are awful, hun!” “What did I do wrong? And do I really have to wear these Wal-Mart jeans? I think my skin has

become allergic to cheap materials over the years. I mean, these do practically nothing for my figure and I’m pretty sure—” “Everyone has to wear the same jeans Selena Ross,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s part of the uniform. I unfortunately have to run to the store for a while. Can you at least act like you’re a real waitress while I’m gone? You’re great at that.” “I guess…Wait, what’s the best thing on the menu?” She smiled and handed me a plate of cobbler. “Your cherry bourbon pie.” “Really?” “Really,” she shoved me back out into the dining area. I walked back over to the trucker guy and held back a gasp. He’d taken off his hat and I realized he was the same guy I saw days ago in Autumn Wonder. He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life. Hands down. His big blue eyes were glistening underneath the bakery’s bright lighting and his silky brown hair was more defined today, more curly, and I saw that he had dimples, something I didn’t notice the other day. Why is he smiling at me? And why do I feel warm inside? I set his plate on the table and pulled a few napkins from my apron. I tried to say, “Here is your cobbler, did you want ice cream on the side?” but no words came out. I couldn’t stop staring at his face, taking in his perfectly sculpted features. I started to wonder how his lips would feel against mine, if he could— “Did you figure out what the best thing on the menu was?” I should say something witty right now…Something like, “Me”…No, that’s too bold, makes it seems like I’m trying too hard…Why the hell am I thinking about my next words? I’m not shy! “Yes?” he interrupted my thoughts and smiled his pearly whites again. “Um…Cherry bourbon pie?” “Sounds great. Can I get a whole box of that to go and a cup of your best coffee blend?” I nodded and bolted for the kitchen. I didn’t understand what was going on. I never got nervous around men. Ever. Not around Brad Pitt. Not around Channing Tatum. Not around Ian Somerhalder. I couldn’t believe some random stranger in khakis was affecting me. I took my time preparing a blend of our house favorite: Heritage. It was the mildest of the coffees, but it had a spicy cinnamon undertone that all my mom’s regulars loved. I boxed up the biggest cherry bourbon pie, took the coffee pot off the brew pad, and braced myself before going back into the dining room.

He’s just a regular guy…a regular sexy guy…keep it together! He watched me as I approached him, and I had to control every muscle in my body to make sure I didn’t blush. “This is the heritage blend,” I avoided his eyes as I poured the coffee. “It’s the house favorite, but it’s also extremely hot so make sure you let it cool for a few seconds.” I heard a familiar laugh outside the window and immediately looked up: Taylor and Jessica were strolling by hand in hand and she looked like she was nine months pregnant. Nine. Months. Pregnant. I need to go out there and confront them! Right now! How dare they do this to me? How can they still be together? The audacity! The gall! The nerve! Jessica must’ve called me a million times after I caught her and Taylor going behind my back, but I didn’t pick up once. I couldn’t. I listened to all her apologetic voicemails, read all her remorseful messages, but I was always too hurt to respond. I tried not to scream as I watched the two of them walk down the street, as I watched them lean on each other, laughing. I wondered what they were talking about, if they ever discussed how wrong they both were when it came to me. All of a sudden, I felt a hand tightly squeezing my wrist. I looked down and saw that I’d poured the entire pot of coffee into the sexy stranger ’s lap. “Shit! I mean, oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I dropped the steel pot into his lap and watched as his soft blue eyes darkened and flamed with anger. “Water…Water…Now,” his voice was a breathless whisper, but his eyes were blazing. “I said I was sorry. It’s not like I tried to pour it on you,” I rolled my eyes. “And I specifically told you it was hot! Why didn’t you listen? You didn’t feel anything until the pot was completely empty? I think you should’ve jumped up a long time ago! I refuse to take the blame for your—” He tightened his grip on my arm and narrowed his eyes. “Water…Now.” “Right,” I ran into the kitchen and filled two pitchers with ice. I held them under the tap until they overflowed and rushed back out to the seating area. I went back to his table and dumped the first pitcher of ice water into his lap, watching him squirm in discomfort. And then, seconds later—although he seemed to be calming down somewhat, I dumped the second one on him. He groaned and swore under his breath. He balled both of his fists and didn’t look up at me. Whoa…He must be really mad…He looks even sexier when he’s mad… “I really am sorry,” I cleared my throat. “I know it wasn’t completely your fault but…you definitely could’ve gotten up before I poured the whole pot on you. You didn’t feel those first few drops at all?” He shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh. “Un-fucking-believable...”

He grabbed the ledge of the table and slowly stood up. He took a wet twenty out of his pocket and placed it on the table. He grabbed his pink to-go box and finally looked me in my eyes. “Thank you very much.” I heard the bell over the door ring as he walked out.

Chapter 10 Ethan I sank into my ice-filled tub and groaned. Lola had declared my pants a “coffee-tastrophe” and told me to go home for the rest of the day. I couldn’t believe that Sweet Seasons waitress for blaming the wasted coffee on me. The audacity. The gall. The nerve! I wanted to threaten to sue Sweet Seasons once she was done babbling about how it wasn’t her fault, but I knew there wouldn’t be any point in that. I didn’t feel the coffee dripping into my lap at first because I was too busy looking at her, wishing she would look back at me. She was the same woman who fell backwards in Autumn Wonder days ago— except she wasn’t really a blonde and I still couldn’t figure out where I knew her from. Although I was furious with her, I couldn’t deny that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. Even with her raven-black hair in a simple ponytail, she was stunning. Absolutely stunning. I wondered what she would be like outside of work, if she would consider going out with me. I grabbed my phone from the ledge and called Barry. “Ethan?” he sounded surprised. “What’s going on buddy?” “I never want to hear that story about you and your stupid jellyfish again. A waitress poured a whole pot of scorching coffee in my lap today and I’m pretty sure she did it on purpose.” “Ouch! Did you go to the ER?” “No…Turns out our employee uniform pants are pretty heat resistant, but my thighs still hurt like crazy.” “Good to know. By the way, I got your reports earlier. I’m presenting them to the board first thing tomorrow morning.” “Great. Tell me something,” I suddenly thought about Lola. “Do we drug test our employees? Like, thoroughly?” “Um yeah? We give one before hire and two random ones a year. Why do you ask?” We need to increase it to six… “Just wondering. Listen, I’m not so sure about this expansion site now,” I sighed. “It seems like we have some pretty decent competition outside of Starbucks. A lot of locals are addicted to this place called Sweet Seasons. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to put them out of business by December, even though that would be ideal…” “Oh yeah, Sweet Seasons! They make great pies!” “You knew they existed?” I tried to sit up. “Duh! Look, don’t worry about that. They’re not a factor. Trust me. They’re a novelty but they’re not changing with the times. I doubt they’ll remain open much longer, especially with us in town.” “I don’t know…Everyone loves the way they make their food, even our own employees.”

“They are pretty good, so good that they’re not even willing to sell us their recipes,” he paused. “Wait. Why don’t you order each of their pies and express ship them to Boston? We could have our chef team recreate them and incorporate the best ones into all of our Southern menus. We did the same thing with another shop’s stuff all over the East Coast.” “Excellent idea. I’ll ship some tomorrow,” I hung up. Once my limbs were completely numb, I dragged my body out of the tub and wrapped myself in a robe. I walked into my bedroom and spotted the pink to go box from Sweet Seasons. I hadn’t had the chance to taste the cherry bourbon pie yet, but I refused to believe that one pie could be that amazing. I cut a slice and examined it. It looked just like the one we served at Autumn Wonder: sugar coated oats atop the surface, lightly toasted crust, and layers of cherries and red flavored filling peeping from both sides. I broke off a piece and tossed it into my mouth. I broke off another piece. Then another piece. Then I devoured the rest of the pie whole. Twenty out of ten… I went to Sweet Seasons for breakfast, lunch, and dinner over the next few days—ordering double of every pie: one for me and one for the chef team in Boston. Of course, I also wanted the chance to talk to that waitress again, but she was always pre-occupied. By the time she was free, it was time for me to head back to work or go on another pointless date. I tried getting her attention with my eyes, but she would blush and turn away, or rush into the kitchen each time. I even tried blatantly motioning for her to come over to my table, but she would just stare at me for a few seconds before running off. I didn’t know why, but I felt drawn to her even though our only conversation had been about my lunch order. I’d never been intrigued by a woman at first sight before—at first credit score check maybe, but never at first sight. After getting off late on Wednesday, I rushed over to Sweet Seasons to get another box of cherry bourbon pie before they closed. It really was addictive. I took a seat in the back and smiled as the sexy waitress approached my table. Her glossy black hair was hanging free today—in large loose curls that framed her face. Her cheeks were flushed red, and she was tucking in her lips for some reason. Does she normally blush this much? “Welcome to Sweet Seasons,” she didn’t make eye contact. “What do you want to order tonight?” I didn’t say anything. I wanted her to look at me.

After several seconds of silence, she slowly turned to face me and blushed again. I smiled. “Two boxes of cherry bourbon pie and two boxes of mile high chocolate pie.” “Okay. Give me a few minutes.” She came back out and set four boxes on the table. Before she could ask me if I wanted extra plates and plastic knives, I blurted out, “Have we met before? I feel like I know you from somewhere.” “You’re very funny,” she looked hurt all of a sudden. “Too bad I’ve already heard that joke a million times this week.” “Excuse me?” “I know you know exactly who I am. I’m on every cover of every magazine this week so don’t play stupid and don’t give me a hard time. Don’t you think I’m getting enough of that?” her voice cracked. “I’ll be back with your ticket.” What just happened? Am I missing something? I took out my phone and clicked on the internet app. No service. I made a mental note to have an intern look up all the current magazine covers. She walked back over to my table and wrote on a notepad. “Anything else for Mr. Smart-Ass before I tear this receipt out?” So she’s clearly not easy-going… “No. And for what it’s worth, I wasn’t trying to be smart. When you do what I do for a living, you don’t keep up with celebrities unless they play a sport.” “And I guess you don’t go to the movies either?” she pursed her lips. Jesus, she’s beautiful… “Not unless you’re implying that you want to go to a movie with me. What time should I pick you up Saturday?” “Ha! Never. Here’s your ticket. Pay at the front.” “You sure you don’t want to go out with me?” “Absolutely,” she blushed. We’ll see about that…

Chapter 11 Selena “Selena Anne Beauregard!” my mother called me from her office. “Get back here! Now!” I rushed into the room and shut the door behind me. “If this is about that coffee pot I broke last night —” “You broke another coffee pot?” “No…” “Sit down Selena,” she shook her head. “Since you were late again and missed our staff meeting this morning, I wanted to bring you up to speed. We’re about to have a rally sale…” “What? Why do you need to do a rally sale? Isn’t that for businesses that are failing?” She nodded. “Sweet Seasons has lost more money over the past three months than it has since we opened…Even though I own the place I’m barely breaking even. I’ve been paying everyone’s wages with my savings account, but I can’t afford to do that too much longer…I even told the staff to start looking for other jobs just in case we have to—” “Close? You’re closing?” “Not exactly,” she sighed. “I’m going to put up a fight, but I’ve been fighting for years and to be honest, I’m tired…I could handle Starbucks, but Autumn Wonder is something else. They’re a whole lot faster and their sweets are a whole lot cheaper. I won’t be able to compete with them forever.” I remembered what she’d told me about Autumn Wonder a couple days ago: How they literally stole the best sweets from small bakery businesses and incorporated them into their own menus. How they deliberately underpriced the local pastry shops until they could no longer compete and were forced to shut down. How they called her on two separate occasions and offered to pay for the recipes to all her pies, with particular interest in the cherry bourbon pie. Although she refused, they placed their own versions on their menu anyway and touted them as “the best pies in Arkansas.” I promised her I would never give Autumn Wonder a dime of my money again; I had no idea their business model was so disgustingly cutthroat. “I’ll help out in any way I can, mom. What do you need from me? You do know I’m rich, right? I could just give you enough money so you can stay open for as long as you want. How much do you need?” She laughed. “That would be very sweet of you darling, but you’d pretty much be throwing money in the wind. What I need first are customers. I know you can’t be here when the news cameras come next week, but I need you to make signs for outdoors. And you’ll have to help us cook up as many sweets as possible. We need to get people to come out and remember that Sweet Seasons does baking the best.” She and I talked for two more hours and it felt like we hadn’t missed a beat. She was completely vested in the life of her bakery and was determined to do whatever she could to save it. It was her passion in life and I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt for holding that against her four years ago. “I think I heard the bell ring, Selena. Could you go take care of that customer?”

“Okay, I’ll be right—” “Wait. Just to be sure,” she leaned back in her chair, “you mean to tell me that you were never pregnant by Matt Sterling? I never had a grandchild on the way?” How many times is she going to ask me this? “No mom. For the umpteenth time, I told you I was wearing a prosthetic baby bump.” She snorted. “I knew that! I just wanted you to say it again because it cracks me up! I still can’t believe you did that!” I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen. From the windows, I saw that “that customer” was the sexy stranger guy, but today he was dressed in a well-tailored black suit. He was looking towards the kitchen doors and smiling. Can he see me? I ducked down and moved to the other side of the room. I didn’t want him to see me like this. My hair was tragic. It was in a lifeless ponytail and there were bits of flour in it. My shirt had coffee stains and crumbs on it, proof of my poor attempt to slice pie and pour coffee at the same time. I looked at the employee schedule and saw that the next waitress wasn’t scheduled to come in for another hour. I decided to wait in the back for a while, hoping she would show up extremely early. She didn’t. I took a deep breath and walked out to his table, trying my best not to stare at him. “Welcome to Sweet Seasons. What can I get for you today?” “I’ll have the heritage coffee, preferably in a cup,” he smiled and I couldn’t help but blush. I still couldn’t figure out why he affected me, why the mere sight of him made me feel like a teenage girl with a high school crush. I didn’t even know his name, but every time he came in my heart sped up and I became nervous, so nervous that I went out of my way to avoid him. “Selena Ross, right?” he said as I filled his cup. “Well, what do you know? You are the only person here that actually recognized me. You want anything else?” “What made you come here? Are you researching the waitress-life for a new movie?” He can’t be serious… “Don’t you read the news?” “I don’t consider celebrity life news,” he looked into my eyes and I nearly lost it. “Plus, I don’t believe everything I read. I like to ask the direct source.” So he IS serious… “Well, since you’ve clearly been hiding under a rock, I’m here to get away, to disconnect myself from the world for a while,” I handed him a couple napkins. “It’s called being reserved.” I suddenly remembered that I needed to beg Joan to re-install the internet on my dinosaur phone. She’d canceled it two days ago when she caught me googling myself.

“You don’t want to sit down?” he smiled. No man should be allowed to be that attractive…It’s not even fair… “Um, I should probably attend to the other customers.” “What other customers?” I looked over my shoulder: No one else was there. No one else had been there all day… “Okay, but only for two minutes.” “That’s fine,” he took a sip of his coffee. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look a lot better in person than you do on TV.” “So you have seen some of my work before?” “A couple of episodes. My intern—I mean, my internet. I saw a couple of them on the internet the other day after I looked up ‘all the magazine covers’…What are you doing Saturday night?” “Straight to the point, are we?” I tried not to smile. “I’m not good at small talk.” “Well, I’ll be working all day.” “Would you like to go out with me whenever you get off?” his eyes brightened. “Dinner?” YES! Wait…no….Could I date a normal guy? A non-celebrity? Perhaps… A guy from Fayetteville? I don’t think so… “I can’t.” “Are you seeing someone? I’m sorry I didn’t ask that first.” “No, it’s not that, it’s—” “Then I insist.” My heart fluttered at the way he said “insist” and I almost said “Pick me up at nine,” but I came to my senses in seconds. “Look, you’re really attractive—really really attractive,” I could feel my cheeks reddening, “and you seem like a nice guy but...I don’t think you’re my type.” “Oh really? What’s your type?” Someone who can afford me… “Someone…with a high profile career…” He burst into laughter. “You mean someone with money? I never knew Selena Ross was a golddigger.”

“Apparently you didn’t know who I was at all,” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, that’s not exactly what I meant. I meant…Yes, someone who can afford me. He doesn’t have to be rich or over the top wealthy…just established.” He took another sip of his coffee and smirked. “What makes you think I’m not established?” I didn’t answer. I just stared. “Great answer. Are you implying that I would have to pay you to go on a date with me?” I sighed. “I’m saying that even if you could afford to take me out, you would probably—” “How much?” “What?” “If I was at a charity function and a night with you was up for bid, how much do you think it would go for?” More than you’ve seen in your entire life… I crossed my arms. “You know what? I’m going to pretend that this charity event has a low minimum for entry. So, the bidding for a date with me would probably start at a hundred thousand dollars.” His eyes widened and he shook his head. “That’s exactly what I mean,” I stood up and adjusted my apron. “See?” “See what?” he pulled a checkbook from his breast pocket and wrote for a few seconds. He stood up and strolled over to me. He tilted my chin with his fingertips and stared directly into my eyes. “I’m not opposed to a cheap date every now and then Miss Ross,” he whispered as he pressed the check into my hand. “I’ll pick you up from here at closing. See you Saturday.” What type of regular guy writes out a hundred thousand dollar check without breaking a sweat? What does he do for a living? I must have looked at that check a million times. The sexy stranger guy actually had a name: “Ethan Reynolds.” No one in my family had ever heard of him or seen him around, so they assumed he was another Wall Street guy who was here on vacation. They’d seen plenty of those types admiring our town’s lakes and grassy golf courses from time to time. For days, I incessantly dreamt of me and him having an amazing night out on the town. I floated through my shifts at Sweet Seasons, envisioning the two of us laughing as we strolled through the downtown streets, kissing passionately at the end of the evening, having nonstop sex in my hotel suite. But on Friday, the day before our date, something in me snapped. I didn’t want to date anyone else yet, no matter how sexy and charming he seemed. With the exception

of Matt Sterling, all my recent experiences with men ended terribly. Bradley Cooper, my former co-star, dumped me at the movies. At the movies! We’d only been hanging out a few weeks when he said he wanted to take our relationship to the next level. He took me to the set of his newest film—introducing me to everyone as “someone special,” flew me to an amazing restaurant at a Floridian resort, and held me close on the private flight back to New York. We spent the night in his apartment that evening—our first time having sex together, and the next day he said he wanted to take me on a simple date to the movies. He said he wanted to treat me to his own private box on the balcony level. Right before the film started, he left to get us some popcorn. Thirty minutes later, I wondered why he still hadn’t returned, but I figured he was busy signing autographs for fans who might’ve spotted him at the concession stand. Yet, as soon as the previews began to roll, I received a text from him: “Yeah…Sorry I couldn’t do this in person, but I don’t think me and you are going to work out…Good luck with your career :-) Tell me how the movie was later, okay?” After him, there was a brief fling with Ashton Kutcher: He invited me out to dinner in Los Angeles, and we spent the night discussing our lives. He said he didn’t want to be intimate until we knew each other better, and I thought that meant he really cared and wanted to build something special with me. We jetted across the country to secretly see each other for weeks, and after another night of talking on the phone, I decided to surprise him. I flew out to the set of his TV show and slipped inside his trailer, catching him in a make out session with another actress. I crossed my arms and expected an explanation, an apology, a full-fledged “I was lonely and I’ll never do this again if you take me back” plea, but all I got was, “Isn’t it Tuesday? You and me only hang out on Thursday and Friday. You haven’t figured that out?” And then there was Phillip Hartford—the older, supposedly more mature guy who splurged on me everywhere we went, professed his love after a mere month, and swore that I would be his wife one day. I couldn’t bear another disappointment, especially from someone I didn’t know anything about. I needed to remember why I fled to Fayetteville in the first place, and I needed to continue working on myself. I examined the check again and saw that he’d scrawled his phone number across the back. I dialed the number and waited a few seconds before calling. He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” “Hello. Is this Ethan Reynolds?” “Yes. May I ask who this is?” his voice was so sexy it almost made me change my mind. “This is Selena Ross. Are you busy?” “Not at all. How are you doing today Selena? Are you alright?” Stop thinking about his voice and focus! “Um…I’m okay…I’m actually calling because I don’t think me going out with you tomorrow is a good idea. I’m going through some things right now and I don’t need a distraction. I need to take things really slow for myself. Maybe we can go out… some other time?”

“Errr sure,” he sounded confused. “Okay. See you around,” I hung up.

Chapter 12 Ethan I’d never been rejected like that. A woman calling me and telling me she didn’t want to date me because she was “going through some things”? The day before? This was the second time she’d rejected me within a week, and it really bothered me for some reason. Women hardly ever rejected me. Twice. I felt silly for actually looking forward to our date, for allowing her to be the only thing I thought about at work. I guessed I didn’t have as much of an effect on her as I thought I did. She was an “actress” after all— her incessant blushing could have been her defense mechanism against embarrassed-for-me-laughter. Nonetheless, I’d wanted our first date to be special and I wasn’t sure why. I usually let the woman pick the location of the first date because it gave me a clue as to how she thought and let me know how she ranked against the requirements on my checklist. But this time, I didn’t even ask Selena what she enjoyed. I just wanted to spend time with her, to get to know her better. I considered using my private jet or having my yacht shipped down for a full night getaway, but my real name was engraved on all the seats, and I’d have to do some major explaining and possibly blow my cover. I decided to stay local and paid the Botanical Gardens two hundred thousand dollars to ensure that we would have the place to ourselves. I made arrangements to fly in a chef and two staff members from Boston’s best restaurant—Oleana, and arranged for us to be chauffeured around for a night on the town right after. My checklist clearly stated that I shouldn’t waste my time since she didn’t make any immediate plans to reschedule, but I didn’t want to let her get away. Part of it was an intense sexual attraction—I’d fantasized about her ever since we first met, but I couldn’t figure out what the other part was. For the first time, in as long as I could remember, I wanted to pursue someone again. I went to Sweet Seasons every day, but she purposely avoided me each time: She always made another waitress take my order, refused to look in my direction, and on the rare occasion that our eyes met, she turned away. I scribbled notes on napkins—“Are you okay?” “Was it something I said?” “So, we can’t just be friends?” “Can we talk about it?” “Did you really mean we could go out some other time?”—and asked the other waitresses to give them to her but I wasn’t sure if she ever received them. The one time that she had no other choice but to take my order since I came right at closing, she stuck to the Sweet Seasons’ script. Once she brought me my pie boxes, I asked her why she was ignoring me and she said, “I’m sorry. That’s not on our menu. Have a great night, sir.” I was convinced she wouldn’t answer my texts or phone calls, but I hoped she would eventually call to reschedule our date. Several days passed and she never did.

“Today is the day, team!” Lola stood atop a table. “Today we are going to the university’s opening game and we are going to seduce them with our pumpkin spice latte, our delectable hot chocolate, and our rich and creamy deluxe coffee!” The team members clapped loudly and cheered. Lola doled out instructions for transporting the coffee machines and cups, and handed me a stack of flyers. She was going against company policy by taking merchandise out of the store, but I couldn’t say anything without arousing suspicion. She handed me another stack of flyers and I cleared my throat. “Didn’t you already promote things at your grand opening three months ago? Isn’t it a bit unethical to take our products and warmers to a football game?” She clutched her chest as if she’d just been shot. “We never had a real grand opening. Corporate thought they could open up a business here and people would just fly in. It might work that way up north, but this is the South. You have to prove you can be trusted down here, and you have to earn that trust. “What better way to earn trust than to offer your products at local events? Like football games? No other coffee shop here does that, so when it gets cold outside and the game is dragging on and on and the fans don’t want to go home, they’ll all be clamoring for a cup of our hot chocolate or one of our creamy deluxe coffees.” That’s actually a really great idea… She looked at her name tag then looked at mine. “Yep, mine still says manager and yours stills says barista. Keep questioning my actions and yours will say unemployed.” I held back a laugh. “I’m sorry Lola.” “It’s okay! Every coffee bean wants to be a part of the coffee! It takes time to get grounded though, give it some time.” After selling every ounce of coffee we’d brought to the football game, Lola agreed to let the team go home if we promised to come in an hour early the next day. I untied my apron and sighed. I was still upset about Selena canceling our date. No matter how hard I tried to let it go, I couldn’t. I called to indefinitely cancel the flight for the chef and his team and headed to Sweet Seasons. I wanted to know about those so-called “things” she was going through. I’d been sitting at the coffee counter for five minutes when an older woman, who looked very much like Selena, handed me a menu. “You back for more pie?” she smiled. “No...Not today,” I stopped and took a long look at her. She was the spitting image of Selena: From her small button nose, to her deep gray eyes, to the very heart shape of her face.

I would’ve thought she was Selena’s mother if I didn’t know any better, but I knew that was impossible. My intern’s report said Selena’s family lived in Texas, so I shook it off as an eerie coincidence. “Um,” I cleared my throat. “I’m looking for a particular waitress that works here…Silky black hair, pretty gray eyes, really beautiful. She’s got—” “Selena?” “Yeah,” I tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh. She was off today, darling.” “Does she work tomorrow?” “Is she in some type of trouble?” she looked concerned. “No. I just need to talk to her about something…something kind of important.” “I see,” she smiled. “Well, I can’t give you her work schedule, hun. I’m sure you’ll run into her again at some point.” “Right. Well, thank you very much,” I stood and pushed my stool back up to the counter. “Are there any good bars around here?”

Chapter 13 Selena My coworker handed me a napkin before dropping me off at my hotel. I unfolded it and saw another handwritten note from Ethan: “If I attempted to sue you for potential third degree burns would that make you talk to me? Can I call you? I really want to talk to you…PS—You looked really pretty yesterday…” I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to reject his advances. Every time I saw him my heart did a cartwheel, and no matter how hard I tried to act unaffected, I failed miserably. I felt like some of the women in the movies I played, the ones who were left speechless and flustered by a mere wink from the male lead. What’s more was that Ethan pursued me without even being around: Every morning there was a new white and fluffy teddy bear wearing a golden “Looking forward to that some other time date with you” necklace waiting for me. He even waited for me to get off work some nights, offering to give me a ride home, but I turned him down and slipped into Joan’s car each time. Although each gesture was sweet, I was becoming skeptical of him. I wasn’t sure if he was some undercover reporter trying to get me to talk, and I still couldn’t believe he’d never heard of me before. I unlocked the door to my hotel suite and saw Joan typing away at the desk. “Joan?” “Yes?” she looked up at me. “I know this may sound crazy, but could you fly to New York and get me some more clothes? They can be a mix of casual and couture. I have a contact at—” “Burberry, Chanel, and Neiman Marcus. I sent for some outfits yesterday,” she closed her laptop. “They should be here tomorrow morning.” Either she’s really that good or I’ve never had a good personal assistant… She sighed. “Anyway, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. What do you want to hear first?” “The good news…” I shut the door and sat on the couch. “Okay. The screenplay you submitted to Universal Studios three years ago was green lit this morning. You have a meeting with the directors in February, so congratulations! Also, Matt wanted me to give you this,” she handed me a small beige envelope. I pried the flap open and pulled out a beautiful piece of silk white paper. A wedding invitation: Because you have shared in our lives by your friendship and love, we Melody Nicole Carter And Matthew Ryan Sterling,

together with our parents, invite you to share the beginning of our new life together when we exchange marriage vows at Heartwood Lake 2665 Raleigh LaGrange Road Memphis, Tennessee “He wants me to come to his wedding? After everything I put him through?” “He does,” she nodded. “He wants to leave that crazy stuff in the past and start all over, especially since you two were good friends in the beginning. He also wants me to emphasize that this is a private event, so no mention of this to the press and whoever you choose to bring as your date can’t be high profile.” I ran my fingers across the intricate envelope and smiled. “I’m honored...” “Are you ready for the bad news?” she looked as if it was hurting her to keep it inside. “Yes…” “I know you’re already aware that Cover Girl decided not to renew you as a spokesperson for their next campaign, but as of this morning, Macy’s pulled their holiday endorsement of you as well. They replaced you with Taylor Swift.” Again? It was bad enough she’d taken my place in the Sweet Tennessee film: They’d wanted to start shooting it next month, but I couldn’t bear being seen in public yet, so I had to back out. “I can’t believe this Joan!” I covered my face and cried. “I didn’t know he was married! He pursued me! I’m not that horrible of a person…or maybe I am! Maybe I really am…” “You’re just involved in a scandal. You’re not a horrible person. It happens to everyone at some point, and the truth is bound to come out eventually. We just need to keep preparing for when this all blows over and then—” “Do you remember that news story about me saving those baby pigeons that fell out of a tree in Central Park?” I made no attempt to wipe my tears. “It was everywhere…‘Selena Ross Saves Baby Birds.’ The animal rights group even gave me a medal.” She shrugged. “What does that have to do with anything?” “I made my assistant knock their nest down with a brick first…Then I saved them.” “You did what!” “See? I am horrible…I did it because I was only mentioned in two papers that week and I wanted to be mentioned in them all…You remember that story about how I canceled my appearance at the Children’s Film Festival fifteen minutes beforehand so I could fly to Australia to visit that fan who was dying from cancer?” “Please don’t tell me anything else.” “She never had cancer,” I sniffled. “She wasn’t even a fan. She was a purse collector with a one of a kind Chanel bag I wanted but she wasn’t willing to accept money over the internet. I had to buy it in person within twenty four hours or she would’ve sold it to someone else. I made that other stuff up so

I wouldn’t seem selfish.” “Okay,” Joan shook her head. “No more confessions. Deal?” “Those coffee shop friends I’m photo’d with every Wednesday? They’re all actresses under contract…I pay them to look like they’re my friends, so it looks like I’m down to earth and hang out with regular people because I can’t get anybody to hang out with me for free!” Joan walked over and patted me on the back. “This is all karma!” I bawled. “I’m a fraud! A walking joke! This scandal is going to expose me! It’s going to ruin everything!” “It’s only temporary Selena,” she spoke softly. “Scandals come and go every other day. You’ll be on top of the world again in no time. I’ll make sure of it.” I wanted to believe her, but I’d never been involved in a scandal before and it was beginning to take its toll on me. I’d gone to CVS every day, picking up the latest tabloids, reading them cover to cover, discarding them before she was able to catch me reading them. I’d snuck away to the hotel’s business center in the mornings, reading all the blogs and celebrity news sites, crying as I read what people really thought about me. I even read about how Phillip was telling his side of the story, saying that he “had a moment of weakness” that was spurred by “a seductive Selena Ross” coming onto him. He said he tried to break things off with me multiple times, but I threatened to go to the press. He said he was happy that the story had broken, happy so that he could finally work on things with his “loving wife” and family. According to what I’d seen, the scandal was only getting worse, and I felt more alone in Fayetteville than I did in New York. There were no paparazzi waiting around to ask me about my day or snap pictures of me walking down the street. There were no fans rushing up to me in the middle of the sidewalk for an autograph, no special treatment offered at restaurants or public places. I longed for some daily press about my whereabouts, and being stuck in the middle of nowhere and not being able to command any attention from the locals was beginning to eat away at my soul. I needed some attention. Badly. I contemplated calling TMZ to let them know I was in Fayetteville, but I decided against it at the last minute. “I have to go get drunk,” I rolled off the couch. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

Chapter 14 Ethan I took a seat at Farrell’s and motioned for the bartender. “How much for two glasses of scotch on the rocks?” “I’ll make ‘em free, if you take that crazy karaoke lady home,” he pointed towards the back. “Everyone else is too drunk to do it.” I looked over my shoulder and spotted a woman dancing on a small platform stage, singing into a microphone. She was facing the karaoke screen so I couldn’t see her face, just the back of her jeans and light pink shirt. “So why can’t you seeee!” she sounded like a cat that needed to be put out of its misery. “You belong with meee!” Hell no. I’ll just pay for the drinks… “I don’t think so,” I took out my wallet. “How much do I—” “Please man! Please!” “Thank you everyone!” the karaoke lady screamed. “That was Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong with Me!’ I’m going to sing it one more time and I want everyone to raise your glass and sing along!” I shook my head. “No thanks. I don’t think I can deal with that tonight. I’d rather—” “I’m begging you!” “Fine…Where does she live?” He slid me two large glasses of scotch. “She claims she’s staying at some hotel up the street. Just get her out of here as soon as possible. It’s not even karaoke night!” “Will do,” I downed a glass of scotch and slammed it onto the counter. This country under cover boss thing was starting to annoy me: Lola was a really good manager but she was extreme. She’d made me promise to stay late all next week so she could quiz me on the history of coffee production and distribution—things that weren’t even in the employee handbook. I’d gone on two dates earlier in the week and both women bored me to tears: One of them spent dinner lecturing me on the geography of Arkansas, and the other one was just plain weird: She brought her collection of pet goldfish along—in three Ziploc bags, and made me watch YouTube videos of her swimming with her dogs. “I don’t mean to rush you,” the bartender cut through my thoughts, “but she’s about to start a new song and I can’t deal with another one. You want me to pour the rest of that drink in a paper cup?” “No, that’s okay. Thanks,” I downed the rest of it and stood up. I walked towards the stage and tapped the woman on the shoulder. She didn’t turn around. “This next song is for all my fans!” she tripped over a stool and stood back up. “All my fans that I apparently treat like shit! This one is for you!” I tapped her shoulder again and she moved to other side of the stage, still not turning to face me. She began to sing. “At first I was afraid…I was petrified…Kept thinking I could never live without you my side…”

The bar patrons booed. Loudly. A group of them threw straws and crumpled napkins at her. “And so you’re back! From outer space! I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face!” she was yodeling now. “I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key! If I had known for just one second you’d be back to bother me!” “Please make it stop!” the bartender yelled from across the room. I stepped onstage—dodging another barrage of crumpled napkins, and turned her around. “Selena?” “Oh no, not I! I will survive! I've got all my life to live, I’ve got all my love to give, and I’ll survive! I will survive! Hey! Hey!” “I think it’s time for me to take you home now,” I took the mic away from her. “What! I’m not ready to go!” she tried to snatch the mic back and fell onstage. “Okay,” I tossed the mic to a patron sitting at a table and pulled Selena to her feet. “You want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” “I’m not going anywhere with you! I don’t know you!” “Interesting choice,” I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder, ignoring the pounding of her fists on my back. The patrons clapped and cheered as I carried her outside: “Thanks man!” “You’re my hero!” “Get her out of here!” Once we were halfway down the block, I set her down on a bench. “Are you okay Selena?” “I was perfectly fine until you ruined my night! Everyone in there loved me! They were all clapping! Didn’t you hear them? You just had to come and ruin it didn’t you? You just had to—” she bent over and vomited. “Shhh. Try not to talk,” I pushed her hair away from her face. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m Selena Ross! I’m a goddamn celebrity! I’m supposed to be telling you what to do! And I’m supposed to…I’m supposed to have room temperature water right now! Right now!” Why does she sound so Southern all of a sudden? “Do you really need some water, Selena?” “Are you going back to the bar? I’ll come with you!” she tried to stand up and fell into the street. “Umm no, that’s okay,” I put her back on the bench. “I’ll be right back.” I rushed back to the bar, got some water from the bartender, and found Selena slumped over when I came outside. I slowly positioned her body upright and handed her a cup. She took a sip and blinked. Then she vomited. Again and again. “How many drinks did you have tonight?” I rubbed her back. “Do you even remember?” “Of course I remember!” she showed me her arm. There were twelve black slash marks. “I had seven…seven drinks!” she pulled her arm back. “Wow,” I handed her another cup of water. “Try to drink some more.” She was silent for a while, looking up at me every now and then, reaching out whenever she needed another cup of water. She looked like she was about to drift into a deep sleep, but she began to cry. “I was the new Reese Witherspoon. Did you know that?” she wailed. “Have you ever seen Sweet Home

Alabama?” “Is it a TV show or something?” “It’s a romantic comedy…They were going to re-make it, but they were going to change a few things and call it Sweet Tennessee. I didn’t even have to audition for it! They handpicked me! But then…they replaced me because they wanted to start filming next month and I told them I couldn’t come.” “Maybe it’s for the best.” “It’s karma! And I deserve every last drop!” she slumped off the bench. “I’ve done some really horrible things. Some really really horrible things.” They can’t be that bad… I pulled her back up. “Like what?” “I slept with a married man, a married man! He had kids…and a wife! I didn’t know he was married at first though, I swear. He left that part out!” She bent over and let out more puke. “I got left at the altar and twisted the publicity in my favor…I cut my own mother off for four years, my own mom…I was a bitch to all my fans—I showed up to perfume signings and refused to sign anything, even though they’d been waiting outside for hours… And this one time, at a movie premiere, this girl won a contest to meet me. She told me she drove like eleven hours from her college just to come, and I didn’t even let her take a picture with me…because her shoes were scuffed…And on top of all that, everyone in America hates me right now because they think I’m a home-wrecker!” “I just wanted somebody to love me back,” she cried. “Is that too much to ask for? Is it too much for someone to actually want me? For someone to actually give a damn?” Why am I still sitting here? Why haven’t I run away yet? This is A LOT of emotional baggage… “Um no…It’s not,” I took off my shirt and wiped her face with it. “You should probably try to—” “Do you know I have to buy my own flowers? That’s how pathetic I am…I’m a celebrity and I have to buy my own flowers whenever I date someone…” “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean by that…Your own flowers?” She nodded. “I always made a point to tell every guy I dated that I really liked flowers. A lot. I specifically said, no sonata lilies—I tell the press those are my favorites, but that’s not really true…I like daffodils, irises, tulips, and rare breeds of roses…I would say ‘I would love to have flowers waiting for me in my dressing room, or in my apartment when I get home for the day, or…anywhere. I want to feel special just like the characters I play in my movies’…And no one ever bought them for me. No one.” “So you bought them yourself?” “Yes,” she choked up. “And I would write out a note like the guy had sent them to me, just in case someone happened to get curious and look at the tag…I had some sent every time I did an interview, every time I started a new film project or TV episode, and every time I attended a movie premiere… Do you know how many flowers that is?” I shook my head. “It’s a lot of fucking flowers! I have a preferred customer card from a florist, a florist! That’s the main reason why I canceled on you. I’m tired of buying my own flowers, I’m tired of being lied to, and I want to take things extremely slow…You’re sexy and all, but I know you’re just another guy waiting in line to hurt me. You’ll use me and leave, just like the others.”

I highly doubt that… “Selena, I would never—” “Didn’t you hear all those things I told you?” she shook her head. “All those things I did? I’m not a good person!” “Hush, Selena. You’re drunk.” Extremely drunk, yet still really gorgeous. That’s a first… “I’m not drunk,” she struggled to sit up. “I just don’t feel well. Can you wipe my face again?” “Sure,” I leaned over to wipe her face but she vomited on my hands as soon as I touched her. “I swear I didn’t mean to do that…” I sighed. “I’ll go get some towels.”

Chapter 15 Selena I opened my eyes and realized I was lying on a bench on Main Street. There were no cars whirring down the road and no business’ lights were on. I could hear a soft wind whipping against the lamp posts every now and then, but everything else was silent. What time is it? “Are you feeling any better? Are you able to sit up?” Ethan smiled at me and waved his fingers in front of my face. How long have I been laying here? How long has he been watching me? And why is he so damn attractive? I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to lay there and look at him until I fell asleep again. “I um…Yes,” I slowly sat up. I wasn’t sure why he was only wearing a muscle shirt, but I tried my best not to stare. It was clear he worked out. Crystal clear. His broad shoulders gave way to chiseled chest muscles that I could easily see through his thin white shirt. I wonder what the rest of his body looks like… “Where is your hotel, Selena?” “I think it’s like eight blocks up… Can we please walk there now?” “Sure,” he stood up and reached for my hands. “Take your time standing up.” He wrapped his arm around both my shoulders, allowing me to lean on him as we walked. He smells amazing… We walked the first few blocks in complete silence, and every time I looked up at him he would look back down at me and smile—making me blush, making me feel like a teenager all over again. When we were a block away, I realized I needed to apologize. “I’m sorry for anything offensive I might’ve said tonight. And I’m sorry you had to see me like this…I’m usually more composed.” “It’s okay. I’ve seen worse.” “Really?” “No, but I thought it would make you feel better if I lied,” he laughed. “How much longer will you be in town?” “Four weeks or so, maybe more. I don’t have much to go back to in New York City…You’re not some secret reporter here to expose me for something, are you?” “No Selena,” he pulled me closer. “I’m definitely not.” “Hmmm…Well, between you and me, I usually have to pay people to stick around me—for photo opps, you know? Or I have to trick them into it.” He looked down at me and smirked, “How ironic.” Is he laughing at my misery? Does he think this is ‘entertainment’? I need to stop talking…This is

clearly a bad case of word vomit… He let me go and opened the door to the hotel lobby. He led me onto the elevator and walked me up to my room. “Thank you for walking me back,” I swiped my card at the door. “Thank you very very much.” “You’re welcome. Are you going to be okay?” “Could you stay the night to make sure I am?” Please tell me I did NOT say that out loud… He ran his hand through his hair and grinned. “Make sure you take some aspirin whenever you wake up.” “Oh! So I’m not good enough for you?” Oh my god… “You’re drunk. I would never take advantage of you.” “I only had five drinks! I’m completely coherent! Do you want me to walk in a straight line for you? I can!” “Good night Selena,” he kissed my cheek and I almost melted into the carpet. “I’m sure you’ll feel better in the afternoon.” “You’re really not going to stay?” I put on my best drunken seductive look and bit my lip. “Are you scared you won’t measure up or something?” “Measure up?” he raised his eyebrow. “Yeah. I said it. Measure. Up.” “Selena Ross,” he sighed, “you’ve told me on two separate occasions that you would like to take things slow…Since I’m not a fan of drunken sex, or sex with a woman I’d really like to know better first, I’m more than happy to honor that. But if we ever do get the chance to have sex, I’m one hundred percent sure you’ll feel that one thing I’ve never worried about is measuring up.” My cheeks were on fire. I couldn’t get any more words to come out of my mouth. “You should get some sleep. Call me whenever you want to reschedule our date…If you still want to,” he kissed my forehead and walked away.

Chapter 16 Ethan I did the right thing…I should not have stayed with her last night…I should not have stayed with her last night… “This is the last date I’m going on without my checklist, Barry,” I answered as soon as he called my phone. “What? Why?” “Why?” I scoffed. “There’s a reason why people have standards for who they date. Have you ever thought about that?” “Yeah, reasonable standards—not ‘she must read these particular books and not watch these types of movies’ standards. Every woman isn’t going to be a perfect match, Ethan. Just roll with it. By the way, could you send us two more sour cream apple pies from Sweet Seasons? The chef team thinks they’ve perfected it, but the board wants to be completely sure before we send out the official recipe to all the stores. Oh, and we need like five more cherry bourbon ones, that pie is giving us some problems.” “You got it. I’ll ship some tomorrow morning. Call you later,” I hung up. I was thirty minutes early for my brunch date at a winery and I was dreading meeting another weird woman, even though she “seemed” normal a couple days ago. In fact, I’d wanted to call and cancel earlier, but I decided against it. The only woman I really wanted to date was Selena Ross, and as much as I hated not knowing if she would ever agree to see me, there was a part of me that enjoyed the uncertainty. Sure, she seemed a bit high-strung, and she should probably never sing publicly again, but for whatever reason, I found her quite charming. I checked my phone all day, hoping to see a text or a call from her, hoping that she would finally give me a chance. “Good afternoon Ethan,” a pretty blonde woman tapped my shoulder. “Good afternoon Sandy,” I stood up and pulled out her chair. Before I could ask her anything, a wine connoisseur came over to our table with several glasses of wine. He explained the different flavors and fermenting processes and encouraged us to take a tour of the vineyard that was out back. “This is a whole lot of wine,” Sandy blushed. “I didn’t know you were going to buy the five thousand dollar package. I would’ve contributed…” “Don’t worry about it. I would’ve never let you pay,” I went down my list of small talk questions for the next hour—I was actually getting better at it. I found out that she was normal, completely normal. She was a part-time schoolteacher, a classics book collector, and a fan of contemporary rock music. I couldn’t tell her my real occupation, but I did tell her that I loved sports, coffee, and books. We even argued over the best British novels. She swore by Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, I swore by George Orwell’s 1984.

As the connoisseur brought over another tray of wine, I debated on whether or not I wanted to ask her out again. I didn’t know if Selena would call me by the end of the weekend, and there was an indie rock concert on Saturday that I was sure Sandy would enjoy. I took a sip of vintage red wine and decided to go for it. “Sandy, today was great. I really enjoyed spending time with you. Would you like to—” “You look like you have nice toes.” “Umm okay. Thanks? Anyway, I was about to ask if—” “I like to lick toes.” I dropped my glass to the floor. “Excuse me? What did you say?” “I. Like. To. Lick. Toes.” I looked around for the waiter. I needed the check. Now. “You wear a size thirteen don’t you?” she licked her lips. “I can guess any man’s shoe size within ten seconds. Thirteen is a good size.” “I need to go to the restroom for a minute. Will you please excuse me, Sandy?” “Did you know that the toes are some of the most sensitive areas of the body?” she dropped down to the floor and began to untie my shoes. “I can distract your body’s urine glands with a few strategic licks.” “No, that’s okay,” I moved my foot away from her and signaled for the check. “My feet were already licked today. Thank you for your offer though…I appreciate that.” She jumped up and hugged me. “You lick your own toes too? I didn’t think I’d ever find someone like me!”

Chapter 17 Selena I woke up around four in the afternoon, with a mind-numbing headache and an itchy dry throat. Even though it was hours past my drunken escapade, I could still taste the sour tang of vodka on my lips. I looked over at my nightstand and saw a bottle of Tylenol pills, a glass of orange juice, and a handwritten note: “Selena, I’m flying to New York today to interview potential publicists for you. All your clothes are in the living room and your mother wants the bakery signs done by Wednesday. I’ll be back tomorrow night—Cheer up, Joan. PS: I think you have a secret admirer...” I didn’t know what “secret admirer” Joan was talking about, but I was wishing I’d stolen her away from Matt years ago. Even though she and I didn’t always see eye to eye, she really was the perfect assistant. She could pretty much read my mind and I hardly had to ask her to do anything because she’d already done it. I washed down the pills with the juice and wearily climbed out of bed. I walked over to my balcony and stepped onto the landing. The skies above were an ugly gray and the rain was falling relentlessly. I looked down at the parking lot and saw a woman stumbling out of a taxi cab, carrying her heels in one hand and her purse in the other. I shuddered as a not-too-distant-memory crossed my mind: The last time I’d gotten ridiculously drunk was at one of Phillip’s cast parties. He didn’t let me hang off his arm like he normally did when we were out of town or at the beach, and he only spoke to me a few times during the night. He’d told me beforehand that he didn’t want us to show any displays of affection because he wanted to share his time equally amongst the cast and producers; like the fool that I was, I went along with it. I didn’t ask why his “soon-to be-ex-wife” was there, why he was allowing her to hang on his arm, or why he only came around me when she wasn’t around. I’d been conditioned to believe that it was all a facade and that his daughters scoured the internet daily and needed to see their parents looking happy together at public events. The last time he came around me that night, I was vomiting over the toilet. I’d had one too many drinks and asked if he could drive me home and take care of me. He patted my back, waited for me to finish hurling, and escorted me outside. He held my hand down the brownstone’s steps and whistled for a cab. Not his personal driver that had picked me up hours earlier. A cab. He didn’t get in the cab with me. He didn’t give the driver any money. He simply said, “Take her home please,” and shut the door. I painted the driver ’s cab with more vomit and eventually stumbled into my condo—grateful that for once, the paparazzi were nowhere to be found. I fell asleep on my bathroom floor and expected to wake up to dozens of missed calls and texts from Phillip. I expected him to be sitting in my living room with a big bowl of soup and a brilliant bouquet of flowers, but there was nothing. I checked my phone and saw only one message from him: “If you’re feeling any better, come over tonight.” I pulled the balcony’s doors closed and sighed. I needed something happy to think about.

I dragged myself into the living room and gasped, pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. There were bouquets of flowers everywhere—white and red roses, yellow daffodils, pink tulips, purple irises, and several ones I didn’t even recognize. They completely covered the floor—encasing the racks of designer clothes Joan had sent for. The most stunning bouquet, a six foot bunch of bright yellow roses that stood near the door, had an ivory envelope dangling from its stems. I pulled it down and read the note: “Dear Selena, I hope you’re feeling a lot better today…I’m still looking forward to taking you out some time. I promise I’m not “just another guy” waiting in line to hurt you and I hope I get a chance to prove that. Your not-so-secret admirer, Ethan. PS—You should never have to buy your own flowers.” Oh my god… I didn’t remember telling him what type of flowers I liked, but I must have because all my favorites were surrounding me and there wasn’t a sonata lily in sight. I definitely didn’t mean to open up about my past relationships, but I guessed the liquor had brought that out of me too. I wanted to call him immediately, to thank him for the flowers and say, “Let’s go out tonight!” but I held back. Sure, he was insanely hot, the starring guy in all my recent dreams, and all his nice gestures made me melt. But I wasn’t sure what his real motives were. I was still trying to figure out if he was some undercover reporter who wanted to get close to me for a big story. I decided I would call him tomorrow. I was too drained to do much of anything and my muscles were beginning to ache. All I wanted to do was buy a bunch of bottled water from the hotel’s gift shop, have some soup delivered, and pass out in bed for the rest of the day. I threw on a robe and grabbed my room key. I pulled the door open and saw Ethan standing right in front of me. I blinked at him. “I’m sorry, Selena…I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he bent down and grabbed a white paper bag off the floor. “I was just dropping this off before I did some errands. There’s six water bottles at room temperature, a fruit plate, and three different soups inside…I wasn’t sure what type you liked.” This is just a dream…You are still passed out in your bed…You will vomit any second now and wake up…This is just a dream… I pinched myself. Then I reached over and pinched him. Hard. “Oww!” he backed away. “Did I offend you or something?” So this IS real… “No…I’m sorry,” I hesitantly took the bag from him. “I was um… testing something. Thank you… very much.” “No problem,” he scratched his head and turned to walk away. “Wait, Ethan…You want to come in and talk for a second?” “Sure,” he looked into my eyes as he walked into my suite. I turned away from him and closed the door. “I was going to call you tomorrow…” “Really? And why is that?” “To tell you thank you for all the flowers. I like them a lot, especially the roses.”

“You’re very welcome. Shouldn’t you be in bed still?” he looked concerned. “I was just going out to get some water from downstairs but I umm…I uh,” I couldn’t believe I was turning into mush in front of a regular guy. “I guess I already have that from you, huh?” I motioned for him to follow me into my bedroom and sit on the sofa. I sat in the armchair across from him and folded my legs. “So,” I avoided looking at him. “What type of errands do you have to—” “Do you want me to stop pursuing you, Selena?” What? “No…What makes you say that?” “You always avoid looking at me whenever I’m around you, unless you’re drunk. Are you afraid you’ll hurt my feelings if you tell me you’re not interested?” I am interested… “No…I’m,” I looked right at him and sighed, “I’m not used to dating regular guys…” “I see…What’s the opposite of a regular guy?” “Someone famous or ridiculously wealthy, like a billionaire or something.” He smiled then shook his head. “Well, I’m definitely just a regular guy then. Does that bother you?” “No…Well…Are you going to judge me if I tell you something personal?” “Never.” I leaned back in my chair. “Ever since I was a little girl, my dream was to marry someone famous. I wanted to be the next Julia Roberts and I wanted to marry somebody like Brad Pitt… As soon as I won my first modeling contract, my acting career kind of took off overnight and I wanted to find my dream husband even more so…I’m not trying to sound shallow or anything, but for the past four years I’ve only dated famous guys because I wanted to fulfill that dream.” “Hmmm. Have any of these famous guys you’ve dated been nice to you?” “In the beginning they were…But I guess overall they weren’t...That doesn’t mean I won’t ever find someone though.” “Famous?” I didn’t answer him. I looked down at the paper bag I was holding in my hands. “Okay,” he stood up. “Well, I sincerely hope you feel better soon and—” “You’re dumping me?” “Dumping you?” he looked confused. “How can I dump you if we’re not—No, I’m not dumping you. I’m—” “Moving on to the other fish in the sea?” He nodded. “Something like that…But for the record, you’re a very beautiful woman and I’m sure you’ll find whatever you’re looking for soon. I’m going to—” “I never said I wasn’t interested in dating you, Ethan…I am interested, I just—there are a lot of issues, and if you knew them, you wouldn’t want to date me anyway. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t a good person. I’m not.” “Selena, you should stop saying—”

“No. Listen,” I figured I might as well be honest for a change. “A week ago, my assistant gave me a reflective journal. She told me to fold two pages in the back and label them ‘self-improvement.’ One page was supposed to be a list of negatives—things I regretted doing over the past four years, things I needed to improve on, and things I would never do again. The other page was for positives—good things I’ve done for other people, things I’ve done well besides acting, and things I don’t need to change about myself….” “Okay…” he looked even more confused. “I still haven’t written anything on the positive pages. I can’t think of anything positive I’ve done over the past four years. Not one thing. If I did do something that seemed selfless it was only because I got something out of it in return—like publicity…I’m sure you wouldn’t want to date someone like that so I’m saving you the trouble. You should run while you can...” I gripped the paper bag and looked down, waiting for him to say, “Thanks for the warning, sweetheart. See you around,” but those words never came. I looked back up and saw that he was still standing there, grinning. “I’ll take my chances, Selena…People can change. Are those your only issues?” “No…” I wanted to trust him but, “Did you really not know who I was when we first met? Like, you’d never seen any of my films or read anything about me? Ever?” “I honestly had no idea. I’ve never kept up with celebrity culture.” “And you promise you’re not a reporter?” “I promise,” he looked sincere. I crossed my arms and bit my lip. If he was a real reporter, he wouldn’t have had flowers delivered and personally brought soup over. He would’ve videoed my drunkenness last night and been well on his way to New York to expose me on every national network by now. He would’ve snapped pictures of me in a Sweet Seasons’ uniform, sent them to every press junket possible, and the paparazzi would’ve landed here in droves. And he wouldn’t be that hot…Reporters aren’t hot at all… I decided to give it a try. “Would you like to go out with me tonight, Ethan? How about going to the movies?” “No. I don’t think so,” he shook his head. “Not tonight.” “What! Why?” “Because you’re sick.” “I’m not sick. I’m hung-over. There’s a difference,” I snapped. “Are you playing games with me? Did I just spill out bits of my soul to you for nothing?” He shook his head and laughed heartily. “What’s so funny? Are you laughing at turning down an A-list celebrity? Does that make you feel good about yourself? Does that—” He walked over to my chair and scooped me into his arms like I was a bride—effectively shutting me up. He carried me over to my bed and gently set me down, letting his fingers linger against my skin a few seconds longer than necessary. He took the paper bag out of my hands and emptied the contents onto my nightstand. He arranged the soups and water into a small semi-circle, and opened the fruit plate—carefully slicing the orange and

pineapple chunks into smaller, fork-friendlier pieces. What is he doing? When he was done with the fruit, he reached behind my head and fluffed my pillow. He was close enough to kiss me, and for a second I thought he was about to—I wanted him to, but he simply brushed his lips against my cheek. He unfolded the silk blanket at the end of my bed and delicately draped it over me. He began tucking me underneath it, smiling at me with each soft and tight tuck. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m not a child,” I tried my best to sound annoyed. “I don’t need to be tucked into bed! I told you I was interested in going out with you and you turn me down? Is that revenge for me canceling on you last time? Hello! I know you can—” “Shhh,” he put his finger atop my lips and brought his face close to mine. “I would love to go out with you, Selena. I think I’ve made that more than clear for the past two weeks. But after last night, I’m sure you still have a headache and would rather stay in bed all day today. Isn’t that true?” I felt my heart skip a beat and nodded. “What about tomorr—” I tried to ask, but he snapped my mouth shut with his fingers. “Reschedule it whenever you feel better. Do you need me to get you anything else today? Juice? Aspirin?” I shook my head. “Good,” he caressed my face before leaving the room. “Try to stay in bed for the rest of the day.” “You’re dressed mighty fancy for closing duty, darling,” my mom looked up from her recipe book when I walked into Sweet Seasons. “You must be feeling much better today!” I looked down at my nude-colored Burberry lace dress and leopard print flats. I’d spent all day getting glamorous—I even did my hair and make-up, and I was only stopping by the bakery to say “Hello” before treating myself to a movie. “Closing duty? I thought I was off today!” “Well,” she threw a sponge at me, “you thought wrong. And you’re on time for a change! The keys are in the left drawer in my office. Lock up everything when you’re done. Make sure you clean the ovens and thoroughly scrape off all the brew pads.” She can’t be serious… “Can’t you get someone else to do it tonight? You wouldn’t make me clean up in these clothes would you? How about I come home with you and we catch up some more? We could pop popcorn in the fireplace and make candy apples! We could plan more strategies for competing with Autumn Wonder!” “Clean it from top to bottom, Selena. I mean it,” she closed her recipe book and hugged me before walking out the front door. I watched her car pull off and contemplated going back to my hotel. She wasn’t paying me anything so she technically couldn’t “fire” me. Then again, I was finally on her good side and I didn’t want to upset her any more than I already had… I slammed the sponge into a bucket and filled it with warm water. I changed the radio station and drew

the blinds closed. I wrapped every leftover cake and pie, wiped down all the tables, and cleaned out every pastry case. Since the bakery was much bigger now, there was no way I was going to get everything done by myself at a decent hour, let alone make it out in time to see the last movie of the night. I swept half the dining room before getting a brilliant idea: I could ask Ethan to come help me. He did tell me to call him once I wanted to reschedule our “date.” I figured that talking while cleaning could be a good step towards taking things slow and I could make him clean out the ovens—the hardest thing to do. I envisioned his perfectly sculpted face and became giddy. I sat atop the lunch counter and scrolled down to his name. With each ring my heart sped up. One ring. Two rings. Three rings… “I’m not available. Leave me a detailed message,” his voicemail picked up after the fifth ring and I shut my phone. It was worth a try… I swept the rest of the room at a snail’s pace and set the first coat of wood polish on the floor, attempting to keep my shoes as clean as possible. As I was making another bucket of soap water, my phone rang. Ethan. “Hello?” “Hello Selena.” Does he know how sexy his voice is? I held myself against the wall. “Hello Ethan...again.” I could sense him smiling over the line. He must’ve realized I wasn’t going to say anything further because he quickly shattered the silence. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. What’s up?” “Oh right…Well, you mentioned rescheduling our date and…I have closing duty at Sweet Seasons tonight and I was wondering if you were free to come help me out? I know it’s pretty late and it may not seem like a conventional—” “I’ll be over in fifteen,” he hung up. I rushed to the bathroom and looked over myself. My makeup hadn’t faded a bit, my hair was still perfectly placed in 1950s’ era pin-up curls, and I was glad I was finally wearing something other than the standard Sweet Seasons T-shirt and jeans combo. Then again, my outfit wasn’t appropriate for anything other than a dinner date—a dinner and a “let’s go back to my place” date, and I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression; especially after saying I wanted to take things slow. I went back to my mom’s office to search for one of her tacky aprons so I could cover up the most revealing part of my dress, but I heard knocking at the door. I hastily combed through a few more of her cabinets, hoping she’d left a spare one behind, but it was no use. I walked out to the front and braced myself before opening the door. I didn’t say hello when I saw him. I couldn’t. The word was locked in my throat and all I could do was stare at his face and the faded black shirt that

hugged his muscles in all the right places. I tried to mouth “good evening,” but every sense of functionality seemed to have fled my brain all at once. He didn’t say anything to me either, and I could literally feel his gaze wandering over my body. If I say, “You can have me right here, right now” would he think I was classless? “Interesting clothes for cleanup work,” he walked inside, keeping his eyes on me. “I didn’t know I had closing duty tonight,” my voice was apologetic. “I was already wearing this when I stopped by.” “Oh…You had a date earlier?” “No, not at all. My assistant brought me some clothes from New York and I wanted to feel pretty for a change.” He looked relieved. “You look stunning all the time, even when you’re drunk…Where do you want me?” This was a bad idea…a very bad idea… “Selena?” “Um, the kitchen?” I motioned for him to follow me past the rubber double doors. “I guess you can clean out all the stoves and the warming ovens.” “Okay,” he picked up a few sponges and cleanser bottles and walked over to the far end of the room. We both went about our specific tasks, allowing the music from the dining room to be the only sound between us. I wanted to talk to him, to engage in some type of conversation, but I wasn’t sure what to say. For the first time in my life, I was actually second guessing my every move when it came to a guy. I settled for stolen glances of him every so often, turning back around whenever his eyes happened to meet mine. We’d been cleaning in silence for two hours when I felt him standing directly behind me. I turned around. “You’re finished already?” “Yes. What else do you need me to do?” I need you to stop smiling at me… “Polish the utensils but…I was going to suggest we take a break for a while,” I moved out of his reach —to the other side of the huge table that stood in the center of the room. “Sounds fair,” he laughed at my not-so-subtle movement. “I know this is random, but what’s your favorite thing to eat?” “Very random. My favorite thing to eat? Spinach and ricotta gnudi.” He smiled and tilted his head to the side. “No it’s not, but you’re a very convincing person.” “Are you saying I’m a liar?” “No, but I know you’re not telling me the truth,” he smiled even wider. How does he know? “Fine. My favorite food is spaghetti, but crepes and yogurt are my number one favorites for breakfast.” “Interesting,” he rubbed his chin. “Why do you feel like you have to lie about something so simple?”

“Are you sure you’re not a reporter? I could use a good story about myself right about now. Would you like a quote about animal welfare? How not to save pigeons, perhaps?” He laughed. “I’m in business. I can easily tell when someone’s lying to me.” What a load of crap… “Oh. Well, sometimes I like to pretend that I’m someone else—like one of the characters I’ve played in a movie. I tend to take on their personas, including their favorite things to eat and do. So, spinach and ricotta gnudi was what my last character liked to eat every day.” He looked into my eyes and grinned, “Try again sweetheart.” Can he really tell I’m lying? I sighed. “If you must know, when I became a celebrity, I learned that people expected me to be more than what I was. They expected me to be well-read, well-traveled, well-everything, you know? But I wasn’t…So, I came up with a bunch of things that sounded impressive and I stuck to them. I changed everything about myself and people seemed to like me more...” I remembered overhearing my first publicist on the phone, telling her friend that my public interviews were “disgustingly dry.” She said I was “boring,” “lacked the star power to be relevant long enough to make a pea-sized dent in the industry,” and that I was “a dull Southern girl who should go back to her farm and leave the industry to the professionals.” I fired her five minutes later, but I took her advice. Within a few months’ time, I transformed myself into “Selena Ross,” the well-traveled, well-read, and well-dressed woman who could charm any guy she wanted with a simple smile and calculated bite of her lip. Ethan stared at me a while before saying, “Maybe you should go back to being who you are and stop caring what other people think. You’ll always be impressive to someone.” “Umm,” I needed to change the subject and get him to stop giving me that ‘I want you right now’ look. “What’s your favorite food?” “It used to be steak, but I think I’m changing it to cherry bourbon pie. You want to tell me where they hide the recipe for that?” “In your dreams! Pepsi or Coke?” “Coke…McDonald’s or Burger King?” “McDonald’s,” I paused, “but I have an endorsement deal with Burger King so you never heard me say that...” He shook his head. “Starbucks or Autumn Wonder?” “Autumn Wonder, but I won’t be going back in there ever again.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” he moved to my side of the table. “Can I ask you something personal?” Anything… “Sure.” “You mentioned being left at the altar the other night. Are you still distraught by that?” “Ha!” I laughed. “It wasn’t a real wedding! The groom hated my guts. He was in love with someone else.” “A fake wedding?” “It’s a Hollywood thing. We did it for the press,” I shrugged and noticed he was getting closer and

closer to me. “Are you always this inquisitive?” “I’m just naturally intrigued. Where did you go on your last real date?” Any closer and I won’t be able to control myself… “London,” I sighed. “It was with the ‘didn’t-tell-me-he-was-married-guy’…He flew me on his private plane for lunch, took me on a tour of Buckingham Palace, and showed me a bunch of other sites.” “Did you enjoy that?” “Yeah, but only because we had to leave to get away from the paparazzi…I honestly wanted to go to the beach and see the end-of-summer fireworks that day, but that would’ve been impossible…Every time I go to the beach the paparazzi swarm me, which sucks because that’s my favorite place to go and the one place I don’t want their attention. Even when I go to the private beaches, they find a way to take pictures and...Never mind. Where was your last real date?” “Nowhere,” he moved directly in front of me. “She canceled on me the day before.” “I’m sure she had a really good reason…” “I haven’t heard one yet,” he stepped even closer to me, gently pushing me against the table. “But she invited me to play clean-up so I guess I should be grateful.” “You should…” I barely managed. “I am.” There was silence between us. I looked into his eyes, wondering if he could read mine, if he could see that I wanted him to kiss me, that I wanted him to slice the thick tension that was hanging in the air. “Do you really consider this a date?” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes…” More silence. I leaned in to kiss him, but he picked me up and placed me on the table, tracing the outline of my face with his fingers. He ran his hands along my back and pulled me close to him—knocking a tray of utensils onto the floor. I closed my eyes and felt his lips on top of my lips, his tongue softly searching for mine, his legs locking me in place on the table. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back—forcing his tongue to play second fiddle to mine. I could hear myself moaning as he playfully bit my lip, as he slid his hands underneath my dress and undid the first snap of my bra. I slipped my hands underneath his shirt and ran my hands across his washboard abs. He started to deepen the kiss—kissing me harder, faster, not allowing me to set the pace, and I gave in. Completely. He gently pushed my shoulders down, making me lean back onto the table so I was lying flat, and then he climbed on top of me. Shit…This is NOT taking things “slow”…I should tell him to stop…after a few more minutes… He and I were both breathing heavily, gazing into each other ’s eyes, and before I could say anything, he swooped down and forced my lips apart again. I tried to stifle my moans, but I couldn’t help it—I’d never been kissed like this before and I was

enjoying every single second of it; his lips felt way better than I’d imagined. Okay…ten more minutes… I felt around for the button on his jeans and he deftly popped the last two snaps on my bra. I thought I heard footsteps coming from behind the kitchen door, but I figured I was only hearing things so I kept my eyes closed as he continued to kiss me senseless. “I won’t go any further if you don’t want me to,” he whispered as he slowly pushed the straps of my dress down my shoulders. “I…” I couldn’t find the words to say because he’d started kissing me again. “I—” “Pardon the interruption,” a woman loudly cleared her throat, immediately cutting our make-out session short. Ethan abruptly ended our kiss and slowly moved from on top of me. Oh my god…Please don’t be my mom…Please don’t be my mom… I lay staring at the ceiling for several seconds before turning to my side to see who had walked in on us. Joan? “Umm,” I sat up and adjusted my dress. “I’m sorry…I didn’t hear anyone knocking at the front door…” “Of course you didn’t,” she smirked, looking at Ethan and then back at me. “Something extremely important has come up. I need to talk to you for a second.” I quickly moved off the table, avoided looking back at Ethan, and followed her into the cafe room. I sat down in a corner booth and tried to ignore the fact that my lips were still tingling from that mind-blowing kiss. “So,” she clasped her hands together. “Us Weekly called me today to say that they have an audio tape of you and Phillip talking to each other on set. Once they clean it up they’re going to release it to the public.” My stomach churned. “Will the tape make me look better or worse?” “They wouldn’t tell me. They were just giving notice. They were more interested in finding out where you’ve been hiding and trying to get you to release an official statement about the alleged affair. So, in the coming weeks we need to be very careful. We—” Yes, careful. I told Ethan I wanted to take things slow and I almost slept with him on a table! I can’t let him kiss me again—at least not for a while…He’s too damn good at that… Joan paced the floor. “We need to keep things simple, Selena—small statements here or there, making sure we’re keeping just the right amount of public interest—” Good idea. Simple. If he’s really interested in me he won’t pressure me into sex, and I can control the pace of our relationship…Maybe we could read books together, watch movies, or sew a few quilts… I need to stick to simple things with him until I know him better. I need to— “What do you think about the plan?” Joan raised her eyebrow. “Hello? Hello? Selena!” “I heard you Joan. I completely concur.” “You concur?” she narrowed her eyes at me. “You concur what? What did I just say?” I don’t know! I wasn’t listening!

“It doesn’t matter,” I gave her my red-carpet-worthy smile, “because I said I heard you and I’ve concurred. Is there anything else we have to talk about tonight? Actually, could you get me some more Girl Scout cookies this week? I ate all the other ones you bought already—and I kind of snuck in your room this morning and ate yours too…” She let out an exasperated sigh. “You have four degrees and you speak three languages…You graduated from Yale at the top of your class…This can’t be your life…” “What’s that Joan?” She coughed. “Do you still need a ride back to the hotel later? Should I come back in an hour? Two hours?” she darted her eyes towards the kitchen then back at me. “Tomorrow morning, perhaps?” My jaw dropped and I felt my face turning red. I fixed my mouth to say, “You’re fired Joan!” but nothing came out. “We both know you can’t afford to do that right now,” she laughed as if she’d read my mind. “Call me when you’re ready to leave, whenever that is.” She flipped her hair over her shoulders and tapped her phone before walking out. I hate you… I waited a few minutes before going back into the kitchen. I needed to re-commit to my game-plan: I wanted to be head over heels in love the next time I was intimate with someone, and I wanted to be completely myself for a change. Since Ethan claimed he had no idea who ‘Selena Ross’ was to begin with, I figured I could let some of my public façade down—he seemed to see through parts of it anyway. I walked into the kitchen without saying a word to him and began washing a set of mixing bowls.

Chapter 18 Ethan I picked up all the silverware that had fallen to the ground during our kiss and dropped them into a bin. I picked up a washcloth and began polishing the other utensils, wondering why Selena was suddenly acting as if I wasn’t a few feet away from her. She hadn’t said a word to me ever since she returned from talking to her personal assistant, who surprisingly looked more like a supermodel than an aide to the stars. I looked Selena over for what must have been the millionth time and smiled. The cream-colored dress she was wearing had held my attention all night. It was almost the shade of her skin, and if the sparkly pink flowers hadn’t covered certain places, she could’ve easily been mistaken for being nude. “I saw one of your movies on TV yesterday,” I tried to strike up a conversation. “Oh yeah?” she turned around. “Which one?” “I didn’t catch the name of it. You were in bed making out with some guy though…A lot.” “Awww! You sound jealous!” her eyes lit up. “Were you?” A little… “No,” I laughed. “Well, the love scenes are always the most awkward scenes to shoot,” she sighed. “There are like thirty crew people standing around watching so it’s not romantic at all. I always have to dig deep to pretend we’re ‘making love’ because I’ve never experienced that in real life… I’ve only had sex and everyone says there’s a huge difference between the two. I would like to find out for myself…Maybe you can show me what I’ve been missing one day.” “Umm,” I smiled. I had no idea how to respond to that. She turned red and gasped. “My bracelet fell off in the dining room! I’ll be right back!” I offered to help her find the non-existent bracelet—I’d looked her over enough times tonight to know she’d never been wearing one—but she told me to stay put. After she supposedly found it “hiding underneath the coffee counter,” we continued cleaning. We asked each other random questions whenever we took breaks and acted as if our kiss and that comment had never happened. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t impressed by a lunch date in France. I figured that if she wasn’t impressed by that, then she definitely wouldn’t have been impressed by a night with me at the Botanic Gardens. Then again, her ideal date sounded extremely simple. “I think that’s it,” she avoided looking at me and bit her lip. “Thanks so much for helping me tonight, Ethan….Joan is waiting for me outside. She’s going to take me back to my hotel.” She’s so sexy… I wanted to pull her close and kiss her again, to take her on the kitchen floor and prevent her from going home tonight, but I controlled myself. “Anytime,” I grabbed my jacket and looked her over one last time. “Good night Selena.”

I hung my apron in the employee room and washed my hands. I was living proof that the life of a coffee barista was a stressful one: I’d been yelled at by ten different customers, reprimanded by Lola for not smiling enough, and burned on my wrists while making endless cups of coffee. As I boarded my motorcycle outside, I could hear Lola screaming, “Ethan! Ethan!” I wanted to pretend that I didn’t hear her, to rev up my bike and speed away before she could run over, but I decided not to. “What’s up, Lola?” I looked over her home-made “Autumn Wonder is my Life” T-shirt and shook my head. “I’m not one for gossip,” she caught her breath, “but there’s a little rumor going around about certain employees engaging in treacherous behavior…” Okay. I should have driven off... I buckled my helmet. “What are you talking about?” “I drove by Sweet Seasons the other day and I saw our head baker taking his lunch break there! Our head baker! Then, I drove by a couple days ago and saw you there! Ordering pies!” “Um…” “Now, I’ll be the first to admit that their pies were better than ours,” she crossed her arms, “but corporate just shipped us some new recipes and I’ve gotta tell you, these new pies are pretty much the same as theirs. So I’m telling you just like I told Jason, to stay far away from Sweet Seasons! They are now our deepest darkest enemy and we don’t fraternize with the enemy! We are officially at war!” There is no way she passed a drug test… “Alright Lola. I’ll do my best,” I revved up my bike. “Do you double latte swear?” Is it cocaine or heroin? It’s probably both… “Double latte swear,” I smiled and sped off. I stopped at a small gas station and loaded up on cokes, chips, and beef jerky. I had the next week off, and I didn’t want to do anything but lounge on my sofa and watch sports. As soon as I paid for my purchases, my phone vibrated. Selena. “Hello?” “Hey Ethan,” her voice was soft. “What are you up to?” “I’m getting some snacks before heading home for the night. How about you?” “I’m still at work...” Maybe I can come over when she gets off… There was a lingering silence on the line before I coughed. “What time do you get off tonight?” “I don’t,” she sighed. “I know this may sound selfish or maybe even lame, but I have closing duty again and…I was wondering if you could come help me out one more time. It’s okay if you can’t though. I would completely understand…” Hell no. No! Does she really consider cleaning a kitchen a “date”? Does she honestly think she has some type of pull over me where I would rather spend my Thursday night hunched over an oil pan, slipping my head inside an oven, or pouring out vats of grease?

“I’ll be over in fifteen,” I said the words without considering my thoughts, without weighing the pros and cons. I left my motorcycle in the back parking lot of Sweet Seasons and knocked on the front door. She opened the door wearing the Sweet Seasons uniform this time—black collared shirt, dark blue jeans, and pink apron—but she still looked gorgeous. She led me back to the kitchen and instructed for me to clean out the stoves and warming ovens once more. “Is this how you treat all your friends?” I picked up a sponge. “I don’t have…I’m sorry I ever asked for your help Ethan,” she sighed. “This was very selfish of me. I guess they got that part right after all, huh?” She walked out of the kitchen in tears and left me standing there. I’m confused… I threw my sponge into a bucket and walked out into the dining area. Selena was sitting in a booth with her head down. “Hey, it was sarcasm…” I tapped her shoulder. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I don’t mind helping you at all.” “Really?” she wiped her face on her sleeve. “Well, I’m sorry I walked out on you. I’m a lot more sensitive than I normally am…I read another story about myself today and it really bothered me…They reached out to the people who set up my last trailer and they said I was one of the most unreasonable people they’d ever worked for.” “Do you honestly think that’s true?” “No! It’s not my fault I asked for ten bowls of red gummy bears and they only brought me nine! I asked for ten!” Wow… I laughed and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get started so we can get out of here earlier than last time. Okay?” She smiled at me and looked as if she wanted to say something, but she turned away and headed into the kitchen. There was no passionate kiss between us this time. She never let me get within five feet of her, and I gave up trying after my first two attempts failed. Even though we didn’t talk much, I enjoyed simply being around her. It was my second off day and I couldn’t sleep. It was six in the morning and all I could do was think about Selena Ross. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t know too much about her except that she was a celebrity, she should never ever be allowed around a karaoke machine, and she liked to eat crepes and red gummy bears. She also admitted that she liked Autumn Wonder more than Starbucks—maybe that was it. Maybe that was why I was so fascinated. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to sleep but my phone rang. Barry. “Yes?” I pretended to be half-sleep. “Do you know it’s six o’ clock in the morning here? Has

headquarters burned down or something?” “Get over yourself. We’ve figured out all the ingredients to every single pie except the cherry bourbon one. We’ve had seven different chef teams try to crack it and they’ve come up with nada. Our version still tastes good, but it’s not great. If we’re going to crush Sweet Seasons by the end of the year and turn up the heat on Starbucks, we need to figure it out ASAP. Could you send us three more?” “Sure. And did you guys recreate that heritage coffee I sent? I think we should use that for the Valentine’s Day season.” “Yeah, that was pretty easy. The board thinks we should roll it out in February too. By the way, is there a reason why I paid for fifty thousand tons of sand yesterday? Is there a reason why you used my personal account?” I laughed. “Yeah, it was my way of saying thanks for volunteering me for this ridiculous assignment. I really appreciate it…Oh, and the purchase is nonrefundable, just in case you’re wondering.” “I see. Have you gone on any more dates this week? How about the lady that licked your toes over dinner? Could you bring her with you when you come back? I’d love to introduce her to the rest of the club.” “Bye Barry,” I hung up. I scrolled down to Selena’s name in my phone and contemplated calling her. I knew it was early and she might be sleeping, but I wanted to hear her voice. By my checklist standards, Selena should have been excluded from consideration a long time ago: she had emotional baggage, she’d rejected me twice before, and she’d made our first two “dates” cleaning up a kitchen. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to leave her alone. I usually waited two to three days before calling a woman after a date, but I couldn’t do that this time. She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” “Hey Selena…” Why am I so nervous? “Hello Ethan.” “Sorry to call so early…Did I awake you?” “Not at all, I’ve been up all morning,” she sounded cheery. “I’m making some signs for Sweet Seasons.” “Why does it need new signs? “Not new signs, they’re demonstration signs…It’s lost a lot of money recently so we’re going to have a fall sale and a rally…Starbucks weakened its’ coffee business a little when it came four years ago, but ever since Autumn Wonder moved in with its cheaper bakery and extremely similar menu, Sweet Seasons has lost a lot more customers…” And I hope they continue to lose customers. Autumn Wonder needs to be number one in this town. “Are you upset about that at all?” “Yeah. It’ll be a really sad day if it has to close—especially for all the cherry bourbon pie lovers,” she sighed. “The customers can’t seem to get enough of it.” “Hmmm. Since you’re temporarily working there, did they give you the recipe for that pie? Do you know the exact ingredients?”

“It’s my recipe and I’ll never tell,” she jokingly whispered. “What? How is it your recipe if you’re not from Fayetteville?” My intern’s report specifically says Texas… “That’s another one of those things I changed about myself when I became a celebrity,” she paused. “I was born and raised here. Sweet Seasons is my mother ’s shop.” SHIT! “It’s your mother’s shop?” I almost choked. “Yeah. You didn’t see our family photo in the kitchen, or notice the woman who takes your lunch order sometimes? Everyone says we look just alike. She practically raised me in there. Sweet Seasons is like her second daughter…What are you doing?” Wishing you hadn’t just told me that… “Umm…I’m trying to rest my back from cleaning out all the ovens by myself. I think you gave me the hardest job on purpose.” She giggled. “I’m sorry.” “You don’t sound sorry.” “I am…If you’re not in too much pain later do you want to come over and watch a movie with me? Or since you claim you don’t really watch movies we could—” “I’d love to.” I needed to tell her that I was the CEO of Autumn Wonder. Tonight. I needed to admit it and tell her it was just business, nothing personal—that I had no idea she was connected to that bakery when we first met, that my business plan was already in place months earlier, and that I wanted to continue dating, or whatever the hell we were doing. I picked up a bottle of red wine from the local market and a pan of hot spaghetti from Noodles Italian Kitchen. I prepped several speeches in my head as I walked through the hotel lobby. I told myself that before I stepped inside her room I would tell her the truth. Lay it all out on the floor. Let the chips fall where they may. I knocked on her suite and within seconds she opened the door wearing a tight T-shirt that exposed her stomach and tiny teal shorts that showed off her legs. I’ll tell her tomorrow… “Good evening,” she blushed. “Good evening Selena.” We stood looking at one another for what felt like forever. It took me controlling every muscle in my body to not pick her up and carry her into the suite’s bedroom for the rest of the night. “I’m sorry,” she finally stepped back and let me inside. “Come on in.” There were signs everywhere: “Down with Autumn Wonder,” “Why have Autumn Wonder when you can have all the Sweet Seasons?” “Keep Sweet Seasons Alive and Baking!”

Oh god… “You made all these yourself?” I picked up a ‘Fuck Autumn Wonder ’ sign that was etched in pink glitter. “Yeah! Aren’t they pretty? I’ve been working on them all day! Excuse me for a second, I’ll be right back.” I looked over the set of signs by the window and wondered why one of them featured a picture of a bomb blowing up the expansion store. I picked up a copy of the Fayetteville Observer and cringed as I read the highlighted article: New Mega Coffee Shop Threatens Neighborhood Staple Fayetteville’s last family-owned sweet shop, Sweet Seasons, is already feeling the heat from three month old mega shop Autumn Wonder. Already an anomaly, Sweet Seasons has managed to survive against the likes of Starbucks due its addictive bakery offerings and locally-influenced coffee blends. However, now that Autumn Wonder has moved in with the same exact offerings at a much cheaper price, you can bet that times will be a lot harder for the little shop that’s a mere two miles away from its newest competitor. Sweet Seasons originally opened in 1985 as a simple coffee shop, but once the owner, affectionately known to the community as “Kathleen Kelly,” brought one of her homemade pies to work for a Christmas celebration, an employee suggested that she incorporate it onto the menu. Months later, there were twenty signature pies on the menu, and years later—twenty seven years later to be exact, that same employee, Lance Michaels still offers his suggestions for Sweet Seasons. “I hate Autumn Wonder and Starbucks!” he says. “They’re the reason why coffee isn’t sacred anymore! All they do is muscle the little guys out and their coffee tastes like shit!” [sic] I couldn’t bear to finish reading the rest of it. I slid the paper underneath a stack of signs and sighed. I heard Selena come back into the room and turned around to see that she’d changed into a set of pink long-sleeved flannel pajamas. What the… “I think I preferred your first outfit.” Her face turned bright red. “Umm…I know you said you’re not really into films, but did you ever have a favorite movie?” “The Godfather. Once you’ve seen that, you don’t need to see any other ones.” “Boo! I’m so not watching that! Ever!” So she doesn’t believe in compromise… I laughed. “I’m a sports and games type of guy.” “I have games. What type?” “Any type really. Blackjack, Poker, or even the kid ones like Connect Four, Uno—” “I have Uno,” she reached into a closet and pulled out a box of cards. “Well, I just bought Two Weeks’ Notice on DVD too, but I guess you can pick what we do tonight…” “What type of movie is Two Weeks’ Notice?”

“A romantic comedy.” “Okay,” I refused to watch that crap. “Uno.” “Why? You don’t like romantic comedies?” No, I don’t like terrible movies… “I just think all romantic comedies are the same, so there’s no need to watch. You can tell what’s going to happen just by looking at the cover.” She rolled her eyes. She walked over to her TV and picked up a DVD. “What happens in this one?” she held Maid in Manhattan in front of my face and pouted. She’s adorable… “Hmmm…I guess the girl is a maid in a hotel and the guy has a powerful job, right? They meet somehow but he doesn’t know she’s a maid, and they fall in love…He probably finds out she’s a maid at some point, she gets upset, and they break up. Then he probably spends a few weeks thinking about where she is and they get back together. Oh, and there’s probably a kiss in the rain somewhere. There’s always a kiss in the rain.” “Ugh! Fine. You can deal the Uno cards after we eat.” I’d forgotten about the spaghetti and wine already. The plastic bags were still dangling off my wrist. I placed them on the counter, and was about to uncork the wine but she shooed me away. “I’ll do it,” she grabbed the corkscrew. “I don’t want you complaining about doing all the work again. What did you do all day?” Think about you… “I went for a long ride on my bike. I drove sixty or so miles out.” “You have a motorcycle?” she shuddered. “I’ve always been scared of those things.” “Well, if you ever allow me to take you on a real date, I can show you they’re not scary at all.” “I’ll think about it,” she set a plate and a glass of wine in front of me. “Pie for dessert?” I nodded. And while we’re on the subject of “pie,” I’m the CEO of the company that’s trying to figure out what’s in your cherry bourbon one and put your mom’s bakery out of business by the end of the year… She sat down across from me and we ate in silence, occasionally looking up and smiling at one another. I was now convinced that even though she was a good actress on TV, she couldn’t control her real-life blushing at all. “Okay. Time to play,” Selena sat on the floor, right in front the couch. “And you better not cheat. I’m like the master of Uno so I’ll know if you do.” “It’s possible for someone to cheat at Uno?” I sat next to her. She narrowed her eyes at me and I couldn’t help but laugh. I dealt seven cards each and made two separate “draw” piles. “Wait. Before we start, I think we should play Confession Uno!” she beamed. I really hope that’s similar to Strip-Uno… “What on earth is Confession Uno, Selena?” “It’s kind of like truth or dare, minus the dare, with the colors of Uno cards.”

“What? I’m lost…” She sighed. “You pick a color before the game starts. Let’s say red for example. Anytime I put down a red card, you get to ask me a question and I have to answer it. The same rule applies to me with whatever color I pick for you.” “It sounds really confusing…” “It’s fun! I’ll show you. I pick yellow. What color do you want?” “Green.” “Great,” she put down a red card. I put down a “draw four” and made green my color. She glared at me, pulled her cards, and then put down a green seven. “This means I get to ask you something right?” I tried not to laugh at her pouty face. “I could’ve sworn you just said this game was confusing…” “I’m a fast learner,” I smiled. “Tell me, why did you change into those flannel pajamas?” She gasped. “What! That’s not a real question!” “It sounds like a real question to me. Do I need to better enunciate? Why. Did. You. Change. Into. Those. Flannel. Pajamas?” She put down her cards and crossed her arms. “I’m not answering that!” “Are you forfeiting at your own game, Miss Ross? Is that any way to play fair? I was really starting to enjoy this.” “Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I put them on so I would be less sexually appealing.” “Well,” I put down a yellow seven, “you completely failed at that. Your turn.” “Um…Have you ever been in love?” How cute… “No,” I noticed a look of disappointment etch across her face. “Have you?” She shrugged. “I thought I was...Twice.” “Hmmm,” I put down another “draw four” and made the color green again. “You’re cheating, Ethan!” “Because I’m winning?” She frowned and drew cards. I took my time thinking of a good question. “If you could have anything in the world right now what would it be?” She didn’t answer right away. She stared off into space and looked as if she were about to cry. “I would want a friend…I haven’t had one of those in years.” Damn… We played in silence for a few minutes—drawing cards, avoiding eye contact, putting down every color except green and yellow. I finally put down a yellow nine and waited for her next question. She tapped her lip. “If I had told you to stop pursuing me a couple days ago, would you have really

stopped?” “Probably not,” I kissed her cheek. “Uno.” “You got lucky! I never lose at Uno,” she sighed. “Let’s see…Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good kisser? Like, a really good kisser?” “Wouldn’t that be something you would have to tell me?” “I would if our first kiss was memorable.” I put my card down. “It wasn’t memorable?” “Nope. Not at all,” she started to get up but I pulled her back down to the floor. I held her face in my hands and looked deep into her eyes—waiting for her to give me a look of hesitation, an expression of doubt, but I got the complete opposite. “So you haven’t thought about our first kiss at all over the past couple days?” “Maybe you have, but I forgot about it as soon as it was over,” she sighed. Liar. I pressed my lips against hers, and gently slipped my tongue into her mouth, never giving her the chance to control the tempo. I ran my fingers through her silky black hair, noticing that she was softly murmuring and her breaths were becoming shorter and shorter. I felt her arms draping around my neck and pulled her into my lap. I reached for the white zipper on the front of her pajamas—pulling it down far enough to where I could see her red lace bra, and felt one of her hands fiddling with the button on my pants. “Is this still considered slow?” she panted. “This is technically our third date, right?” I can’t do this. Not now… I promised I wouldn’t hurt her… I shook my head and zipped her pajamas back up. “I don’t think we should rush things.” “You’re right,” she caught her breath. “Well, um…I really enjoyed dinner and Uno with you tonight.” I stood up. “Me too. Do you need help cleaning up?” “No, I think I’ll be okay. Thank you.” I grabbed my jacket and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night Selena.” “Good night Ethan.” I stood at the elevator, contemplating whether I should turn back around and knock on her door, whether I should try to stay the night. But before I could make up my mind, the doors glided open. I took my time driving home, looking away from Sweet Seasons and Autumn Wonder as I passed them. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put two and two together earlier. I should’ve asked if she was related to her Sweet Seasons lookalike. I should’ve known that was her mom who served me every afternoon, and I should’ve had my intern research her background further. I tossed my keys on the floor and collapsed onto my bed. I didn’t want to think about anything, but images of Selena continued to loop through my brain. She and I weren’t even serious. We were just starting to get to know each other, and although I wanted to tell her about my real occupation, something told me not to—not yet anyway. I didn’t know if I was the only guy she was currently “dating,” and I was still undercover. I still had

things to do for my board in Boston. I reached for my iPod and hoped music would be all I needed to go to sleep. I scrolled down to Coldplay and heard my phone ring. “Hello?” I answered without looking at the screen. “You busy?” Selena? “I’m not,” I ripped the ear-buds from my ears. “What’s up? Is something wrong?” “No, I just couldn’t sleep. I tried listening to my iPod but it’s not helping.” Where is my checklist? There has to be something on there about crazy coincidences… “Well, I hope you weren’t singing along with it. I’m sure that wouldn’t help you or your neighbors tonight.” “Oh shut up! I’m not that bad!” she laughed. “Who is your favorite artist?”

Chapter 19 Selena I dropped my black chip into the board and jumped up. “You don’t have to bother putting your chip in now! I have you beat two ways! I beat you! I beat you! I finally beat you!” I danced around my living room, holding up the “L” with my fingers, teasing Ethan about my inevitable victory. I knew I was acting like a toddler who’d just gone to the potty for the first time, but I didn’t care. I was sick of him beating me at every game and gloating about it right after. “As much as I’m enjoying this private dance,” Ethan smirked and dropped a red chip into the board, “Connect Four, sweetheart.” “What!” I plopped down in front of the board and looked where I thought I had him beat ten seconds ago. I had two potential lines forming, but I clearly hadn’t noticed where his red diagonal was taking shape. “You must have cheated!” “Whatever you say. What game do you want me to beat you at next? I’m willing to play blindfolded at this point.” “You’re always so modest when you win,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to ask me a question?” “Oh right, Confession Connect Four,” he laughed. “Why haven’t you let me take you out on a real date yet? Are you scared it won’t go well or something?” I sighed. I knew he was getting tired of coming over and playing board games every night. He’d offered to take me out to dinner almost every day, but I turned him down each time. “I’m trying to do things differently,” I looked at the Connect Four board. “Every time I’ve dated someone and we went out all the time, we didn’t really talk much…It was like all the over the top dates and expensive gestures were the only communication and I didn’t know them as well as I thought I did when it was over. I want to keep things simple…” He probably won’t call me again after tonight...It was fun while it lasted… “Hmmm,” he smiled. “Okay. I think I better understand you now.” “Really?” “Yes,” he started putting the chips back into the box. “I really do.” “Can I ask you something personal, Ethan?” “Anything,” his eyes met mine. “Well, you told me you’ve never been in love before so…Why did you propose to your last girlfriend if you weren’t in love with her? Why would you do that?” That question had plagued me ever since we played Confession Uno. I didn’t understand why any man would propose to someone he didn’t love—minus the men in staged Hollywood relationships of course. “I thought we were compatible and that that would be enough for the long haul,” he said it as if he were handling a business transaction—cool, calm, detached. “But, apparently that’s not enough for

marriage.” “I see. So do you still have feelings for her? Wait, that’s none of my business. Thank you for coming over tonight. I had a lot of fun and—” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently. “No, Selena. I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Anything else you want to ask me? We don’t have to play confession games for you to ask me questions.” “No…Not right now, I—” “I’m glad it didn’t work out,” he kissed me again. “I might’ve never found out what Confession Uno was.” I wriggled out of his embrace and put the Connect Four box away. When I came back into the room, he was putting on his jacket. “You’re leaving?” “Yeah. I have to get up early,” he hugged me. “And you do too, right?” “Oh yeah…I forgot.” My mom had cut all of her waitresses’ hours in half—even the waitresses who had worked there since the shop first opened: Autumn Wonder had begun selling their pies at half the price of hers and the customers were talking. Since I was “free labor,” she needed me to open the store all week. “You can’t stay one more hour?” I frowned. “Just one?” “Okay, just one…” he let me go and sat on the couch. I sat next to him and turned on the TV. As luck would have it, the TV was set on an after-hours celebrity show and my picture was onscreen. “And in Hollywood Harlot news,” the red-haired host paused and the audience laughed. “Selena Ross was recently dropped from Macy’s holiday campaign for being a whore! She was also replaced in the highly anticipated Sweet Tennessee film. Why, you ask? The director was already involved in one affair and didn’t want to deal with another one!” The audience laughed again and I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I mean seriously, with all the money she has why wouldn’t she just pay someone to sleep with her in private if she was that desperate and lonely? Did she really have to go after a married man and flaunt it in public?” A picture of Phillip and I hugging at a private park appeared onscreen. “Oh and get this, audience! I read somewhere that her life-long dream is to win every award on the planet, so not to worry Selena—if you happen to be watching tonight, you definitely have my vote for ‘Ho of the Year’!” The camera panned to the audience members who were now clapping and laughing hysterically. A new picture of me appeared onscreen. It was a black and white portfolio shot and the word “SLUT” was scrawled across it in ugly red handwriting. The host went on, “We’ve had some pretty interesting nicknames for Selena Ross over the past few weeks, but my favorite one is—” Ethan unplugged the TV. I didn’t even realize he’d gotten up. I didn’t try to hide my tears. I didn’t care if he saw me. I couldn’t hold my pain inside anymore.

I’d received a few negative reviews for my work before—all of which I ignored and chalked up to “miserable people who just wanted to put me down,” but hearing people talk so harshly about my personal life—about an “affair” that wasn’t even true, was something I’d never experienced. I was used to manipulating the press with positive stories, stories that showed me in a good light, but this scandal stuff was something I couldn’t control, something that grew uglier and uglier every day. I honestly thought I would be able to brush it off eventually, to act like people’s opinions didn’t hurt, but I couldn’t. Each mean word cut deeply, each hateful sentence seared me to the core. I felt Ethan’s arms folding around me as he pulled a blanket over us. I heard him say that things were going to be alright, that I shouldn’t let negative people affect me, and that he would stay with me until I was okay. I felt him brushing away my tears with the sleeves of his jacket, squeezing my hand to remind me that he was there. I tried to stop myself from crying, but my chest kept heaving and the sobs kept coming. In that moment, I finally realized that I could’ve prevented this scandal from ever happening: I should have known better. I should’ve left Phillip alone until his “divorce” was finalized and I should have picked up on all the red flags he’d thrown—all those private dinners and private dates weren’t for my sake. They were for his. When I was finally all cried out, I looked at the clock on the wall and realized it was two in the morning. “I’ll be okay Ethan,” I untangled myself from his embrace and stood up. “I’m sorry I kept you for over an hour…You can go home now.” He took off his jacket and bent over to take off his shoes. He motioned for me sit in his lap and wrapped his arms around me again. “I’ll stay until you’re really better,” he kissed my cheek. “Don’t think about anything, just try to sleep.” “Okay…But only after you ask me a question.” He shook his head and laughed softly. “Are you dating anyone else right now?” “No…Are you?” “No.” “Okay,” I rested my head against his chest and tried to think of a question for him, but everything went black. My mom walked around my suite, fiddling with my newest set of flower bouquets, touching each and every petal. “So he sends you flowers every day?” she plucked a rose from its stem. “Yeah…” I smiled. “Ten bouquets a day.” “Wow. I actually think he’d be really good for you.” “Because he sends me flowers?” “No,” she rolled the bloom around in her hand, “because he’s a normal guy and he’s been trying his

hardest to take you out. None of those celebrity guys you told me about did half of what he’s done just to go out with you, and you definitely need a break from those types…He’s also cute and charming. I like him.” I like him too… “I just wish he was famous…” I sighed. My mom turned around and glared at me with her cold gray eyes, the same eyes I’d seen when I first arrived in Fayetteville. I didn’t like those eyes… “What did I say?” I practically withered under her glare. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Selena, a good guy is a good guy. Famous or not. Ethan may not be a billionaire, but he’s obviously done quite well for himself. Miss Thompson came into Sweet Seasons this morning talking about how his purchases alone will cover her shop’s expenses for the next six months.” “What?” “She said none of these flowers can be grown locally in the fall. She has to call her distributor in Florida and get them flown here. Do you know how much that costs?” “Two hundred dollars a bouquet,” I guessed, because that’s how much I usually spent when I bought them myself. “Ha! Two hundred dollars per bloom, and those are for the cheapest ones. The rare roses you have cost three times that much. Isn’t that crazy? He must really like you...” My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe he was spending that type of money. I couldn’t believe he had that type of money. Then again, that explained the hundred thousand dollar check and he’d mentioned growing up in a wealthy family before. Maybe he had a high position in his family’s business. Or maybe— “You haven’t slept with him have you?” my mother cut through my thoughts. “What! You can’t ask me that!” “Why not? A mother has a right to know these types of things. Have you?” “No mom,” I sighed. “I have not slept with him.” Yet… “Good! They tend to like you more when you make ‘em wait,” she smiled. “Have you given any thought to the contest I entered you in the weekend before your birthday?” I’d almost forgotten about that. Even though my birthday wasn’t for another two weeks she’d paid for me to be in the state fair’s cake baking contest—the ultimate stage for baked goods. I appreciated her enthusiasm, but my specialty was pie, not cake. “Um, I’m not so sure about that…I don’t really make cakes and I’m used to having three to six months to prepare for contests, not weeks.” “Excuses! You better do it. Me and the rest of the family will be staying in the Marriott all weekend to judge the quilting so we probably won’t be able to help you get the cakes there. You should ask your boyfriend to go with you. You can even use my car.” “He’s not my boyfriend mom! And I don’t think he would want to go to a state fair. He’d probably think it was lame. Plus, Joan said she had some news about a certain Hollywood guy who asked for my number yesterday—she said it’s someone I’ve worked with before! I think it’s Ryan Gosling! Wouldn’t we be cute together?”

She whipped her head around and gave me that criminal look again. “Really Selena?” “Okay, okay…I’ll stop it…” I gave her a hug before she left and called Ethan. “Hey Selena,” he sounded sleepy. “How are you today?” “I’m okay. I hope I’m not disturbing you or anything but I was wondering if you could help me with something in a few weeks.” “It doesn’t involve watching a romantic comedy does it?” he teased. “No…I’m making a bunch of cakes for the state fair contest in Little Rock. It’s three hours away and I need some help driving there and back…Would you go with me?” “Absolutely, but you have to do something for me first.” “What is it?” “Let me take you out on a real date. Tonight. Can you please let me do that?” My heart jumped out of my chest and danced around the room. “Um, yeah sure.” “What time should I pick you up from your hotel?” “Six thirty?” “Okay. I’ll see you then. Oh, and wear jeans,” he hung up. I immediately hopped in the shower. I spent hours debating on what I should wear before picking out my favorite skinny jeans and orange halter top. I pulled my hair into a sleek curly bun and put on light make-up. I headed down to the lobby ten minutes early—my first time being on time for anything, and saw Ethan standing near the front desk in his brown leather jacket. “You look beautiful Selena,” his eyes lit up. “Are you ready?” I nodded and he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the hotel and towards the back of the parking lot. He walked me over to a shiny black motorcycle and handed me a pink helmet. He fastened his on, and looked like he was waiting for me to do the same. I stepped back. “Where are you taking me?” “It’s a surprise.” I looked at the helmet and shook my head. “I told you I was terrified of motorcycles…And I’m scared of surprises too... Can you tell me where we’re going and let me meet you there? I can ask Joan to take me.” “Are you normally this frustrating?” he smiled. “If I say yes, will you let me meet you there?” “No,” he laughed. “I think that would take the fun out of the surprise location.” He spent fifteen minutes telling me about the different parts of the motorcycle—the spokes, the suspension, the dual engine—and while I was bending down to look at the steel spikes underneath the motorcycle’s body, he promised he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. “It’s not you,” I took another step back. “My cousin got hurt really badly on one of these before…” I shuddered at the thought of Kate falling off a motorcycle and severely twisting her leg when she was twelve years old. She shattered her knee and had to wear a leg brace for over a year.

“I promise you won’t get hurt,” he reached for my hand and patted the motorcycle seat. I stepped forward, but then I stepped back and shook my head again. I wanted to trust him, but fear overrode all my thoughts. I tossed the pink helmet back to him and whispered that I was sorry, that I was honestly too scared to even try. “You know what? I’m sorry,” he got off the bike and removed his helmet. He placed the helmets in the cargo hold and walked over to me. “I do remember you saying that you were scared of motorcycles. I guess I didn’t understand how scared you were…” He took my hand and kissed it. He led me across the parking lot, to the other side of the hotel, where a bright red Ferrari convertible was sitting all alone. “I bought it earlier today just in case this happened,” he looked into my eyes as he opened the passenger door. “Is this better?” I pinched him and slipped into the car. The Ferrari flew down the back roads of the city. The last leaves of autumn had begun to fall, and the lush trees that dotted the highway stood familiarly stoic. Sprawling green lawns and lakes were up ahead, and despite the early morning’s gray clouds and rain, the sky was bright blue. I kept asking Ethan where we were going but he would only smile. I emphasized that I really hated surprises, that if he gave me a hint I would be much more relaxed, yet he simply ignored my requests and laughed. After two hours of driving, the car came to a stop and I looked outside. When did this get here? Orange-leaved trees stood on opposite ends of a dark black pathway that was covered in red and yellow rose petals. My mom and I had gone on a long drive past this part of town a week ago and the pathway and petals weren’t there then. “This looks pretty simple, right?” he helped me out of the car. We walked hand in hand down the black and petaled path, past the orange leaved trees, past a picnic blanket and basket that was set for two. “Isn’t that picnic for us?” I looked at him. “Don’t you think we should eat our dinner first?” “You’re used to being in control all the time aren’t you?” he smirked. YES! “No…” We continued to walk down the path until we reached a lake, where a small wooden dinghy was waiting in the water. “Ladies first,” he reached for my hand and held the little boat steady with his foot. He released the boat from its post and sat down across from me, smiling as he rowed the oars back and forth. “I rowed for my college team,” I sighed. “I could’ve helped, you know? We could’ve gotten to

wherever we’re going ten times faster.” “Selena, you did not row in college.” So he can see through me… We stopped at another clearing, and after he tied the dinghy to a post, he took a black scarf from his back pocket. “I need you to put this on,” he handed it to me. “Why?” “So you are this frustrating,” he laughed and tied the scarf around my eyes. “Can you see anything?” “No…” “Good,” he clasped my hand. “I’m glad you finally let me take you out today.” “Is this the last time I’ll be seen alive?” “Shhh,” he kissed my cheek. We walked in silence for a long time. Occasionally he would tell me to watch my step or to stop, but he didn’t initiate any further conversation. I tried to guess my surroundings by flailing my arms about from time to time, but after losing my balance and falling forward a couple times, I gave up trying to figure it out. The smell was familiar—newly cut grass, wet leaves, and a freshwater lake—but there were too many parts of Arkansas that fit that description. “Stop. We’re here,” he let my hand go and slowly moved the blindfold away from my eyes. I blinked over and over to make sure that what I was looking at was real. In front of me was a massive white-sanded beach, but we didn’t have white-sanded beaches in Arkansas—at least I’d never seen one. Especially one like this: The sand went on for miles and miles. There were tons of tropical palm trees—definitely not indigenous, an array of bright blue beach chairs near the “shoreline,” and a huge fire pit that was surrounded by large gray stones. There was a white hammock swaying between two of the larger palm trees, and my name was etched in cursive on massive umbrellas that stood in the distance. Where did the palm trees come from? We’re only a couple hours away from Fayetteville…We couldn’t have gotten to Florida that fast… And why is the sand white? This doesn’t make any sense…unless… Did he have this made? Like, did he PAY to have this done? “Yes,” he said as if he’d heard my thoughts. “You mentioned your favorite place to be was the beach so I thought I’d bring you one since you can’t go out of town for a while…You won’t have to worry about any paparazzi while we’re here either.” I can’t believe I’m not dreaming…This is incredible…What exactly does he do for a living again? He wrapped his arms around my waist and looked into my eyes. “Say something.” I was speechless. I wasn’t sure what to say. No one had ever done anything like this for me before. “Is something wrong?” he pressed. “Are you okay?” I’m more than okay… “That picnic basket that was way back there really wasn’t for us?” “No, it was a momentary distraction. Ours is over there,” he pointed to a large wicker basket that was

sitting on a blanket near the “shore.” I looked at the beach, at the basket, then back at him. Before I could say anything else, he bent down and kissed me, bringing me down to the sand with him. “You don’t like it?” he whispered. “I love it…I just wasn’t expecting—” He kissed me again—making my entire body go numb, and laughed when I attempted to pull off his shirt. He gently pinned my arms to the sand and smiled. “Slow, remember?” I absolutely regret saying that now… I followed him over to the picnic basket and wondered how he’d managed to get the normally still lake water to appear so “ocean-like”: It was lapping up over the sand every few seconds, forming large scale waves that crashed over each other again and again. “I had this made especially for you,” he handed me a plate of weird green balls that were swimming in a pukish-yellow sauce. “Eeeww!” the look of it almost made me vomit. “What the hell is this? It looks disgusting!” “Spinach and ricotta gnudi,” he smirked. “Your favorite.” “Very funny… Aren’t you glad I was so easy going today?” “Ha! You’re not easy-going at all Selena,” he laughed. “But I think I like you anyway.” I blushed and took a grape off his plate. “I’m not sure if I like you or not yet…How far does this sand stretch out?” “Ten miles total, five miles both ways.” Wow… “You didn’t spend your life’s savings on this project did you? Actually, don’t answer that. I have something for you,” I reached into my jeans and handed him the hundred thousand dollar check. “You might need this someday.” He laughed heartily and pushed it back towards me. “I can afford it. Trust me. It was the best purchase I’ve made all year…Would you like to go for a walk before the sun sets?” I didn’t answer him, but the next thing I knew, he was slipping my shoes off and pulling me to my feet. “I want to know everything there is to know about you, Selena—the real Selena Ross, not the Hollywood one,” he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me down the sand. I lay next to Ethan in the hammock and sighed. “Don’t stop,” he caressed my face. “I’m listening.” “My dad used to take me to the Gulf Shore beaches in Alabama every summer,” I looked at him. “Like clockwork, every last weekend of July, he would treat me and my mom to a trip to the beach and it would always be amazing…That’s what I remember most about him. He stayed true to his word and he never let me down.” “He went to all your recitals and shows?”

“Every last one,” I smiled. “When Sweet Seasons started to get profitable for my mom, I was in middle school. My mom was still learning how to run a business and she didn’t have the staff that she has now, so she had to work a whole lot of hours…My dad was the one taking me dress shopping for pageants and going with me to auditions. We got to bond a lot that way.” “How did he die?” “He had a heart attack when I was fifteen. I don’t think it hit me until I was nineteen though.” “I’m sorry.” “I really hate that he never got to see me make it, you know? He always told me that if I did, I should never change…I clearly did the exact opposite.” “I’m sure he’s still very proud of you, Selena.” “You think so?” I turned on my side. “I do. He probably thinks that fake pregnancy was a genius idea.” “It was genius! Do you know how much time went into planning that? I had to watch hours and hours of videos to research how pregnant women walked, how they sat, everything! I played the hell out of that part! I wish I could’ve let the public in on it; I would’ve definitely gotten an Oscar!” Ethan shook his head and laughed. “Do you think that makes me a horrible person though? That I was willing to do all that just to get my name in the papers? What about the fake wedding and all those lies I told?” “You’re not a bad person at all Selena…You didn’t have your friends or family to talk to, so you used the only thing you did have and you got a bit carried away.” He’s not judging me? “Well, I’m trying to change that now. Anyway, I feel like I’ve been talking nonstop, Ethan. It’s your turn!” “What do you want to know?” “Everything…” He told me he’d spent most of his life in Boston and was in town to do some research for his company—an expanding beverage venture. He said he loved being outdoors and had a zest for international traveling. He even told me about the closest he came to having his heart broken, when a woman named Darcy dumped him out of the blue, after a year of serious dating. We cuddled underneath a fluffy yellow blanket and continued to watch the sun set, tickling each other whenever things became too quiet. When I noticed that the fire pit was dying and the sky was fading to black, I tapped his shoulder. “It’s getting late. Shouldn’t we head back now?” “Not unless you want to miss the best part.” “Huh? What are you talking about?” “You’ll see.” “I don’t see anything! You’re not trying to seduce me out here are you?” I could sense him smiling. “No, Selena. I’m not trying to do that…” “Well, let’s go. I can watch a pitch dark sky from the windows of my hotel room. I don’t need to—” There was a sudden shrieking sound and a pop from high above. I looked up and saw a bright white

sparkler dancing across the sky. Fireworks… I lay back in his arms and watched in awe as hundreds of colorful blossoms flashed across the dark night: There were huge heart shaped ones, ones that resembled dancing spiders, ones that crackled softly and fell in sheets of glittering rain, and several ones that spelled out my name in vibrant glitzy colors. As another array of purple streamers strutted across the sky, I sat up and faced him. “Thank you so much. This was the best date I’ve ever had. Words can’t even describe…” “I’m glad you liked it.” “I’m not sure if I mentioned this to you today or not, but there was an article about me in The New York Post this morning…Joan thought I didn’t see it but I did. They’re still talking about the affair and making me out to be the aggressor. They think that—” “Shhh,” he pulled me back into his arms. “I couldn’t care less what anyone else thinks about you.”

Chapter 20 Ethan This was unfamiliar territory. This was dangerous. I was no longer in control and I didn’t like it. At all. All my thoughts were about Selena and my checklist didn’t have a viable explanation for that. I’d accounted for the psycho dates who thought about me all the time—the ones who left crazy voicemails and called me at all hours of the night just to say “Hello,” but I never considered what it would mean if I thought about someone all the time. Besides, Selena was the exact opposite of almost every point on my checklist. Sure, she was sexually attractive and completely adorable, but she was also quite frustrating. She was the most confrontational woman I’d ever met, she pouted when she didn’t get her way, and she was the one setting the pace of our relationship, not me. Worst of all, she made me watch romantic comedies—lots of them. I didn’t understand why I needed to watch Matt Sterling and Matthew McConaughey take their shirts off eighty different ways, why every couple had to share a dramatic kiss in the rain, or why the characters professed their love for one another after a mere two weeks. Each and every one of those movies was terrible, but I was willing to do anything to spend time with Selena. She and I met for dinner every evening. We talked on the phone for hours and hours every night, and we spent every free moment relaxing at the hidden beach. I looked forward to the sound of her laughter, the sight of her smile. I anticipated each second we spent together and fell asleep dreaming about our next encounter. I didn’t even realize how much time had passed by. “Are you there Ethan?” Selena waved her hand in front of my face. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?” “You have to watch this part! It’s crucial to the film!” I looked at the romance movie we were watching, The Notebook, and saw that for the umpteenth time, the characters were about to kiss. In the rain. “Do you truly enjoy watching this stuff or are you doing this to torture me?” I sighed. “I love it! The kiss in the rain is what makes the movie romantic! It’s what makes their love official and shows that it’s meant to be! Without the rain, the promises they made to each other don’t mean anything!” She can’t be serious… “So, let me get this straight. You can make me watch twenty romantic comedies, but you can’t watch The Godfather once?” “Exactly.” “And why is that?” “Because that’s a guy movie.”

“Okay? Romantic comedies are for women. What’s your point?” “I don’t need one,” she made her ‘how dare you ask me this’ face. “You always win at board games so I always get to choose what movie we watch. I think that’s quite fair. Plus, it’s my suite and my TV. Now shut up so we can watch the kiss in the rain!” Of course… “You’re impossible,” I kissed her and tried not to complain for the rest of the movie. My executive assistant called me at five in the morning. “Hello? Mr. Lockwood?” “Make it quick.” “The board said they have all the information they need regarding the assignment. They said you can come back now.” Now? I’m not ready! “Um, tell them I’m still looking into some things and I’ll need to stay here the full six weeks, maybe a little longer,” I hung up. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wanted to spend a lot more time with Selena—we hadn’t even had sex yet. But I promised myself I wouldn’t be intimate with her until I admitted that I was the CEO of Autumn Wonder, until I was as honest with her as she’d been with me. I thought about numerous ways to break it to her, but every time I attempted to she went into another memory she had of Sweet Seasons, another story about how the community members were trying their hardest to save it from the “greedy dickheads at Autumn Wonder.” My phone rang again. Barry. “Hello?” “What’s her name?” he laughed. “What are you talking about?” “What’s the name of the woman you’re dating? You were just complaining about not wanting to be there and now all of a sudden you’re trying to stay? Longer than six weeks?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Barry. I think I need to survey some more of our competition and make sure our files are all in order,” I said as convincingly as possible. The line went quiet, Barry’s way of calling my bluff. “Her name is Selena,” I sighed. “Well, Selena better be amazing buddy.” She’s more than amazing… “She really is. Hey, is there any way we could hold off on announcing the Southern menu items for the rest of the stores? I’m not so sure about those pies now…” “Are you kidding me?” he scoffed. “Those pies are incredible! We’re not taking them off our menu unless you have something better to replace them with. Do you?” “No, but I was thinking we could find something new over the next six months. We could start the whole project over to make sure we’re selling the best possible product.”

“Are you on drugs?” he sounded concerned. “I don’t believe we made you submit to the mandatory employee drug test before shipping you down there…” “Shut up Barry. No, I’m not on drugs…I’m just—I’m feeling really guilty about crushing a small business that means so much to the community.” “You never have before! Wasn’t it you who said, ‘Never make it personal, businesses don’t have faces’?” I was silent. I never realized how cold-hearted that line was until now. I’d said it over and over, had it printed in bold on all the corporate training manuals, and I never thought twice about how it affected the small family owned businesses. “Yeah, I said that…” “So why the sudden change of heart?” he asked and I could practically picture him pacing his office. “If sales continue at the rate they’re going, especially with that great idea of selling our products at local events, we’ll have surpassed Starbucks by twenty percent in six months. Twenty percent! And we’ll have shut Sweet Seasons down by Christmas. We may be able to crush them way before then… I’m looking for the problem here, Ethan. Where is it?” “There isn’t one,” I sighed. “I thought so. Now, I can keep the board off your back for three more weeks, but that’s all I can promise. They want you back so we can go over the marketing details for the Italy stores.” “Okay thanks,” I hung up. “Happy Halloween!” Selena called me an hour before my alarm went off. “Umm Happy Halloween? I didn’t realize it was today.” “Well it is! Do you want to go on a date tonight? How about trick or treating?” How old are we again? “I don’t really do trick or treating…And I don’t have a costume so—” “Excuses! Just wear jeans and a T-shirt. Meet me at Sweet Seasons at nine! Talk to you later!” “Selena, wait I—” She hung up. If she had been any other woman, I would have simply said “no” to trick or treating and that would have been it; but Selena had a way of disarming me and I always found it quite difficult to tell her no. As a matter of fact, even when I did tell her “no” all she had to do was guilt me with one gray eyed glance to get me to change my mind. I pulled up to Sweet Seasons at eight forty five and took a seat at the coffee counter. Although the shop was due to close in fifteen minutes, there were a lot of people standing around. An elderly man handed me a pink flyer and put his hand on my shoulder. “Make sure you come out and support the best bakery in town all next week.” I looked over the flyer and tried to force the sour taste of guilt back down my throat:

Support Sweet Seasons! Show Autumn Wonder where the heart of Fayetteville really lies! Half-priced Sweets and Pies for the next week! Save Sweet Seasons! I tried to tune out the conversations that were happening all around me, but it was no use: “Did you hear how Autumn Wonder stole their mile high chocolate pie? They stole the exact ingredients!” “Why do these big companies always come and stomp on us? Don’t they have enough money from the big cities?” “Maybe we could organize a bigger rally.” “We should contact their corporate office and try to talk things out.” “Or maybe we should burn it down!” I whipped my head around to see where the arson comment had come from—an elderly woman who was standing atop a chair and waving her fork in the air. “There’s no need for violence, Mrs. Hansen,” Selena’s mom pulled down the window shades. “We just have to keep fighting and hoping for the best.” There was a collective mumble of “Yeah,” “I guess,” and “She’s right.” I took several deep breaths and shut my eyes. I silently repeated the speech I prepared yesterday and promised myself I would speak it aloud by the end of the night: “Selena, I know we haven’t known each other that long and that you have no obligation to stay with me after I tell you this but…I really like you—a lot, and I want to continue dating you, despite the fact that…I’m the CEO of Autumn Wonder. I came to town to stake out the competition and figure out ways to put local competitors out of business. I know it sounds cruel, maybe even cold-hearted, but it’s the truth…I honestly had no idea that you and your mom were connected to Sweet Seasons…If I could take back everything I did—shipping all of your pies to Boston to get the exact ingredients and deliberately underselling your shop’s prices, I would…Please forgive me…I really don’t want to lose—” “Are you coming Ethan?” Selena shook my shoulder. “Or did you want to continue staring into space?” I snapped out of my thoughts and looked her up and down—smiling at her sexy Tinker-bell costume. She could make a potato sack look good… “I’m coming,” I moved off the stool and followed her out of the store. “We’re going trick or treating in town?” “No,” she laughed. “I’m going to drive us to my mom’s house. We’re going to trick or treat where people actually live.” She unlocked the doors to her mother ’s white SUV and waited for me to climb inside. “Before we go I need to tell you something Selena,” I placed my hand over the gears. “What is it? Are you scared of trick or treating?” “What? No…Actually, I’ve never been trick or treating so—” She gasped. “How is that possible? Weren’t you a child once?” “I’m sure everyone was at some point,” I laughed, “but that’s not what I was going to tell you.” She revved the car up and smiled. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait. I think getting your first trick

or treating experience out of the way is far more important right now.” I wish I could agree with that… We pulled up to her mother ’s place and she jumped out of the car. She ran over to my side and flung my door open. “We’re already late. Come on,” she reached for my hand and practically dragged me inside the house. There were Halloween decorations everywhere: Large cobwebs with plastic spiders hung from the ceiling, dimly lit Jack o’ lanterns sat every few feet, and skeletons dressed in different costumes— Jack Sparrow, Cinderella, Peter Pan—were standing near different doorways. In the kitchen, a group of twenty kids was sitting quietly on the floor. They were listening to “Pocahontas” read a scary story and eating black and orange pumpkin cookies. “Is everybody ready?” Selena screamed. “Yeah! Yes! Selena’s back! Awesome!” the kids screamed back. “Alright, get your treat bags ready and meet me on the porch! You’ve got two minutes!” The kids jumped up and down and ran in different directions, screaming with enthusiasm. This better not be what I think this is… “Are you ready?” she looked at me with her ‘please don’t be mad at me’ face. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention that this wouldn’t be a one on one date…” “I don’t think you know the definition of the word ‘date’…Is this a family tradition?” “Yeah…I took all the neighborhood kids trick or treating every year, ever since I was ten. My mom and I would host a party for them and I would take them door to door. It used to really help the neighbors out. I feel so bad about not being there for them over the past four years…The ones who remember me probably thought that I—” “They still love you,” I gave her a quick kiss. “What do you want me to do?” She handed me a treat bag. “Enjoy your first time.” We walked out onto the porch and the kids were still jumping up and down in anticipation. Selena assigned me a group of ten kids to keep up with, and my group followed her group. She led us down the road to a dilapidated house that didn’t have any of its lights on. It had no glass over any of its windows and all of its cinder-colored shutters were in horrible condition. “Who wants to ring the doorbell? Who wants to start the fun tonight?” she beamed. This is considered “fun”? Ringing the doorbells to empty houses? My group of kids grabbed onto my legs and hid behind me. “No takers?” she teased. None of the kids said a word, but a young Batman stepped forward and timidly raised his hand. “Okay,” Selena whispered. “Go up there and ring the doorbell.” Batman took three steps forward and looked back. He took four more steps forward then ran back towards the group, hiding behind me. Selena laughed to herself and walked up to the porch. She rang the doorbell but no one answered. She dramatically shrugged her shoulders and just as she was about to step down, the lights in the house began flickering. Rolls of toilet paper flew out of all the windows and the tattered shutters

opened and closed rapidly. A loud and evil “Muhawhahahaha….Muhawhahahaha” laugh played from a set of speakers. The front door flew open and the kids screamed. A group of teenagers dressed in creepy masks and black sheets ran out amongst the kids—chasing a few of them, tossing candy into the yard. They screamed, “Happy Halloween losers!” and “No one can hear you scream!” a few times before running back inside. The kids were terrified. Frightened. The four year old Superman in my group wet himself. The kids ran around the yard shrieking and crying, until they realized there was candy on the ground and began picking it up. What in the hell just happened? The next houses were inhabited by normal people: Their lights were on, and all the kids had to do was ring the doorbell and say “Trick or Treat” once the door opened to get a handful of candy placed into their bags. We stopped by every house in the neighborhood, and the kids seemed to get more energetic as time wore on. Selena shot me a few “bear with me” glances throughout the night, but we didn’t talk much—not that I minded though. I was actually enjoying myself, wishing that I hadn’t attended boarding school for half my life so I could’ve experienced trick or treating as a kid. “Hey,” a little Cinderella tugged at my pants. “I don’t feel like walking anymore.” “Okay…” She stretched her arms up towards the sky and blinked at me. I hesitantly bent down and offered her my shoulders. “You’re tall,” she slapped me in the face with her treat bag. “What’s your name?” “Ethan. Yours?” “Cinderella, duh!” I laughed. “It’s an honor to meet you, Cinderella.” “I know! Is she your girlfriend?” she pointed towards Selena. “Um…” “You can tell me! I won’t tell anyone! I promise!” “Um…I guess you could say that but…We don’t really—” She gasped. “Put me down! Put me down!” I stopped and bent down, letting her climb off me. She twisted her treat bag around her wrist and immediately ran towards Selena. She motioned for Selena to bend down and I could see Selena’s face turning bright red as soon as Cinderella broke her promise. Figures… Selena blew me a kiss and the kids shouted “Eeeeww!” “Gross!” and “Get a room!” We trick or treated for another hour; I made sure my kids had as much candy as their bags could hold and carried the sleepy ones for a few minutes at a time.

When we arrived back to Selena’s childhood home, she took away all the treat bags and wrote their names on each one. “Pick five pieces and put your bag in the hallway box!” she yelled. “If your bag isn’t in the box, you won’t get dinner!” The kids groaned, but they seemed to follow her instructions. Cinderella tugged my pants again. “Are you staying for the sleepover too?” Sleepover? “Um…I wasn’t aware that this was a—” “You have to stay! Last year we made spider cookies and Billy actually ate one! I’m going to try one this year! And you have to too!” I nodded and she ran off towards the kitchen. I waited for Selena to finish accounting for all the treat bags, waited for her to notice me staring. “It’s not polite to stare you know,” she smiled. “Was it polite not to tell me what type of party this was? It’s a sleepover?” She paled. “I figured you wouldn’t come if I told you that… It’ll be fun, I swear! You and me will still get to hang out since they have to be in their sleeping bags by two... Or did you want to leave now? I can take you back once my mom gets home. I can even call Joan and ask her to—” “I’d love to stay,” I kissed her forehead and walked away. I watched as Selena and a few of the neighborhood parents took turns telling ghost stories, making “haunted S’mores,” and playing games with the kids. I helped serve the “eyeball spaghetti” for dinner, and coaxed a few kids into eating slime-green ice cream for dessert. They bobbed for apples and played hide and go seek in the backyard until Selena’s mom rang the “Sleeping Spell Bell.” They resisted her soft warning at first, but they eventually headed back inside to change into their pajamas. Selena and I spread out blankets and sleeping bags in the living room, making sure they each had adequate space. We tucked the youngest ones in, and put in a movie to help the rest of them go to sleep. When she was certain the last resister was asleep, she motioned for me to follow her into the den, where her mother had left two mugs of hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. I covered us both in a blanket and held her close to me. “Tonight was a lot of fun. Thank you.” “You liked it?” “I did…It made me wish my parents hadn’t sent me off to boarding school every year. We never recognized Halloween as a real holiday there.” “What about college? You didn’t celebrate it there?” “Yeah. By partying,” I laughed. “Where would I trick or treat in college?” “I guess since I went to a hometown college I never really thought about that…You know something? I miss college a lot.” “Why?” She shrugged. “I could be myself with the rest of the drama geeks I guess and it wasn’t as clique-ish as high school…It’s so different once you make it to Hollywood. Everything is so fake. Everybody

expects you to be perfect onscreen and off-screen, and if you make one mistake it could be the end of your career…They never warned me about that in college…” “You don’t think you like being famous anymore?” “It’s not that I don’t like it,” she leaned back. “There are some days when I honestly want my picture taken, or I want to be seen in public. But after being here for a while, I’ve realized that that’s not really living, you know? The same people that were praising me and putting me on a pedestal months ago are the same people tearing me down and saying all those awful things…They never really liked me. They were just waiting for me to mess up…” “Are you crying?” I wiped her tears away with the blanket. “It’s okay, Selena. Don’t cry.” She and I sat in silence as the flames from the fireplace crackled and hissed. I wanted to spend the rest of the night kissing her, but I wasn’t sure if the kids were actually sleeping or if they were secretly spying on us from the hallway. “Are you still coming with me to the fair this weekend?” she looked up at me. “Of course. And actually, I need to finish telling you what I started earlier tonight...” “Let me guess,” she sighed, “you have a wife?” “No…” “Does the woman who rejected your proposal want you back now?” her voice cracked. “Has she been trying to win her way back into your heart?” she looked like she was about to burst into tears. “No…” She stilled and practically whispered, “You really are a reporter and us dating was just for a high profile story…And you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home, right?” “You have quite the imagination,” I held her face in my hands and looked directly into her eyes. “But for the record, I don’t have a wife, a girlfriend, or any crazy fiancée who wants me back. I only have you, and I’d like to keep it that way for a very long time…” “Okay…” she exhaled. “Well, what is it then, if it’s not any of the worst things it could possibly be? I don’t think anything you tell me could be that bad, unless it’s about my mom...And it couldn’t be about my mom, right?” Jesus…It’s now or never… “It’s about Sweet Seasons, Selena. I’ve been trying to tell you this for a while and I honestly should’ve said something as soon as you mentioned it. I want you to know that—” “Oh no! I don’t mean to rile you up about it too! I just need someone to vent to! Sorry if I vent about it too much though. Did I tell you they stole my mom’s sour cream apple pie last week?” she looked hurt. “No, you didn’t…” “Yep. One of our customers brought a slice of it over and it’s definitely my mom’s recipe, right down to the strips of cinnamon underneath the second lattice. She didn’t let me see, but I know she was crying in her office right after she found out… It’s like they’re sending spies down here to figure out each pie so they can use the recipe for all their stores. Isn’t that heartless? Isn’t that an asshole-type thing to do?” “It is…” I felt a pang in my chest. “I’m sorry! I did it again, didn’t I?” she shook her head. “What did you want to say about Sweet

Seasons?” Shit. Shit. Shit! “Umm…you know what? I forgot…I’m sure it’ll come back to me soon.” “Okay, well let’s not talk about that…or our careers. Let’s focus on happier things,” she closed her eyes and slightly puckered her lips. I bent down to kiss her and heard the pattering of little feet. I looked up and saw Cinderella walking into the room, dragging her sleeping bag behind her. “I’m sleeping in here with you guys,” she crossed her arms. “Someone is in there snoring! I’m a princess! I don’t like snoring!”

Chapter 21 Selena “Selena Ross, how do you feel now that the audio of Phillip Hartford lying to you has been released to the public?” Joan tapped her notebook. “Vindicated.” “Just to rehash a few things for our viewers back at home,” she paused. “Us Weekly released a secretly recorded audio tape of a conversation that the two of you had on set months ago. On the tape, Mr. Hartford is clearly begging you to engage in a relationship with him, despite the fact that you mention recently discovering that he has a wife. He tells you that he and his wife are in the middle of a divorce and that you shouldn’t be concerned about it. He says he’s only interested in you and that he hasn’t loved his wife in over ten years.” “Correct.” “So,” Joan perfectly imitated a nosy interviewer, “why didn’t you immediately go to the press with your side of the story?” “I knew time would take care of that for me, and I honestly needed a break to think about some things on my own.” “And what about—” I wonder what Ethan’s doing right now…I hope he can come over tonight, we haven’t watched The Proposal together yet…I love how he holds me the entire time we watch a movie…how he kisses me whenever the two main characters kiss onscreen… “Selena Ross?” Joan narrowed her eyes at me. “Could you please answer the question?” “Umm yeah sure,” I nodded at her and closed my eyes. All I could think about was Ethan. All day. Every day. It was so bad that my mom and Joan had resorted to spraying my face with cold water and throwing things at me to keep me focused: I messed up every customer ’s order at Sweet Seasons, failed to be coherent during Joan’s mock interview sessions, and forgot whatever words were said to me within seconds. I was falling in love with him. I had to be. I’d never felt this way about anyone else, not even my first love. Ethan was the only guy I’d ever been completely honest with, the only guy who seemed to see right through me and truly understand. I reveled in each and every one of our phone conversations, each weeknight date, and each passionate kiss. He’s such an amazing kisser…I can’t wait until the first time we— I felt squirts of ice cold water on my face and immediately opened my eyes. Joan put down her mini water gun. “This is insane. Did you hear a word of what I was saying?” “No…” “I can’t believe I turned down a political career for this,” she sighed. “You’re clearly not focused right now, so we’ll do another mock interview later in the week. We really need to take advantage of

this tape being leaked to the public, Selena. Everyone’s perception of you is going to change drastically and positively over the next week or two. Also, since I highly doubt you were listening to me earlier today, the director of Sweet Tennessee only wants you for the lead role so he’s willing to push back the filming if you’re still interested. He wants to have a decision from you in two weeks. Hello? Hello!” How come Ethan never tried acting? Even if he was terrible at it, I’m sure millions of women would line up to see his films anyway…He’s so damn sexy… “Call me when you’re ready to focus, Selena,” she stood up. “No Joan! Stay! I’ll get focused, I swear!” She rolled her eyes. “One more chance or we’re just going to do it another day okay? I have other things I could be doing that don’t involve watching you froth at the mouth.” “I got it. I’m ready, more than ready.” “Okay,” she looked at her folder. “Miss Ross, there were several pictures of you and Mr. Hartford hanging out at a private beach. Why did you feel—” “Did I tell you Ethan had a private beach made for me?” I smiled. “He like, bought it! We go there every other day and it’s just us two...Do you think he likes me as much as I like him Joan? He has to like me a lot to build me my own beach right? Do you think he’s ever done that for someone else?” “I’m going to go eat my dinner.” “What! You can’t leave me! We’re doing mock interviews!” “Right...” she picked up her folders and laughed. “See you tomorrow Selena.” “You think he likes me though right? Stop walking away from me! You hear me talking to you, Joan! Tell me what you think!” Ethan passed me a bale of pink cotton candy and wrapped his arms around my waist. We walked around the fair giggling like teenagers, laughing at things that weren’t even funny. I closed my eyes and realized how refreshing it was to not have to worry about paparazzi hanging around, to not have people running up to me for autographs or cell phone pictures. Everyone was too in tune with what was happening at the fair to pay me any attention, and for the first time in years, I was actually happy about that. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a croaky voice came over the speakers. “Thank you all for coming out to the annual Arkansas State Fair! For those of you who are interested in the baked goods contests, we encourage you to head over to the main stage. We will be announcing the winners in fifteen minutes!” “Good luck,” Ethan released my hand. “I’m going to get us some more tickets. I’ll meet you over there.” I practically ran for the main stage, pushing my way through the crowd, waiting for the announcer to reveal the winners. I knew my cake was the least traditional out of all the entries and that I probably could’ve made it ten times better if I had more time, but I still wanted to win. Badly. A woman wearing a loose-fitting purple dress took center stage and pulled the roll of ribbons from her front pocket. She read off the pie winners first, then the cookies, then the cobblers.

“And now for our last category! We had some amazing entries this year and would like to thank everyone who took the time to create an original cake!” she adjusted the microphone. “However, we could only pick the top three cakes so…In third place, from Springdale County, Rita Olson’s ‘Sweet Vanilla Bean n’ Oreo’ cake!” The crowd cheered as the woman made her way onstage and took her yellow ribbon. “In second place, also from Springdale County, is Nancy Vera Johnson with her ‘Coca Cola n’ Orange Cream Surprise’ cake!” Miss Johnson was already on stage for winning another contest, so she tapped the announcer on her shoulder and reached for the red ribbon. “And in first place, from Fayetteville County, Selena Anne Beauregard with her ‘Triple Truffle Chocolate and Caramel Bourbon’ cake!” Yes! Yes! Yes! I rushed past the people in my way and practically leapt on stage. I grabbed my bright blue ribbon from the announcer and clapped as if I’d just won the lottery. The other winners and I posed for pictures and shook hands with the governor. Even he didn’t mention the fact that I was a celebrity. He simply smiled and congratulated me like I was any other citizen. I pinned my ribbon onto my shirt and searched for Ethan in the crowd. I walked back to where we’d stopped holding hands but he wasn’t there. I walked around the main stage and circled back to the entry point, but I couldn’t find him. “Your real name is Selena Anne Beauregard?” he wrapped his arms around me from behind. “No! It’s Ross!” “Sure it is,” he laughed. “I learn something new about you every day. Are you ready for some rides?” “Yes!” We rode Sweethearts’ Lane first; the slow water boat ride with heart shaped swans, and made fun of the teenage lovebirds that were in front us. The boy was trying his hardest to kiss his riding mate, but no matter what he did she couldn’t catch the hint. When we were in line for the Tilt A Whirl, I realized that Ethan hadn’t made a move to kiss me all night. I tried getting his attention on the carousel—sitting in his lap and slightly puckering my lips, but he laughed. I even tried leaning into his lap on the teacup ride, making it crystal clear that I wanted a kiss, but he acted as if he couldn’t tell. When we were sitting atop the Ferris wheel, I leaned over his lap again and he laughed even harder. I gave up. I rolled my eyes and looked out over the fair. The bright and busy lights, red and white striped tents, and the sweet smell of funnel cakes and hot dogs had yet to lose their luster to me. They were still as enthralling as they were four years ago. Once the wheel began to move back down, I started to feel sporadic droplets of rain. “I think I’ll be ready to leave after this,” I sighed. “Will you help me get all my cake covers and stuff before we go? And would you help me put them away at my mom’s house?” “You’re asking for a lot, Selena Beauregard.”

“It’s Ross! Will you please help me?” “It’s funny how you can ask for things like that, but you expect me to read your mind when it comes to other things,” he pulled me close and laughed. The audacity! “You want me to beg you for a kiss?” “I didn’t say that,” he smiled. “Well, I’m not going to beg and I’m not going to ask. I shouldn’t have to.” “And why is that Selena?” “Why is that? Why is that! Really? Because I’ve never had to and I’m not going to start! I don’t need to—” He stamped his mouth over mine and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. “You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met,” he kissed me again before releasing me. “We should probably get out of here before the rain picks up, don’t you think?” All I could do was nod. His kisses always left me breathless. The rain was relentless. I could barely see outside the windshield and was glad Ethan forced me to let him drive. Lightning was striking every ten seconds, and we could barely hear the radio’s weather announcer over the booming thunder. I tried staying awake to keep Ethan company, but I fell asleep thirty minutes into the ride. By the time I woke up, we were pulling up to my mother ’s house and the rain was falling heavier than before. We both made a dash for the front door—expensive cake covers and cakes in hand. I set my cakes down on the porch and opened the door. We placed the cakes in the refrigerator and ran back out for the second set. I held one cake cover against my hip and rummaged around in my pockets for the keys to put it away. Then it hit me. “I think I locked the keys inside the house…” “You did what?” Ethan’s eyes widened. He heard what I said… “What did you say, Selena?” “I said I locked the keys inside,” I didn’t look up at him. “And I think the car is locked too…” “Should I assume that you don’t have Triple A and that the locksmith won’t be able to come out until tomorrow morning?” I nodded. “Selena, Selena, Selena,” he walked over to the garden bench and motioned for me to sit down. “Do you want me to get us a cab?” “I doubt one would come out here in this weather. I’m sorry...” “It’s okay,” he put his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve always wanted to sleep outside on a garden bench. Let’s just wait for the rain to slow down. Maybe I can get us one later.”

The rain never let up. It fell harder and harder, dragging a harsh wind along with it. Each time it blew by, Ethan and I were splattered with a soft shower of mist from the awning above. “Does your mother have a spare key hidden outside somewhere?” his teeth chattered. “Or is there a back window she leaves open?” “No…Wait, there’s blankets and stuff in my tree-house out back. We could go up there until it slows down.” “Is the roof sealed? Does it leak?” “It’s completely sealed. I promise.” He looked over his shoulder at the tree house and stood up. “Okay…On the count of three.” “Why do you get to count?” “Because I didn’t lock the keys in the house!” he shouted. Oh… “One,” he led me over to the steps, “two…three!” We jumped off the porch and ran around the side of the house, letting the merciless raindrops drench our clothes. I took my time climbing up the ladder, making sure my hands completely grasped the slippery metal rungs. Once I made it inside, I grabbed a blanket from the corner and wrapped it around myself. “Here you go,” I handed Ethan a quilt once he shut the door. I set my cell phone down on the dresser and he slammed his next to mine. I moved away from him and sat quietly in the corner, wondering how long he would be mad at me. “I need to get out of these wet clothes,” he sounded annoyed. “Could you turn around please?” “Why?” “Selena…” “Fine,” I took another blanket from my pile and draped it over my head. Of course, I knew where all the holes in my old blankets were and watched him the entire time. I already knew he had amazing upper body, but the sight of him peeling out his wet shirt still made me blush. I’d run my hands against his sculpted abs and playfully nuzzled his chiseled chest while we watched movies together, but I’d never seen him completely naked before. As he turned around to take off his boxers and jeans, I stifled a gasp with both my hands. I immediately felt foolish for making that “measure up” comment weeks ago. That was definitely a huge mistake. Jesus! Once he wrapped himself in a blanket he walked over to me and tapped my head. “Did you enjoy the show, Miss Beauregard?” Yes… “What are you talking about?” I pulled the blanket off my head. “I wasn’t watching you…” “Of course you weren’t. Your turn,” he actually went to the other side of the tree-house and turned his back. I peeled out of my jeans and tank top, but decided to leave my bra and panties on—they were only

slightly dampened by the rain, and I knew being naked around Ethan wasn’t a good idea. “I’m done now Ethan,” I adjusted my blanket wrap. “Are you mad at me?” “No…even though I think I should be,” he turned around and laughed. “I take it you used to come out here a lot?” “Yeah, I practically lived in here when I was a teenager. I had a mattress pad and everything.” “Did you have invisible friends too?” I stood up and hit a few tap lights. “No. I had real friends.” “Have you hung out with them since you’ve been back?” I didn’t answer him. I hit another tap light and pulled all the quilts from the plastic bin. I unfolded them one by one and made a large pallet before sitting down. He sat down beside me. “What did I say?” “Nothing,” I could feel tears welling in my eyes. “I only had two friends here, two best friends... One was my first love and one was my BFF since like first grade…We were all considered “the three weirdos” in middle and high school so we stuck together through everything…The day I left for New York, to go to this modeling competition, I caught both of them making out…I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t interrupted they would’ve had sex right then and there. Actually, they’d been hooking up behind my back for four months so they probably did have sex before then…” “I’m sorry,” he rubbed my back. “I wouldn’t have brought that up if I knew.” “I saw them the day I poured that coffee on you…She’s pregnant by him now and I guess I shouldn’t be upset. I left and didn’t talk to either of them again, but it still hurts, you know? They were the closest people in my life next to my mom…Maybe that’s why I’m so screwed up when it comes to relationships.” “You’re not screwed up, Selena.” I lay back into his arms and sighed. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Outside of my mother, I’d never told anyone else that story and it still drained me to think about it. The thunder and rain were the only noises between us for a while—save for the soft kisses he gave me every few minutes. I sat up and faced him. “Did your phone get soaked?” “Probably. Why?” “I wanted to know what time it was.” He stood up and grabbed his watch from the dresser. He sat back down and waited for me to take my place in his arms. “It’s twelve thirty three.” “Thanks. You know, I always thought turning twenty five would feel a lot different…Every birthday feels the same to me.” “I thought your birthday was Tuesday…You gave people a fake birthday?” “Don’t judge me,” I laughed. “I gave them the right year, just the wrong date. I knew no one from Fayetteville would go to the press about anything out of respect for my mom. I wasn’t joking when I said I completely started a new identity…” “So, today is your birthday?” I nodded.

He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Selena? I could’ve taken you out somewhere. We could’ve gone to—” “I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to do anything for me…I haven’t really celebrated the real day over the past few years anyway. I usually act like it’s any other day.” “You still should have told me,” he sighed again. “Well, I was going to ask you about this on Tuesday, but I guess now would be more appropriate.” He stood up and walked over to where his wet pants were draped over a chair. He pulled out his wallet and unfolded a few sheets of paper. “I was in Wal-Mart a couple days ago and came across your face on a magazine…” “Are you seriously about to ask me about a tabloid story?” He laughed and sat in front of me. “Come on now, don’t you know me better than that? This was a cover story and interview with Cosmopolitan magazine.” I froze. I’d forgotten all about my interview with Cosmo. I’d done it months ago—way before my wedding to Matt Sterling. They’d sent me an advanced copy once it was finished and were supposed to release it at the beginning of the fall, but my scandal forced them to push it back. “It’s um…” he playfully waved the sheets of paper. “It’s a pretty interesting magazine—even though it seems to be all about…Well, I’m sure you know what it’s all about. I bought a few copies, but I ripped out the only part that interests me.” I was glad the lights in the tree-house were dim; I was sure my face was the color of a tomato. He cleared his throat and read the paper. “Selena Ross Tells Us How She Likes It in Bed…Pretty straightforward title, don’t you think? Miss Ross sat down with us over coffee at the new high rise Starbucks,” he emphasized that word and rolled his eyes, “and let us know how a guy can keep her satisfied between the sheets.” Oh my god… “Selena believes that the key to having amazing sex is communication,” he began to mock my voice. “I personally am a fan of talking during sex, she says—not full blown conversations or anything, but sweet sentences here or there. When we asked what her favorite position was, she giggled, ‘This is going to sound lame, but I’m a conventional girl. I like missionary. I like the guy to be in control— it’s the one area of my life where I like to completely let go and let someone else be in charge.’ As we were—” “Stop reading it!” I reached for that stupid paper so I could tear it pieces, but he held it up high. “I don’t think so,” he swatted my hand away and smirked. “It gets even better…As we were ordering our Venti Frappuccinos—she likes a lot of caramel drizzle on hers—Selena admitted that she sometimes uses her own bedroom experience as inspiration for the steamy scenes in her films. ‘Making love is an art,’ she sipped her coffee. ‘I love to do that whenever I can. It’s an incredible experience—to know that the person you’re doing it with cherishes you; to feel like every touch, every stroke, every kiss means as much to you as it does to him. I think every woman should experience it at least once during her lifetime.’ Selena also admitted that naked sex is hotter than halfclothed sex, that sex toys scare her to death but she’d be willing to try some out, and that she is a fan of quickie sex whenever possible.’ We at Cosmo are sure her future husband will approve.” He put the paper down and smiled. “There’s more to this interview, you know—you give your fans seduction tips and talk about how you decide if a piece of lingerie is worth buying or not, but I’ll

spare you for now. Is any of this true? Outside of the ‘making love’ part, which I already know is a lie…Or is it?” I didn’t say anything. I was ashamed that I’d actually done that interview and even more ashamed that he’d read it aloud. He cupped my face in his hands. “Is any of it true?” I closed my eyes and hoped he would forget all about it in a matter of seconds. I was about to pretend to fall asleep, but I felt him tickling the back of my neck. “Okay, okay,” I giggled. “Some of it is true.” “Really?” he cut my laughter short with a kiss. “Which parts?” “I’m not telling you!” “Why not?” “Because you don’t need to know!” “I beg to differ,” he grabbed me and pulled me down to the floor. “Tell me which parts were true.” “Well, I do like lots of caramel on my Frappuccino...” He laughed. “You do know that I beat you at every single game we play, right? Is that what we’re about to do?” “I guess so,” I crossed my legs and clung to my blanket wrap. “Okay Selena. We’ll play it your way.” Good… He kissed my forehead and caressed my face. I braced myself for another kiss, but he began pulling bobby pins out of my hair—softly searching my scalp for each one, taking his time. “Your hair was really pretty today Selena…I like when you wear it up…” I took a deep breath and tried not to focus on him. He was barely touching me and I was already lost. I decided to ask him a question—something about the hot dogs we ate at the state fair, but my body suddenly stilled—I felt his hands slipping underneath my blanket, softly stroking my thighs. I shut my eyes then reopened them to see that he’d moved on top of me. Just that quickly. “Ethan…” I could barely speak, his touch was too much. “Which parts were true?” “The interview was at Starbucks,” I murmured, and he rewarded that pathetic answer with an open mouthed kiss that sent tremors up and down my spine. “That’s not what I’m talking about Selena,” he slid his hands across my legs again. “Is it the part about no-clothes sex being better than half-clothes sex?” Don’t answer that…Just keep looking like you don’t know what the hell he’s talking about… I heard the sound of lace tearing and realized he’d ripped my panties off. “I liked those panties Ethan,” I gasped. “They were my favorites!” He tossed them into the corner and smiled at me. “I’ll buy you some new ones,” he slowly ripped all the snaps off my bra. “I wouldn’t have done that if you’d answered my question...Do you want to answer it now?” No…I need to figure out a way to distract him...

I suppressed a moan as he sensually bit my neck. “Would you show me how to ride a motorcycle one day?” “Maybe. I’m not convinced you’re over your fear yet. You still back away whenever you see me riding mine.” “I am! I really want to learn now!” “Hmmm,” he pulled my bra over my head and began kissing my breasts. “I’ll think about it.” Shit… “Um, did I ever tell you I won the Shakespeare recitation contest my first two years in college? There was a trivia portion and I was the only one who knew the work, act, and scene that each random line came from.” He stopped. “You read Shakespeare?” “Who doesn’t?” “You’re a very impressive person Selena,” he looked into my eyes. “I don’t know why you ever changed anything about yourself for people who didn’t matter.” I thought I had him distracted. I was about to ask what his favorite Shakespearean work was and move away from him, but he continued teasing my nipples with his tongue. This would be a lot easier if this didn’t feel so good… I couldn’t act unaffected anymore—he was starting to kiss me all over, and his skilled mouth was sending me over the edge. He was going lower and lower and—I twitched and let a muffled moan escape from my throat. “Do you—do you—do you think you’ll visit me in New York after you go back to Boston, Ethan?” I asked breathlessly. He stopped his barrage of kisses and sat up. “What type of question is that?” “And would you mind being my plus one at this wedding?” I reached down and pulled a blanket over my body. “It’s in a month and it’ll be in Memphis, Tennessee. I don’t have anyone else to go with…” He snatched the blanket away and smiled. “So I’m your last resort?” “Yes. I mean, no. No. I want you to go with me. I wasn’t trying to—” “Selena,” he put his finger atop my lips. “Are you honestly trying to distract me and play shy?” “Depends…Are you trying to have sex with me? In my treehouse?” “No,” he whispered. “I’m trying to make love to you…Unless you just want to cuddle. I’m sure that’d be really enjoyable too…What do you want to do?” I awoke to Ethan planting kisses on my face and running his fingers through my hair. It was still storming outside, but the rain was down to a steady patter and the thunder was a soft rumble. “Good morning beautiful,” he looked into my eyes. “Are you feeling okay?” I gave a slight nod. I couldn’t do much else. My body was in a state of shock and I could still feel the after effects of last night.

I finally realized it was true: There was a huge difference between “making love” and “having sex,” and after being with Ethan, I didn’t want to “have sex” ever again. “Are you going to say something to me?” he smiled. “Anything?” I shook my head. He laughed and pulled me into his arms. He kissed me again and again, and told me how happy he was that he’d met me. We lay gazing at each other for what felt like forever, ignoring the distorted rings of our cell phones. I didn’t want the moment to ever end. Ethan took one more look at me and kissed me before closing his eyes. When I was sure he was sleeping, I reached over and touched his face, delicately dragging my fingers across his lips. “I think I could hang out with you for the rest of my life…” His eyes fluttered open and he raised his eyebrow. I gasped. “I’m sorry, I thought you were sleeping...I’m not trying to imply what you might think—I’m not saying… I know we haven’t known each other that long but…Well, I feel really close to you and...I guess I’m just saying that last night was incredible and I’d love to do that again…And umm I really enjoy spending time with you every day and—” He stopped my babbling with a soft and passionate kiss. “I feel the same way about you.”

Chapter 22 Ethan My feelings were uncontrollable—I couldn’t even pretend like I had power over them. My heart seemed to beat faster every time Selena was around me, and as hard as I tried to stay focused on other things throughout the day, she managed to slip into my mind. We made love every day, over and over—in her tree-house, in her hotel suite, in my car, and in the small town’s movie theater. Yet, the more intimate she and I became, the guiltier I felt. One night while we were in bed, she began to cry about Sweet Seasons, telling me that all the publicity her mother had done—two segments on the local news, a week’s worth of articles in the Fayetteville Observer, and a rally that even the mayor attended, had fallen flat. She told me she hated Autumn Wonder for hurting her mother. She said she couldn’t understand why they would blatantly steal the heritage coffee and signature pies. She promised she would never give them a dime of her money again, and that she would only frequent the family owned coffee shops (and Starbucks once a week “out of spite”) when she returned to New York. She’d finally agreed to watch The Godfather with me for the first time—provided I sit through two more romantic comedies right after, and I knew exactly where I wanted to pause the DVD and admit that I was the CEO of Autumn Wonder. I knew exactly how I wanted to say it, how I wanted to apologize, and how I wanted to ask if there was anything I could do to make things right for her and her mother. Selena jumped into my arms and kissed me before letting me inside her suite, “Hey Ethan.” “Good to see you too,” I kissed her back and put her down. “Are you ready to watch the greatest movie ever?” I handed her the DVD. “The movie that is all movies?” “No,” she rolled her eyes. “Well, too bad. You promised. I have something for you to open after dinner.” I set a brown box on the table and she ran her hands across it. She wasn’t wearing anything but a towel, and she didn’t seem like she had any interest in changing into something else. “Why do I have to open it after dinner?” I swear she questions EVERYTHING… “Because I said so.” She bit her lip. “Okay. After dinner.” I followed her over to the couch and she pressed play on her DVD player. She handed me a plate of pasta and I couldn’t help but notice that her towel had moved lower and her breasts were showing. “You want to move that towel back over your body or go put on some clothes so we can actually concentrate on the movie?” “No,” she moved it down even further.

“Selena, you’re not being fair…You promised.” “How am I not being fair? I pressed play. Isn’t the movie playing?” “You know what I mean. Put that towel back on.” “That towel?” she threw it over the TV. I set down my pasta and tried not to laugh. I walked over to the TV to remove the towel and—she was standing right in front of me when I turned around. Forget the movie… “Do you have any idea what the word compromise means, Selena?” “I’ve never heard of it before,” she smiled. “Clearly,” I wrestled her down to the floor and pinned her to the carpet. “Wait,” I released her arms and sat up. “I want you to open the box first.” “Now?” “Yes. Now.” She frowned and stood up, retrieving the box from the table and setting it down between us. She took her time opening it—pulling away every strand of tape, pushing down each cardboard flap. She pulled out an envelope and read the card aloud: Dear Selena, The past few weeks have been the most amazing weeks of my life. If it was up to me, I would never go back to Boston and I would keep you far away from New York. Nonetheless, we both have careers to go back to, so I hope this gift will keep our time here alive when we both go back to work. Your friend forever, Ethan. She ran her fingertips across the word “friend” for several seconds and smiled. She pulled a set of pink keys from the box and looked at me. “Keys? To what?” “Umm,” I pulled out the picture of a black suburban warehouse in New York. “I figured you probably won’t be able to come to Fayetteville every time you want to go to a private beach so…I had a team of engineers build an indoor one to the best of their ability. They did a really good job with it,” I flipped the picture over to show her the beach. “You can escape there whenever you want and the paparazzi will never know what’s inside.” “Oh my god,” her jaw dropped and she shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. I—” “There’s one more thing in the box…” She flipped the box upside down and picked up the gift—a one of a kind charm-bracelet from Belazi with diamond and sapphire charms: There was an intricately designed cherry bourbon pie, a pink firework, a coffee pot with the word “friend” etched onto its handle, a yellow Uno card, and a jet. “Happy belated birthday, Selena.” “Thank you so much Ethan,” she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me back down to the floor. “I love it! Wait…What’s the jet represent?” “I’m sure there’ll be a lot of flights between Boston and New York in the near future, don’t you think?”

She wiped away a tear and nodded. “You had no intention of watching The Godfather today did you?” I pinned her to the carpet again. “Nope, not at all.” I pulled up to Sweet Seasons and noticed that there were large red signs in all the windows: “Final Bake Sale This Week!” “Last Season for Sweets!” “After Twenty Seven Years, Sweet Seasons is Closing!” “Two Weeks Left to Get Your Favorite Sweets!” Guilt instantly washed over me, drowning me. I contemplated turning around and telling Selena that I had to work late, that I couldn’t stop by like I’d promised, but I saw her waving at me from the window. She and her mom walked outside hand in hand and stood next to me. “What do you think?” Selena looked up at me. “The staff worked late all week to finish all the signs.” What am I supposed to say to this? Her mom answered in tears before I could say anything. “I think they look swell, sweetheart. I’m really going to miss this place. It was the only thing that kept me going on some days. I really wanted to pass it down to you…or maybe even my granddaughter one day…” I’m going to hell… “Don’t cry mom!” Selena was crying as well. “You don’t have to close! You still own it! I’ll just give you enough money to operate for as long as you want! I’ll call my bank tomorrow morning and—” “I’m tired of fighting for now,” Selena’s mom hugged her and smiled weakly at me. “It doesn’t make sense to fund a business with no customers—it’d be a complete waste of your money…Besides, my own stubbornness is at fault for this. I should’ve changed with the times as soon as Starbucks came to town four years ago…” My conscience jumped out of my body and practically kicked me to the ground. I needed to say something, to finally admit it here and now. “It’s okay mom,” Selena leaned against me. “There was nothing you could have done. It was Autumn Wonder ’s fault. They were selfish and greedy and wanted all the bakery business to themselves. They’re complete assholes.” Tell her now. Tell her right now! Her mother wiped her face on her sleeve. “I guess I’ll finally get my chance to cruise the world— after I spend some quality time with you in New York first…I’ll let you two kids get to your date though. Would you walk me back inside please?” Selena hugged her mom and escorted her back inside the shop. I saw her wiping her face with Kleenex, gently rubbing her back, and saying the words “It’s going to be okay mom.” I sat back on my motorcycle and covered my face with my hands. This was it. This was the end of the line. I was sure she was going to hate me, that I could potentially lose her forever, but I had to tell her. “I have a surprise for you Ethan,” I felt Selena wrapping her arms around my neck. Don’t ask what it is. Just tell her the truth about Autumn Wonder. Right. Now.

“What is it?” “I decided to stay here for two more weeks.” “And why is that?” She stood on her toes and kissed me. “I’m not ready to leave. I want to spend more time with you… I’m going to cancel the role for Sweet Tennessee. If they really want me that much, they’ll wait.” “Selena, I—” “Don’t tell me you’re leaving…” she frowned. “No…No, I’m not leaving. I’ll be here for as long as you’re here, but I need to tell you that—” “Great! Do you want to go to the movies with me tonight?” “Not really, but I take it that you do?” “Yes! There’s a new romantic comedy out!” her eyes twinkled. “Then I don’t have much of a choice do I?” I bent down and kissed her. “Nope, you really don’t.” I am officially a coward… My phone rang. Barry. “Where have you been, man? I’ve been calling you for a week.” “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to get back to you. I’ve been busy.” “Busy doing what? Don’t answer that. I don’t even want to know. I was just calling to congratulate you on the Fortune cover. Kate ran across it in the supermarket yesterday. They did a pretty good article on you.” “I thought you said it wasn’t going to come out until December?” “December? November? What’s the big deal?” “I’m undercover! Won’t that blow the whole operation?” “Dude, you were on an undercover assignment—weeks ago. Now you’re just down there because you want to have fun. Relax. You know they always put magazines out early in Boston anyway. What are the chances of a set being shipped early to Fayetteville? You’re being paranoid. Call you later. Gotta go.” It was inevitable. I had to tell her. Tonight.

Chapter 23 Selena I wanted to show Ethan I could compromise. Since he always let me get my way, I wanted to show him that I could bend to him sometimes too. I’d spent all week working on a box of small gifts, hoping he would like it when I gave it to him later tonight. I hoped that after he read my handwritten note he would tell me he felt the same way I felt. I walked down the games aisle at CVS and picked up a set of Uno cards for his gift box. I picked up two bottles of apple cider from the endcap and headed for the register. “Good to see you back in your element hun,” the clerk smiled. “Try to come back more often. Okay?” “I will, Miss Kline.” “I don’t care what those papers said. You’re still our sweetheart. Is this it for you today?” “Yeah, I think that’s—” I spotted Ethan’s face on the cover of a Fortune magazine. What in the world is this? “You want that magazine too?” “Yes, please.” I grabbed my things once she bagged them and went outside. I sat on a bench and took out the magazine. It was definitely Ethan, Ethan Lockwood, “The Entrepreneur of the Year.” I flipped to the first page of the cover story and read: “Ethan Lockwood is so committed to the twenty billion dollar powerhouse that is Autumn Wonder that our staff had to meet him in Fayetteville, Arkansas to take the photo for this cover. “What brought him to Fayetteville, Arkansas you ask? Staking out the competition. Autumn Wonder ’s trademarked goods, the customized local items that can be found in each bakery needed to be better tuned for the Southern state menus, so much so that his board had him pose undercover at a local expansion site for six weeks. “Mr. Lockwood’s ability to infuse a sense of familiarity into each region’s Autumn Wonder is what sets his company apart from its heated rival, Starbucks. He credits his best friend Barry Worthington, 29, (who happens to be founding partner and current CFO) with helping him to achieve his dream of owning the largest coffee shop in the world.” I scanned the rest of the article, seething at each word I read, at each truth that juxtaposed the lies he’d been giving me. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I read it over and over, trying to make sure that the words weren’t playing tricks on me. I felt the sudden urge to cry, but I couldn’t get a single tear to fall. I was too angry. I called Joan. “Did you already tell Mr. Hines that I declined to be in Sweet Tennessee?” “No. He only answers his phone between seven and nine in the morning. I was going to—”

“I want to take the role now…Can you charter a jet for me and my mom? We need to leave tonight.” “I’ll get everything set up.” I closed my phone and leaned back on the bench. Here I was, thinking that I’d finally found someone who honestly cared about me, someone who nearly loved me, but I’d just been a fool. Again. I wanted to leave Ethan behind in Fayetteville and disappear—never giving him the chance to wonder what happened to me or why I’d left, but I wasn’t the type to let anyone get away without knowing that I’d been hurt. I took my time driving outside the city, showing up to the address he’d given me for our date. The house was small and rather quaint. It was white with light blue shutters and a concrete porch that was covered in clay potted plants. I didn’t make any attempts to hide my tears when I rang his doorbell. “Hey Selena,” Ethan answered the door and ushered me inside. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I looked around the room and noticed that everything was bare—no pictures on the walls, no decorative rugs, nothing remotely extravagant. I looked over at the room to my right and saw tall candles burning amidst a sea of colorful pillows. “You have pretty interesting taste for a billionaire CEO—the billionaire Autumn Wonder CEO,” I took the Fortune magazine out of my back pocket and threw it at him. His face went white. “I was going to tell you tonight. I really was. I honestly—” “The person who has been pushing me to be honest—the most honest I’ve been in my life, was lying to me the entire time! How could you do this? Why did you do this?” “Selena, I tried to tell you a few times before. I just…I had no idea that—” “All this time! All. This. Time! I kept telling you how Autumn Wonder was ruining my mom’s life and making her miserable and…It was you. Wasn’t it? You ordered all those pies and sent them to Boston so they could figure out what the ingredients were, didn’t you? Is that how they were able to duplicate them so fast? Is that where all your pies went?” He avoided looking into my eyes. “Yes…But I didn’t—” “Do you know how many people lost their jobs, Ethan? Do you realize how many people you hurt? I guess I should’ve known better…I’m used to being in fake relationships, Ethan. I really am. I just like to know when I’m in one.” “Selena,” he reached for my hand but I moved away. “I’m so sorry. I—” “You watched me close Sweet Seasons with my mother and you were secretly smiling inside! I was crying to you every night and…Is that why you asked what the recipe for my cherry bourbon pie was? On more than one occasion? Was that the only one your billion dollar corporation couldn’t figure out?” “I didn’t know it was your mother ’s shop at first. Please believe me. When I first found out, you and I weren’t that serious, and by the time I planned to tell you, we were already—”

“Already what? Already what!” “Selena, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I meant to tell you a long time ago, I just—” “The secret ingredients are mission figs and apple cider.” “Stop. Please listen—” “I soak the cherries in bourbon overnight, and then I add three cups of apple cider and let them marinate for five more hours. I cut up the mission figs and juice them, and then I bake them into the pie with the cherries. There. You got what you wanted. Happy? My own mother doesn’t know what the secret ingredients are…Hope your billions of customers enjoy it.” “Selena—” “I don’t want to hear from you ever again, Ethan Lockwood. Please don’t try to get in contact with me and if you can help it, please don’t run to the press and tell them about whatever the hell this was. I would say I could pay you not to, but I think you have more than enough money.” “Selena please, let me—” “I mean it! Stay the hell away from me!” I bolted out of his house and jumped into my car. I slammed my foot on the gas in reverse and pitched the gift box I’d made for him out my window. I could literally feel my heart shattering, but I knew the pieces would glue themselves back together once I got back to New York City. Once I was “Selena Ross” again.

Chapter 24 Ethan I tried running after her, but it was no use. I stooped down and picked up the yellow box she’d thrown. I walked back into my house and slammed the front door shut. I ripped the tape off the box and pulled out the card that sat on top: Dear Ethan, Thank you for being the most understanding guy I’ve ever met. I know I’m not easy to get along with most of the time, but thank you for being so patient. I made this “compromise box” to show you that I’m willing to be more flexible and accommodating. That said, I won’t watch The Godfather with you…I’ll watch all three of them, this week. I promise. I’ll let you go first in our next game of Confession Uno, and I’ll try to stop questioning you every time you try to surprise me…I’ve enjoyed every single second we’ve spent together over the past few weeks, and I hope that the jet charm on my bracelet will ring true once I return to New York and you go back to Boston. Your friend forever too, Selena “Beauregard” Ross P.S. I love you :-) She loves me? This soon? Is that possible? I sank down to the floor and sifted through the box: Uno cards, a picture of us kissing at the state fair, my hundred thousand dollar check with the words “I’ll go out with you for free, forever” scribbled across the front in her elegant handwriting, a slice of cherry bourbon pie, all three Godfather DVDs, and an orange and black pair of lace panties with a card attached to it: “Next time we go trick or treating, it’ll be just you and me :-)” I drove to Sweet Seasons, but the doors were locked and all the lights were off. I drove to her hotel and rushed up to her room. The door was slightly ajar so I pushed it open. I walked around her suite, but she was nowhere to be found. There were only suitcases, the bouquets of flowers I’d sent, and trunks of shoes. I walked around to the kitchen and saw her supermodellooking assistant talking on the phone. She looked at me and raised her eyebrow. “Miss Thatcher, can I call you back please?” she moved her phone away from her ear and crossed her arms. “Your name is Joan, correct?” I asked. “Yes. Can I help you with something?” “I hope so. My name is—” “Ethan Lockwood. I know who you are. What do you want?” “I need to speak with Selena.” “She left for New York a couple minutes ago. Would you like me to deliver a message?”

“Yes…Could you please tell her that I’m very sorry and I need to talk to her in person? As soon as possible?” “I can do that,” she suddenly looked sympathetic, “but I can’t promise she’ll listen.” I’m unfortunately well aware… “Thank you Joan.” Without Selena in Fayetteville, I had no reason to be there. I didn’t want or need to stay another day. I called Barry and let him know I was coming back tonight. I wasn’t sure if Lola had gotten her hands on the latest copy of Fortune so I decided to stop by Autumn Wonder. I walked through the employee entrance and the staff said their usual “Hey new coffee bean” and “What’s up Ethan” as I headed for the back office. “Ethan Reynolds!” Lola jumped up and down as I approached. “It’s a good thing you stopped by tonight!” So she doesn’t know… “Guess what?” she clapped her hands together and beamed. “What?” “Team! Gather ‘round!” she motioned for me to follow her to the front. The rest of the staff gathered around the front counter and Lola stood atop a chair. The customers that were sitting in the store shot curious glances over to the group. “I am happy to let you all know that Mr. Ethan Reynolds has officially,” she looked like she was about to cry, “earned his black expertise apron!” She bent down and pulled a black and gold apron from a cardboard box. The rest of the team cheered loudly as she instructed for me to put it on. Once I tied it on, she took a picture of me with her camera and gushed. “I am so proud of you, Ethan! I’m so proud! You grew up so fast!” I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Lola made me take a few more pictures with my coworkers, and allowed me to do the “honors” of cutting away my old green apron over the trash bin. After I had a piece of celebratory pie, I remembered why I was there. “Can I talk to you in the back for a second, Lola?” “Sure,” she picked up a slice of pie and followed me to the office. “What’s going on, Mr. Black Apron?” she sat at her desk. “I want to let you know that I’m going to Boston tomorrow.” “Okay…Family emergency? I can get Sarah to come in and cover for you. We can reschedule you for —” “I’m going there permanently, Lola. I’m sorry for such short notice, but I have to leave…But before I go, I wanted to personally let you know that as CEO of Autumn Wonder, it has been an absolute

pleasure working with you. I was here undercover for some research and well…your passion is definitely one of a kind.” Her jaw dropped. “You’re the CEO?” I took the Fortune magazine out of my back pocket and slid it across her desk. “Yes. And if you ever want to talk to me about any of your ideas for moving the company forward, I’d be more than happy to fly you up and listen to them…In fact, whenever you want to leave the retail sector let me know. We could use somebody like you at our corporate office. You wouldn’t have to do an interview or anything, just call me when you’re ready.” She jumped up and hugged me. “I trained the CEO of Autumn Wonder? Oh my god! Oh my god! How awesome is that? Thank you so much for your offer! I’ll take you up on that soon!” “I hope so,” I handed her my business card. “Just promise me you’ll never work for Starbucks.” “I promise!” I arrived in Boston around midnight. I reached for the bourbon in my liquor cabinet and quickly put it back. Selena… I needed scotch. A whole bottle. I grabbed a bottle of Double Black and headed to my bedroom. I didn’t even bother pouring it into a glass. I took ridiculously large gulps and searched for something to watch on TV. There was nothing on but late night celebrity news shows, and I couldn’t bear to risk hearing Selena’s name so I turned the TV off. I picked up my phone and called her. She didn’t answer. I decided to leave a message. “Hey Selena, it’s me. Ethan…I…” I hung up. I didn’t even know what to say.

Chapter 25 Selena “Selena Ross! Selena Ross! Have you spoken to Phillip Hartford since the tape was released to the public? Have you reconciled with Matt Sterling? Will you be in the sequel if Phillip Hartford directs it? Where did you hide out for the past eight weeks? Are you still in love with Phillip? Talk to us! Turn around! Selena! Selena!” the paparazzi welcomed me back to my apartment. Instead of entertaining a few of their questions like I normally did, I strolled right past them, not paying them any mind as I walked up to my condo. My security detail kept them at a distance as I unlocked my door and slipped inside. “Back so soon?” my mother looked up from her book. “Yeah,” I walked into my kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. “I almost forgot I couldn’t go for a run in the daytime without paparazzi hounding me. I’m going to drink some coffee and read a book instead.” I opened up my cabinet and saw several pounds of Autumn Wonder coffee organized by blend, flavor intensity, and purchase date. UGH! I pulled them out one by one and hurled them into the trash. I broke all the “I love Autumn Wonder” plates I’d received from their customer loyalty program and poured all their signature creamers and delicious juices down the drain. My mother and I had been in New York for less than a day and I should’ve been happy to be in my familiar element. I should’ve immediately pulled something remarkable from my wardrobe and changed clothes. Instead, I was still wearing a pair of Wal-Mart sweatpants and one of Ethan’s muscle shirts. I vowed to rip off the charm bracelet he’d given me and flush each of the charms down the toilet, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The bracelet was truly a work of art and I wanted to keep it forever— whether I was over him or not. “Is there any particular reason why we had to leave Fayetteville so soon?” my mother put her book down on the coffee table. “No…” “Selena,” she walked over to me and patted my back. “Tell me the truth.” I broke down. “He lied to me, mom! He was lying to me the entire time!” “What are you talking about?” I rushed back into my room and pulled out a copy of the latest Fortune magazine—I’d bought twenty more copies before we left so I could burn them at my leisure. I walked back into the living room and tossed it to my mom. “The guy I was dating? The one you said was cute and charming? He’s the CEO of Autumn Wonder! He was there to spy on your shop and get your recipes. He helped to put you out of business! He did that on purpose!”

She read the article and sighed. “Wow…I never would’ve thought that about him…I guess I can kind of understand it from a business perspective, but Sweet Seasons was going to close eventually anyway Selena. We’d been losing money and customers for months, and we didn’t have the means to operate any faster or any cheaper. Maybe it’s—” “Don’t justify what he did, mom! He’s a liar! A LIAR!” I picked up a couch pillow and yelled obscenities into it. “Why can’t you see that?” “I do see that Selena,” she hugged me and walked back over to her chair, “and I am upset about this entire situation—very upset. If I ever see him again, I have a few choice words I’d like to say and I would definitely let him know how manipulative and wrong he was. I doubt I’ll get that chance though…Closing the shop hurt me a lot, but it happened for a reason. Now, I just want to move on and seek out another source of happiness…” I sniffled and set my pillow down. “I’ll try to move on too…without Ethan Reynolds—Lockwood, whatever his name is.” “You know,” she let out a soft laugh, “even though I’m furious with him at this moment…you did say you wished he was famous. He kind of is, right?” “WHAT! Really mom? “Selena?” Joan set a cup of warm tea in front of me. “We need to go over a lot of things rather quickly.” I nodded my head. “All the interviews this week will be about your film that comes out in January. I’ve specifically told the interviewers that they’re not allowed to ask any personal questions. I told them we’d immediately pull the plug if they even alluded to your personal life. Is there anything else I need to tell them?” “No…” “Great,” she wrote on a notepad. “Mr. Lockwood has requested to be put through to your line over twenty times today. Do you—” “Keep telling him I’m busy.” “Will do. Since you’ve got a charity dinner at eight o’ clock with the Girl Scouts Foundation, I’ve booked a room at the hotel next door so you can change beforehand. We’ll need to rehearse your speech at least five times today and you’ll need to sign a hundred cookie boxes before the event begins. I’ve whittled the publicist candidates down to two, so when do you want to meet with them to decide which—” “Can you pick one for me, Joan? I trust your judgment one hundred percent.” “Not a problem. Do you want to reschedule your interviews? You don’t have to throw yourself into everything so soon. You don’t owe anyone anything.” “No. I’ll be okay. I need to do this.” She frowned. “In that case, I snagged you a few meetings with eight potential endorsers this week. They want you to look over the—” “I’ll do them all. I just want to be kept as busy as possible. Can you make sure that happens?” “Absolutely.”

I smiled through my interview on The View, dodging their not-so-subtle attempts to pry into my personal life. I completed each of my radio and late night talk show interviews with a renewed sense of restraint and class—remembering all the techniques Joan had taught me over the past few weeks: “If an interviewer starts to get too personal, redirect the question towards them,” “If they begin to speak on a subject you’re uncomfortable with, smile, politely change the subject, and speak about whatever project you’re there to promote,” “If you ever get uncomfortable during an interview, look towards Joan and give her ‘the look’ so the interview can come to an end.” I didn’t have to use “the look” all week, but there were times I was really tempted to. To all the interviewers, Phillip Hartford and Matt Sterling were the hot topics in my life, but the only man I could think about was Ethan Lockwood. Each time I climbed back into my SUV, each time I went back home to my apartment, and each time I lay in bed at night, images of our time together in Fayetteville crossed my mind. I cried any time I was alone, and even though I was livid with him, a part of me wished he was there to hold me, to tell me that things were going to be okay.

Chapter 26 Ethan The board meeting dragged on and on—corporate sponsorships, European expansions, employee pension plans—and all I could think about was kissing Selena and hearing her voice. I was erratic. Angry. Hurt. I was also extremely confused as to why these feelings were starting to surface. I’d only known Selena for a little over a month. I’d known Jade—dated her, traveled with her, did everything with her—for two years and I was over her in two weeks. I hadn’t slept in forever, and I was crankier than I’d ever been: My executive assistant slid my daily updates under the door for fear of me taking my pain out on her. The company employees avoided looking at me directly and didn’t bother greeting me in the hallways. “Mr. Lockwood? Mr. Lockwood?” the regional development chair tossed a pen in my direction. “What!” I snapped. “During your extra time in Arkansas were you able to get the official recipe for that cherry bourbon pie?” “No. I was not…” “Oh well. We’ll just stick to what we have then,” he shrugged. “Sweet Seasons is closed anyway, so people won’t have much to compare it to after a while. Next order of business: It’s come to my attention that Starbucks is opening an underwater café in Florida. Anybody have ideas on how we can beat them to it?” I drifted into my own thoughts again, wondering if Selena would return my phone calls, if she would ever speak to me again. “You know,” Barry threw a mint at my face and sat across from me, “I preferred the days when you actually pretended to listen in board meetings. Now you’re not even trying.” “I messed up, Barry. I should’ve told her about Autumn Wonder as soon as I found out Sweet Seasons was her mother’s shop.” “Why don’t you call her?” “I can’t just call her. Her assistant screens all her calls now…Since she’s ‘Selena Ross’ again I guess I don’t matter anymore.” “Whoa! It was Selena Ross?” Barry practically lost it. “The actress? In Fayetteville?” Am I the only one who didn’t know who she was? “Yes,” I felt a tug in my heart. Why do I keep feeling that? And why does it happen every day? “Wow, you are officially the luckiest guy I know…What was your reason for not being upfront with her again?” “I was supposed to be undercover when we first met. I didn’t know she was Selena Ross until I had an intern look her up. We didn’t start dating until after I’d already sent all the pies…And then she told me all about her mom’s bakery but…”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Impossible… “No. I just get tingly feelings when I think about her.” “Tingly feelings?” he rolled his eyes and stood up. “My son says that right before he has to poop. Just keep calling her. And could you please stop moping around every day? The employees are starting to think you’re dying. No one can focus on Autumn Wonder when they think their sexy CEO is dying.” “Wait. Before you go…What happened to us, Barry? How did we get to this point?” “What do you mean?” “We were supposed to be the anti-Starbucks, not bigger than Starbucks. We were supposed to be friends to the local community bakeries, not enemies.” He stretched his hand out. “Okay, write me the check right now. You owe me two million dollars and I’m cashing the check today.” “What? Why?” “When we first started this company, I told you that you were going to say this to me one day. I told you if we ever got bigger than Starbucks, you would regret it. And what did you say to me?” I leaned back. He was right. I remembered the exact day we had this conversation eight years ago. We were arguing about expanding the store past Boston, whether or not we wanted to bring more investors aboard to make it happen. Barry made everyone else leave the room and looked me right in my eye. “I’m your best friend so I’m down with whatever you choose to do, Ethan. But for the record, if Autumn Wonder ever gets as big as Starbucks, if it ever gets bigger than Starbucks, it’s not going to be anything like the original store we had in mind. It’s not going to be community friendly anymore and I’m willing to bet you two million dollars you’re going to regret it at some point.” I remembered laughing at him. “If we get bigger than Starbucks, we’ll both be billionaires! Why would I even care about being community friendly anymore?” I snapped out of my recollection and realized his hand was still outstretched. “You’re serious about me giving you a two million dollar check?” “Did you seriously spend five million dollars of my money to build a beach?” I sat in the board room for hours. I tried to think of ways to make things right with Selena’s mom and Sweet Seasons, how I could right some of the wrongs my company had committed against other bakeries across the country. I went down to the records office, noticing that it was once again empty. I didn’t wait to hear any signs of life. I walked back to the space behind the shelves and saw the same female employee from weeks ago eating another jelly donut and watching another TV show. “Good afternoon,” I said and she immediately spun around. “I swear I get my work done, Mr. Lockwood! You just always catch me at the wrong time! I only use my breaks to catch up on the drama!”

“Relax,” I laughed. “I’m sure you do. I’m going to be spending the next few days down here with you, okay? I’m working on a personal project and I really need your help.” She blushed and dropped the donut to the floor. “I need all the files on every expansion site we’ve ever done—all the ones where we ‘borrowed’ recipes from local businesses. I need all the shop owners’ names and numbers and we need to get in contact with all their former employees. Also, call the intern accounting team down here and tell them they’ll need to work side by side with us as well. We’ll need the information regarding each business’ profit and loss margin before and after we moved into town…Oh, and I’ll pay triple for any hours spent on this particular project.”

Chapter 27 Selena Ryan Gosling ran onto my porch, startling me. He walked over to where I was, where I was painting over our last picture. “You never signed the divorce papers, Melanie. I went down to the courthouse and they said you didn’t sign them. Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked. I didn’t answer him. I kept painting. “Melanie!” he stepped in front of my picture and took the brush from me. “I’m getting married in two hours and you haven’t signed our divorce papers… Since you haven’t signed the papers does that mean you—” “Go away Jake!” I walked off the porch and ran into the rain, towards my Jeep. I unlocked the door to my truck and felt his arm snake around my waist. He spun me around and looked into my eyes. “Melanie, why didn’t you sign the divorce papers?” “Because even though you lied to me and I want you to be miserable for as long as possible, I’m still in love with you,” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “Cut!” the director jumped out of his seat and ran over to me. “Selena, what the hell was that? You’re supposed to say ‘Because I’m still in love with you.’ That’s it. Where is that other stuff coming from?” “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hines. I didn’t realize I was—” “His character never lied to you,” he backed away. “Let’s do the rain kiss again! Quiet on the set! Sweet Tennessee, Scene twenty five, take three!” “Selena,” my mom handed me a box of Kleenex. “How long do you think you’re going to be upset?” “Forever.” “I hope not. That’s not healthy…Your boyfriend called me today to apologize for everything, you know.” He’s not my boyfriend! “Did you tell him to go to hell?” “Not exactly. He and I actually talked for a pretty long time…I told him—” “Mom, I don’t want to hear anything about Ethan Lockwood. Ever. I’ll get over him eventually, okay? I just want to spend time with you,” I wiped my face and sniffled. “I still haven’t taken you shopping so I’ll call my driver now.” “Selena, listen to me. You need to know that Ethan—” “I really don’t want to hear about him, Mom. Please don’t tell me anything about him or his Autumn Wonder life. I don’t want to cry anymore today…” “I understand,” she sighed. “What store are we going to first?”

Joan walked into my trailer and sighed. “I canceled your entire weekend.” “What! Why?” I wiped my face with a Kleenex. “Go take it back! I’m alright! I can do this!” She crossed her arms and gave me her ‘you’re so full of it’ look. “I’m a train-wreck, right?” I bent over and cried. “I don’t think I’ve ever hurt this much!” Even when Phillip dumped me, I was more embarrassed than hurt. And none of the other guys from my past halfway compared to Ethan. I could usually use my anger to get over them, to remind myself why it was best that we didn’t work out. But with Ethan, no matter how many times I reminded myself that he was an ass for not telling me that he was the CEO of Autumn Wonder, my heart wouldn’t let him go. “How about a ‘Girls Night In’? You could do movies and manicures—to kind of get your mind off him, unless you want to finally let him through to your line. He called a record two hundred times today.” I shook my head. “No, I still don’t want to talk to him. And I don’t have any girl friends to invite for a movie night. I—” “Are you trying to say that I’m a guy?” “No! Not at all,” I laughed behind my tears. “I always thought you secretly hated me…” “I’ve never hated you, Selena. I mean, I wasn’t always your biggest fan, but when you’re not whining, attempting to murder birds, or getting on my last nerve, you’re a great person…I think.” I fell onto the floor laughing. “Movie night sounds awesome, Joan. Let’s get groceries!” I suggested the Market Grocery where we’d first met up months ago. I donned a more stylish disguise and when I was ready to checkout, I picked up the latest Us Weekly. My face was on the cover, but this time the headline was “Selena Ross: Left at the Altar, Betrayed by a Married Man, How She’s Plotting her Comeback.”

Chapter 28 Ethan I put down the latest Us Weekly and sighed. It didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know: Selena was shooting the Sweet Tennessee film (in suburban New York ironically), getting over Phillip Hartford’s smear campaign, and signing holiday endorsement deals with eight different companies. There was also a rumor about her dating Ryan Gosling and it made me angry—so angry that I threw a chair out my office window once I finished reading about it. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t real, that it was just another pseudo-relationship for the press, and that she had to be missing me as much as I was missing her…At least I hoped that was the case. I re-watched the first season of her breakout television series, Safe Nation, the series that earned her two Emmys. I remembered her smiling as she told me all about it—how it was her first television gig and how she wasn’t sure if she should even take it because the scripts were “so crazy and weird.” I felt her character ’s emotions in every scene and sympathized with her plight. Selena was a good actress, a damn good actress. I bought all her movies and watched them over and over, pausing on the scenes where she smiled, where she laughed her light and airy laugh. And even though she told me there was no real romance involved on set, I still got jealous whenever she kissed the male lead. One Saturday morning, I received a Google alert about a meet and greet at Barnes & Noble and I immediately flew to New York. I stood in line for five hours, but I wasn’t able to get far enough ahead to see her. I only caught a glimpse of her gray coat as she slipped inside a black SUV. I returned to Boston empty handed, and even more empty-hearted. I tried to convince myself that it was just a phase, that the only reason I felt the way I did was because I was so used to being around her every day. I thought I could get over her just like I got over Jade if I started dating other women. I asked Barry to set me up on a dinner date, and hoped it would be all I needed to further assure myself that I would get over Selena. I arrived at Menton, one of Boston’s premier restaurants, at exactly eight o’ clock. I completely disregarded the women who whispered and winked at me as I walked up to the desk. “I have a reservation under Lockwood,” I said to the host. “Of course. Right this way Mr. Lockwood. Your guest has already arrived.” He led me past the main dining area, into a private room with a candlelit table set for two. He pulled out my chair and handed me a menu. “I thought you said my guest had already arrived?” I saw that the chair across from me was empty. “I assume she’s in the powder room, sir. Your personal waiter will be with you shortly.” I looked over the menu and quickly shut it. The special for tonight was spinach and ricotta gnudi, and

the chef’s dessert was “cherry pie mousse with a bourbon inspired twist.” You can do this…You can do this…Don’t think about Selena… A woman in a blue sequined dress entered the room and smiled warmly at me. I stood up and pulled out her chair. “Good evening, Irene. I’m Ethan,” I sat back down. “Nice to meet you, Ethan,” she blushed. She was really pretty. Her shiny blonde hair was swept into an elegant side bun and her eyes were bright green. “So, Barry tells me you’re in business?” I nodded. “Yes, the beverage business. How about yourself?” “Well, I write screenplays for indie films here or there. I just graduated from Harvard Law not too long ago so—” She was also really smart. She had a law degree, read all the American and British classics by the time she was eighteen, had traveled to every continent at least once, and kept up with world events. She had an amazing personality—bubbly, but not too bubbly, and was completely charming and charismatic. “Have you seen any good movies recently?” she asked. “Umm…Not really. The last one I saw was a romantic comedy—something about a wedding show and two best friends realizing they were destined to be married and—” “Oh yes! The Altar Games! I loved that movie! I wished they’d picked a different actress for the female character though,” she frowned. “She wasn’t very convincing.” Selena said the exact same thing… “Really? Who would you have picked?” “Selena Ross!” she smiled. “She’s my favorite! She’s amazing in everything! It’s crazy how talented she is, you know? And she’s so beautiful!” I can’t do this… I took a sip of my wine and nodded. “My dream is to write a screenplay that someone like her would want to be in. I don’t mean to come off like a crazy fan, but I’m in complete awe of her talent. I really love her.” I sighed. “I love her too…” I woke up late in the afternoon and heard seagulls yapping about. I walked out to the deck and spotted my dad preparing bait. “Afternoon, Dad.” “Afternoon son! It’s about time you woke up! Just so you know, my next wedding will be on the last Sunday of January. I expect you to be there.” “What! Weren’t you just telling me about your divorce two months ago? Is that even finalized?” “Money finalizes everything,” he handed me a fishing pole. “I told everyone else it’s an exclusive dinner party to make sure they actually show up. I think people are tired of me getting married.”

You think? I cast my line out into the sea and looked him right in the eye, “Did you ever love my mom?” “Love is for fools, son.” “Why did you marry her then? And why do you keep getting married?” “I had my reasons,” he looked out over the ocean. “We were both so young, so happy when we first got married. They say the first wife is usually the best wife…I thought she and I were going to be compatible forever but people change.” “She changed? How?” “Everyone changes. She wanted more children, more fulfillments in life and she told me I wasn’t making her happy anymore. She said she was willing to work on our marriage but…I was too stubborn. I wanted things to say the same. I didn’t think we had any problems.” “You never loved any of your wives?” He groaned. “No, son. I didn’t. I married who fit my checklist and whenever it stopped working out, I let her go. Life’s too short to deal with problems. I simply eradicate them once they pop up and make sure I have one hell of a pre-nup.” No wonder I’m so messed up… I secured my pole against the railing and sat on the ledge. “You believe in that love stuff now?” my dad looked at me and laughed. “You believe in one soulmate for the rest of your life?” “I didn’t used to…” His eyes widened and he walked over to me, patting me on my back. “Look, I’m a cynic. Of course I loved your mother, very much. As a matter of fact, if I was ever in love with anyone, it was her…To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to get that feeling back for decades so…My advice to you is to never let it go once you find it. Don’t ever let that person get away from you, or else you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting that you did…” “That might be the smartest thing you’ve said to me in my entire life.” He laughed. “Are we going to play Oprah all afternoon or are we going to catch some fish?” I lay in bed and called Selena again. Joan answered as usual. “Good morning, Mr. Lockwood. Miss Ross is currently—” “Joan, I know she’s not busy because it’s five in the morning and she doesn’t wake up a second before six.” I heard her sigh. “Now, you don’t have to bother telling me she’ll call me back because we both know she won’t. I’m calling because I really need to see her again, to apologize for everything I did, and I would really appreciate your help….Please tell me where she is…”

Chapter 29 Selena I took a seat near the back of Matt and Melody’s wedding, right next to an older woman who was dressed in all pink. Behind the sparkling silver altar was an immense lake where hundreds of water lilies floated amongst white swans. Gorgeous glass light jars hung from the surrounding hickory trees, and tall red candles flickered brightly alongside the aisles of white wooden chairs. I sat and listened as a trio of cellists played a beautiful harmony, as Matt and Melody’s parents said a prayer, and as the pastor instructed the audience to stand for the bride’s entrance. Seconds later, Melody walked down the aisle in a shimmering white dress that drew whispers of appreciation from the crowd. The one shoulder gown was accented with embellished lace and Swarovski crystals. It tightly grabbed her waist and flared out into a skirt that was so airy and light it looked as if it barely touched the ground. Beneath her short veil, her glossy red hair was swept into a bun of loose curls; a few stray ringlets fell right beneath her shoulders. She’s so pretty… She and Matt never took their eyes off one another. They looked at each other as if they were the only two people in the world. As they read their vows, I dabbed my eyes with Kleenex. He called her “the key that finally opened the door to his happiness.” She called him her best friend, her undeniable soul-mate, and “regardless of what [her] reviews said about [his] films,” the best actor in the world. “If there is anyone here today who feels that these two should not be wedded in holy matrimony,” the pastor looked out into the audience, “please speak now or forever hold your peace.” Melody closed her eyes and slowly shook, as if she were anticipating an interruption. She bit her lip and looked down at the ground. “I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride,” the pastor smiled. In one swoop, Matt pulled Melody into his arms and kissed her passionately—caressing her face, looking into her eyes, whispering several words that we in the audience couldn’t hear. Once he let her go—which took quite a while, a loud applause rose, and the small crowd stood to its feet. Matt scooped Melody into his arms and carried her down the aisle as the guests threw rice at them. “Cocktail hour is in the lake house!” a woman, I assumed Melody’s mother, shouted. I followed everyone towards a white wooden building and let myself in. There was candy everywhere —Skittle inspired cocktails, chocolate fountains, wines paired with caramel coated pretzels, and heart shaped hors d’oeuvres. I grabbed a glass of chocolate mousse and sat by the wall of windows, wondering when the reception

would begin. I wanted to drink myself into oblivion. A couple of guests nodded their heads at me from time to time, but everyone was too involved in their own conversations to bother talking to me. In my loneliness, I couldn’t help but to think of Ethan. If he had come with me I would’ve had someone to talk to, someone to sit next to at dinner. Then again, I told myself I should be glad he didn’t show up. I hoped he’d forgotten all about the wedding and moved on to someone else. Since he was a billionaire I figured he could get any woman he wanted, someone who wouldn’t mind putting up with his lies as long as he showed her the world and gave her free coffee every day. I looked up at one of the fountains and saw a handsome man wink at me. I decided it was time for me to move on to someone else too. I downed my chocolate mousse and walked over to him. “Good evening. I’m Selena.” “I know exactly who you are,” he took a sip of his wine. “You’re Selena Ross. I’m John.” “Nice to meet you, John…How do you know Matt and Melody?” “I worked with Melody at The New York Appeal,” he smiled. “We were all pretty bummed when she quit on us… So, you and Matt Sterling are still friends?” “Something like that. What do you do for a liv—” “But you cheated on him with that older guy!” “I—” “How could you do that to Matt? And how does Melody feel about you?” “I’m—” “Do they even know you’re here? Is that why you sat in the back? Are you planning to get revenge on Matt by crashing his wedding? Are you—” I felt two familiar arms wrapping around my waist. “I don’t think she’s obligated to answer any of your rude and inappropriate questions. I suggest you stay away from her for the rest of the night or I’ll keep you away. Your choice.” John turned red and scuttled across the room. I wriggled out of Ethan’s embrace and turned around. “I hope you don’t expect me to say thank you.” “I would never…Good evening, Selena.” I didn’t say anything back. I just looked him up and down. He was still as gorgeous as the first day I met him; still devastatingly sexy and able to make me melt with that ridiculous smile. I walked away from him and sat in the back of the room. Half of me wanted him to follow me, but the other half wanted him to take pride in saving me from John’s stupid questions and go away. Far away. He sat beside me and cleared his throat. “How have you been?” “I’ve been wonderful, and yourself?” I didn’t even try to sound convincing. “Not great, to be honest… I’ve missed you.” “I wish I could say the same.” “So you meant that you never wanted to see me again?”

“Yes. Go away.” “Why Selena?” he lifted my hand and kissed it. “Ethan, you lied to me…And you put my mom’s bakery out of business.” “I’m sorry for lying to you. That was wrong and I’m very sorry…And I’m extremely sorry about Sweet Seasons. I promise it wasn’t personal.” “It wasn’t personal? Bullshit! Twenty two people lost their jobs, Ethan! You don’t think that qualifies as personal? As soon as you found out it was my mother ’s shop you should’ve said something to me!” “I’m sorry. I—” “Are you really?” I felt myself getting angry all over again. “Or are you just saying that to get something else you want? Is there another pie recipe your company is after? Give me the address and I’ll mail you the whole book.” “Ladies and gentlemen, the reception will begin in ten minutes!” a man tapped a spoon to his glass. “Please follow me!” I snatched my hand away from Ethan and made a dash for the reception. I didn’t look back. I walked inside the enormous tent and gasped: Bright white lights were strung all across the top of the black backdrop; they looked like they were twinkling stars. Each table was set with lavish white centerpieces—four foot crystal vases, freshly cut roses, and floating lilies. There were crystallized name plates in front of every seat, and a silver customized menu that was in the shape of an Old Hollywood movie ticket. I found my name plate on the table and tucked the one in that read “Selena Ross’s guest” into my purse. I saw Ethan walking into the tent, looking around, and I tried my best to hide behind the woman on the other side of me. “You look stunning tonight,” he ran his fingertips across my bare back before sitting down. “I wanted to sit next to you at the ceremony, but I didn’t want you to get angry and cause a scene…” How convenient… He seemed to be saying more words but I was tuning him out. I focused on the large screens onstage that looped numerous pictures of Matt and Melody enjoying their newfound “couple-dom”: They were lounging aboard a yacht, swimming in the ocean, standing atop the Eiffel Tower, and laughing inside an empty movie theater. They definitely look like they belong together… “I haven’t been the same since you left,” Ethan grabbed my hand. “Could you please talk to me? I know you can hear me, Selena. Stop ignoring me.” I used my other hand to grab a piece of bread from the center basket. I placed it on my plate and rolled it around in butter. “Selena, I’m tremendously sorry for not telling you as soon as I found out,” he sighed. “I should have told you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. But even if I had, I’m not sure that would’ve changed Sweet Seasons’ closing.” I yanked my hand away from him, but he pulled it back. “I honestly didn’t want to lose you. I was scared that if I told you, you wouldn’t want to date me anymore.”

“And you’re absolutely right! I would have dumped you on the spot! Why would I have continued dating the man who—” I felt his lips on mine, his hands around my hips, him pulling me closer and closer to him. I tried not to kiss him back, but I couldn’t help it. I missed him more than I cared to admit. I opened my eyes and saw that his were still closed so I abruptly broke away, catching him completely off guard. “I said I was sorry…” he whispered. “Well, I don’t forgive you and I never will. I think you should go now.” “Really?” “Yes. You’re an awful person and I hate your guts. I think we should remain apart and that—” He kissed me again and I couldn’t remember the rest of what I was going to say. “I don’t care how great of a kisser you are,” I hissed. “You’re still an asshole.” He smiled at me but I turned away from him. We watched as Matt and Melody danced their first dance as a married couple, as he serenaded her with a Frank Sinatra song. We ate our dinner in silence—conversing with the people who sat on either side of us, purposely making sure we didn’t say anything to one another. When the DJ announced that it was time for everyone to hit the dance floor, Ethan stood up and reached for my hand. “I need to talk to you some place quiet.” “Well, I don’t feel like talking to you. Ever. I’m going to go dance. Who knows, maybe I can find someone to join me back at my hotel later tonight. Maybe I can experience making love with someone else. Wouldn’t that be awesome?” He turned red and narrowed his eyes at me. “Selena, don’t—” I practically jumped up from the table and ran to the floor. I rushed up to Matt and tapped him on the shoulder. “Selena?” “Congratulations on finding real love Matt,” I smiled. “You and Melody are gorgeous together. I wish you both the best.” He took his arm from around her waist and hugged me. “Thank you very much. I’m glad you came…Wait, you didn’t bring any paparazzi along did you? Joan did tell you that this was a private event right? When did you tell E News?” “Stop that Matt,” Melody shook her head at him and smiled at me. “Thank you for coming, Selena.” Matt kissed her again and gushed about their upcoming honeymoon in the south of France and their house hunting plans for the New York suburbs. We chatted for a few more minutes before they both hugged me and turned their attention back towards one another, walking off to greet the rest of the wedding guests. I danced to every single song, accepting offers to dance from whoever asked—swaying my hips extremely suggestively, knowing that Ethan was watching my every move. I drank glass after glass of wine and was about to dance with a hot guy in a gray tuxedo, but I felt Ethan grab me from behind. “Are you trying to make me jealous Selena?” he whispered into my ear. “If so, it definitely worked, but I can’t deal with it anymore…I need to talk to you right now.” “Too bad,” I shrugged and started to walk away, but he pulled me into his arms and looked directly

into my eyes. “Please come with me right now. It’s important.” “Ethan, you and I are over. Forever. Accept it. I don’t like you anymore and I just want you to leave me alone.” “You mean that?” he looked hurt. “Yes.” “Okay...I’m sorry I ever bothered you tonight,” he let me go and walked away. I watched him exit the tent and thought I would feel liberated, happy to know that I’d hurt him like he’d hurt me, but I only felt heartbroken. I sat back down at my table and watched everyone else enjoy the rest of the party—without him around, there wasn’t any point in dancing. “Selena,” Joan shook my shoulder. “The reception has been over for like an hour…We’re the last ones here.” I looked around and saw that every chair in the tent was empty and the catering staff was putting decorations away. “Sorry, I guess I zoned out for quite a bit…It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it? They looked so happy together…Your toast at dinner was really thoughtful too. I didn’t know you were his assistant before he became famous. He’s come a long way from those Lifetime Channel movies…” “He has,” she smiled. “And thank you for the toast compliment. By the way, I meant to tell you earlier today, but next week will be my last week working with you.” What! “Why? Did I make you mad? Did I disrespect you somehow? I swear, I didn’t mean to do anything—” “It’s not that at all. I was offered a job today from West Inc. in New York so I’m going to take it. It’s time for me to pursue my own dreams you know?” “Well, good for you Joan,” I hugged her. “I’m grateful that you were my assistant and publicist for the little time I had you. You were more than awesome…Does this mean I have to find someone else now? And that we can’t be friends anymore?” “First of all, I already replaced myself,” she laughed. “Her name’s Heather and she’s my protégé. She’s been briefed on all your likes and dislikes and she’s signed off on the replacement clause on my dissolution of contract. She’ll meet you at the airport when you leave for California next Thursday. Second of all, this means we’ll be even better friends because our careers won’t be intertwined and I won’t want to strangle you every other day. I still expect you to be at my wedding in a couple months.” “I’m totally there…Um, do you know where Ethan is? Do you think he went back to Boston tonight?” “I have no idea…” “Do you think we would’ve worked out Joan?” I tried not to cry. “Do you think we would’ve made it if the situation was different?” “Probably. He seemed like someone who could deal with your personality, and he made you more likeable,” she laughed.

“I told him I meant what I said about never seeing him again and he actually left! He didn’t even put up a fight! After we watched all those romantic comedies where the guy has to go after the girl until she listens, he still doesn’t get it! He doesn’t really care about me! He didn’t even try to get me to change my mind!” She sighed. “Why does this conversation sound so familiar? Oh yeah…right…Um look, these things usually have a way of working themselves out, Selena. Don’t stress about it.” “Don’t stress about it? Don’t stress about it! That’s your advice Joan? I paid you double so you could tell me ‘Don’t stress about it’?” “Sounds about right,” she shrugged. “What do you want me to say? Give me two hours and I’ll get him here and tie him up so you can tell him how you really feel?” “Can you do that?” She hugged me. “Good night Selena. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Our flight is at four so be ready by two. I know it sounds simple, but it’s true…Don’t stress about—” “Pardon the interruption Joan,” Ethan appeared from out of nowhere, looking unusually disheveled. “Can I talk to Selena in private for a few minutes?” Joan smiled at me and walked away. “I don’t know why you came back Ethan,” I sighed. “I said I don’t want you anymore.” “I’m well aware of what you said, but I need to get something off my chest before you go back to New York.” he reached for my hand, but I smacked it away. “Fair enough Selena. Would you at least follow me then?” You know you want to… I took my time standing up and followed him to the other side of the wedding lake, underneath the branches of a massive pecan tree. He sat down on a bench and motioned for me to sit next to him, but I sat on the other end. “That’s not happening,” he reached over and pulled me into his lap. He didn’t say anything for a long time; he just held me close and sighed. A few swans waded over to our side of the lake, watching us—I was sure they were wondering if he was ever going to speak to me. “I’ve missed you so much Selena,” he planted kisses along my shoulders. “I’ve been reading the celebrity news section and watching the E channel every day. I’ve been trying to find out where you were for a long time. I—” “For what?” I tried my best to resist his touch. “Did you want to tell me you’re taking my mom’s house away from her too? Are you in the real estate business now?” “Not exactly,” he grabbed me by my waist and moved me so I was lying flat against his lap. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…I watched each and every one of your films, interviews, and TV episodes so I could see your face every day.” “Well, if I were you I wouldn’t get too attached to—” “Shut up Selena, I’m talking,” he bent down and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you…” He ran his fingers through my hair and caressed my face, never taking his eyes off mine.

Keep scowling at him…Pretend that kiss never happened… “I take it your mother didn’t tell you what I did with Sweet Seasons?” “I didn’t need her to tell me that you put it out of business, Ethan. That was already pretty clear before I left Fayetteville.” I knew that wasn’t what he was talking about. I knew that he’d paid all the former employees of Sweet Seasons ten years worth of salary with a hundred thousand dollar bonus, and that he’d given my mother twenty million dollars in exchange for using her recipes and the Sweet Seasons name on a special blend of Autumn Wonder coffee. But I didn’t think that erased what he did. I was still upset with my mom for accepting his money. “So you do know?” he smiled. How does he do that? “Yes…” “Well, good…Should I assume you signed that million-dollar endorsement deal with Starbucks out of spite?” Absolutely. “No, I did it because they happen to be my favorite coffee shop.” “Yes, of course they are,” he rolled his eyes. “How long are you staying in Memphis?” “Just tonight.” “Hmmm. Mind if I join you in your suite? I didn’t make any hotel reservations for myself.” “If I said yes, would you be upset?” “Very,” his eyes hardened. “No…I don’t mind. You can sleep on the couch.” He laughed. “Why thank you…Now, close your eyes,” he whispered. “Why?” “Why? Why? Why can’t you just do things when I tell you to do them? Do you have to question everything? All the time? I swear you are so…” he sighed. “I love you Selena.” My heart stopped. “I—” “Please close your eyes,” he kissed my forehead and waited. “Selena Ross,” his voice was wavering, “for the record, you really are the most frustrating woman I have ever met. You always have to have the last word, you are completely incapable of compromise, and you probably thought you were the only one with hurt feelings when you left Fayetteville.” That last one isn’t true… “The truth is, I was hurt too, but mainly because I hurt you and I don’t ever want to do that again. If you take me back, I promise I won’t ever do it again. You mean a lot to me and I don’t think I can go another day without waking up next to you…Two months ago you asked me if I’d ever fallen in love before and I said no because I didn’t even know what love was…But after being without you for so long, I want you to know that that answer doesn’t apply any more. I’m in love with you Selena, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, your stubbornness, and your ridiculous Starbucks contract.” I gasped as he bent down and kissed me, as he whispered that I should keep my eyes closed.

I felt something cool against my chest, then a kiss on my left hand. “You can open your eyes now.” I looked down at my chest and saw a Harry Winston diamond ring—at least six carats, sparkling against the night. “This isn’t a promise ring,” he looked into my eyes. “I think you’ve received enough of those during your lifetime...Will you marry me?” “What! You put my mom’s bakery out of business Ethan!” I sat up and slipped the ring onto my finger. “That wasn’t that long ago! Do you not remember that?” Perfect fit… “Yes, but it wasn’t personal and if I could change it I would. I also think I’ve made the best amends possible and I hope you’ll forgive me one day. I completely restructured how we do our expansion sites so something like this won’t ever happen again.” “And you didn’t admit that you were the CEO of Autumn Wonder while we were dating. And you had all that time to tell me!” I held my hand in front of my face and saw how stunning the ring was: “Mrs. Lockwood” was etched in cursive onto one side of the band, and “I love you” was etched on the other. “Correct.” “And we haven’t known each other for that long. You really expect me to marry you? You think I would want to spend the rest of my life with you?” “Yes,” he smiled. “Well I don’t,” I folded my arms. “And I’m going to keep this ring just like I kept that charm bracelet because it’s absolutely beautiful and I know you wouldn’t care if I did. I’m sure a billionaire like you can afford a lot more of these so—” “So will you marry me, Selena?” he pulled me close enough to kiss me. “No…” I shook my head. “I can’t….Unless you ask me one more time—in the movies the guy always asks three times,” I felt a tear fall down my face. He smiled and got down on one knee, “Selena Ross—I mean, Beauregard…Most stubborn and frustrating woman I have ever met, I am in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” “I’m in love with you too Ethan…Yes!” I leaned in to kiss him but he moved away. “I can’t kiss you yet,” he pulled me to my feet. “The setting’s not right.” “WHAT!” “You wouldn’t believe that I really cared about you, that I really loved you if I kissed you right now,” he smirked. “What the hell are you talking about Ethan? I do believe you! Now kiss me damnit! Kiss me right now!” “Nope,” he walked over to another group of trees, tugging my hand, ignoring my profanity-laced rant. “Ethan, I would really like a goddamn kiss. There. I finally begged for one. Happy? Now kiss me please…” He stopped walking and pulled me into his arms. He pulled a small black box out of his hand and

pressed a button. “I think this is what’ll make you believe me,” he smiled and I felt what seemed like droplets of rain falling over us. I looked up and saw what appeared to be one of the multi-million dollar rain machines we used on movie sets. “You’ve got to be kidding me...” I shook my head. “Really Ethan? Why would you—” “Someone once told me that if there’s no rain, it’s not meant to be and the promises the guy made to the girl don’t mean anything. I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression,” he held my face in his hands and kissed me like it was last time we’d ever see each other. I pulled away to catch my breath, “Someone once told me that the kiss in the rain was a horrible cliché.” “Oh it still is,” he laughed and pulled me back. “But my fiancée loves it so it doesn’t matter.”

Final Take: A Romantic Comedy (The Jilted Bride Series) Chapter 1 Joan I stood underneath the hot water of my shower and cried. I was humiliated. Embarrassed. As much as I tried to forget being left at the altar weeks ago, the fact faced me everywhere I went. I went out to a bar last night, in an attempt to pick up a hot guy and have a one night stand. I wanted to start my single life off with a bang like the scorned women do in the movies, but I realized I wasn’t in my twenties anymore, and I wasn’t anything like those airheads in the romantic comedies. The guy I left with was strikingly sexy—copper colored hair, perfectly chiseled jawline, light hazel eyes—but once we were inside my apartment, I broke down and cried. Then I told him to leave. I was still reliving my wedding day like it was yesterday, and I wanted to spend the rest of the night alone. Two weeks ago, I was dressed in my custom David Tutera wedding gown, taking long sips of wine and looking out over the vast vineyard’s terrace. Matt stepped out on the balcony and handed me my veil. “Am I doing this whole maid of honor thing right? Are you supposed to put this on now or later?” I tried not to laugh. Matt was a great “maid” of honor, a little too great. He’d gone above and beyond for everything—refusing to let me or my fiancée pay for any aspect of the wedding. “You’re doing great, Matt. How’s Melody? Is she here yet?” “Yeah, she’s in the chapel…Don’t say anything, but she’s six weeks pregnant and she thinks I don’t have a clue,” he laughed. “I think she’s scared to tell me.” “Awww! Congratulations! I won’t say a word.” “Your fiancée is so hot, Joan!” Selena burst into the room with several bags. “I saw the big picture of you two downstairs. His eyes are like pure green! Like, really dreamy green! You could get lost in those things! Do you two—” “Aren’t you engaged?” Matt rolled his eyes. “I could’ve sworn you were in the middle of planning a wedding.” “So! I can’t say when another man is sexy? It’s not like I’m trying to date the guy! Anyway, I was talking to Joan! Here are all the rose petals for the guests. I’ll be right back,” she placed the bags on the floor and left as quickly as she came in. I shook my head and took another sip of wine. Today was going to be perfect. I was finally marrying the love of my life, Lance Whitman. We’d been together since my sophomore year of college, and after years of finding our separate places in the world—he went political, I went entertainment—we were finally coming together.

Forever. “Are you ready Joan?” Matt held the door open. “I think we need to make our way to the chapel now…Joan? Joan?” I wasn’t sure how I made it to the chapel, but the next thing I knew I was walking down the aisle towards Lance, blushing like it was the first day we met. He looked as nervous as I was. He couldn’t stop fidgeting and running his hands through his light blonde hair. I smiled through the pastor ’s words of wisdom, through Alicia Key’s vocal performance, and through our parents’ prayers. “The couple has elected to write their own vows,” the pastor spoke.“The bride would like to read hers first.” Matt handed me my speech and I tried not to cry as I read. “Lance, I knew you were the one the first day we met at Yale. You were the only guy who actually enjoyed watching Jeopardy with me, the only guy who helped me to pull weekly all-nighters to get ahead, and the only guy who seemed to love the world of politics as much as I did. When our careers took off and we traveled across the world for weeks at a time due to our demanding jobs, I want you to know that you were always on my mind. Always. I’ve never gone a day without thinking about you, and I’m happy to say that after today, I won’t go another day without being with you. You are the only man I’ve ever loved and the only man I want to be with for the rest of my life. I love you.” The audience clapped, and Matt handed me a Kleenex to dab my eyes. “And now, the groom will recite his vows,” the pastor looked towards Lance. “Joan,” Lance paused. “I’m so happy that I can say these words in front of our family and friends. I wrote my vows months ago and I was planning to read them, but I realized that since you’re the better writer, I needed to re-write them four weeks ago.” The audience laughed. He looked at the paper. “I wasn’t planning to show up today, but I felt that I owed that to you,” he sighed and the audience fell silent. “I want you to know that I never cheated on you and that I do love you, but I cannot be with you. I cannot be with someone who continues to put her career over the socalled love of her life. After you stopped working with Matt Sterling, you said you were done being a personal assistant, that you wanted to focus on building a life with me…but you went down to Fayetteville, Arkansas for over a month to work with Selena Ross because you wanted a challenge.” Stay calm. Stay cool. Do not hit him….Do not harm him… “You never even asked me if it was okay,” he kept reading. “You just told me you were leaving and that you would be back, and that I could come visit you anytime. You even told me that you would decline the position with Jonathan West’s office once you got back from the South, but they called the apartment last week to ask when you would be available to start. And I know you didn’t forget to tell them that you were declining the position. You never forget anything…except me. I don’t want to marry someone like that, Joan. You’re not the woman for me, and I’m not the man for you…” His hurtful speech went on and on. I heard phrases here or there—“I need someone to be at home waiting for me,” “I need someone who wants to be with me more than her career”—but I was too focused on staying calm to give him my undivided attention. I blinked a few times, replayed The Art of Conflict Resolution in my mind—the parts about taking

deep breaths and walking away. I replayed the numerous conflict solution meetings I’d had with Matt and Selena—how to look calm and collected when the paparazzi was hounding them, how to act like an interviewer ’s question didn’t bother the shit out of them, but it was to no avail. Motherfucker… I lunged towards Lance and tackled him to the ground. I punched him directly in the face, beating away at his jaw until I heard it crack, but I suddenly felt Matt tugging me away from him, picking me up and carrying me out of the room as I cried. “You are an asshole, Lance! An asshole! You don’t remember me putting my life on hold for you first? I always put my life on hold for you! All the time! How could you do this to me? On our wedding day!” Matt set me down on a chaise and locked the door to my dressing room. “I didn’t know you had all that in you, Joan. I think you broke his nose…” he sat down across from me. “What do you need me to do?” “Admit that this is your fault,” I cried. “This is all your fault!” “My fault? How?” I was crying uncontrollably. “You and your jilted brides…I should’ve seen this coming…I should have spotted this as soon as you left Selena at the altar! Actually, you should’ve waited until I was married first! My wedding was already set! You just wanted to get married before me!” “Joan, your fiancée is a douchebag. I didn’t have anything to do with that.” I managed to laugh through my tears. “I know that…It just makes me feel better when I have someone to blame.” “I’m really sorry this happened to you,” he held my hand. “You didn’t deserve it at all…” “Do you know the only reason I became a personal assistant to celebrities was because Lance didn’t want me to be an FBI field agent or go into politics?” “No, I didn’t know that…” “Well, it’s true,” I cried. “After college, I had the highest scores in my FBI recruitment class … Someone has yet to beat my score and that was over a decade ago. I was going to accept their offer, but Lance said that since he was already in the CIA it would be a conflict of interest for us…” “Well, why couldn’t you do politics?” “CIA directors don’t date or marry politicians… That just doesn’t happen…I was supposed to be married and have kids before I turned thirty five…Looks like that won’t be happening, huh?” “You’re thirty four?” he handed me a box of Kleenex. “Really?” “How old did you think I was, Matt?” “Not that old—I mean, that’s not old but…I mean—” “What are you trying to say Matt?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re going to be thirty in three years!” He laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that Joan. I meant that you don’t look thirty four—in a really good way…I guess I never paid attention to how many candles were on your birthday cake throughout the years.” Because I put twenty five on every cake…

Matt entertained me for the next hour or so—I couldn’t really grasp how much time had passed, and by the end of the day, I’d been comforted by my parents, Selena and Ethan, and the few wedding guests I’d invited. Even Lance’s parents hugged me and told me they were sorry—they said they didn’t have any idea that he was planning on leaving me at the wedding. I held my tears inside for the rest of the day. I wasn’t much of a crier, and I didn’t want people thinking that I wouldn’t be okay. I turned my shower off and sighed. I told myself that my new job was exactly what I needed to get over Lance. It’s 7:30…fifteen minutes to dress, five minutes to eat, twenty minutes to read the morning paper…. I put on my favorite black pencil skirt and red silk blouse. I slid into the matching blazer and applied light make up to my face. I walked into my living room and froze. The sexy one night stand guy was sitting on my couch, watching me. Smiling at me. “The purpose of a one night stand is to have sex, right?” he smirked. “I told you to leave hours ago,” I rolled my eyes. “Why are you still here?” “So…We’re not going to have sex?” “No. We are not going to have sex. Get out.” Four minutes to eat…Get to the kitchen… “You’re dressed really nice,” he stood up and followed me into the kitchen. “Where are you going?” “To work. My first day is today and—I don’t know you. I don’t have to talk to you. Get out. Now.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he took a step back. “I came here with a drunken version of you last night, helped you to your door, cleaned up your vomit, helped you get undressed—” “You saw me naked?” “Barely, because you told me to get away from you and sleep on the couch…I feel cheated. Wouldn’t you feel cheated if you were me?” My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this idiot. I looked him over and realized that if I hadn’t been so distraught about being left at the altar weeks ago, or if he seemed like he had an IQ higher than a squirrel, I would’ve found him insanely attractive. He looks even better today than he did last night…One and a half minutes to eat breakfast…Granola bar it is… “Don’t you have a job to go to?” I scoffed. “It is Monday.” “No, not really…I haven’t worked in a long time, so I wouldn’t consider it a job per se, it’s more like —” “Oh my god, you’re a bum!” I remembered why I never did one-night stands. “Look, there’s breakfast stuff in the fridge—” “You’re not going to stay in and eat with me?” “Did you not hear a word of what I just said?” “Not really. I was picturing you naked,” he tilted his head to the side. “What were you saying again?”

Why are the hot ones always so DUMB? I rolled my eyes. “I am going to work because I have a job and that’s what adult people do. Feel free to eat breakfast and then get out. If I come back this afternoon and you’re still here, I’m calling the cops and I’ll be filing a restraining order. Goodbye, whatever your name is.” “Joan Hart?” the receptionist said my name. “Mr. West will see you now.” I grabbed my briefcase and walked through the doors. There was another receptionist to my left and she asked to take my coat. “You can have a seat Ms. Hart,” she said. “I have to wait for him again?” “Yes Miss Hart, he’s always running late unfortunately. He’s a really busy man.” “I understand.” If he’s not here in fifteen minutes I’m leaving…Other firms would love to have me and they would respect my time... I twiddled my thumbs for what felt like forever. I looked at my watch and realized forty minutes had gone by. It really wasn’t my day. I wanted to get up and leave, but I knew I’d only be cheating myself. West Inc. was the largest commercial real estate company in New York and working for them would do wonders for my career. “Ms. Hart?” the receptionist beckoned me over to the desk. “You can go in now. He’s finishing up his conference call.” I walked up to the sleek glass doors that were on the other side of the room and pushed them open. Mr. West was still talking on the phone, so I took a seat in front of his desk and looked around his ridiculously large office. Bernini. Picasso. Van Gogh. How typical. There were Cuban cigars on his desk, a large calendar with nothing written in the spaces, and a large vase—a Mickey Mouse vase, full of orange juice. What type of billionaire CEO drinks orange juice from a Disney vase? I looked at my watch and tried not to roll my eyes. I was starting to reconsider that offer from Donald Trump. He never made me wait. “Okay Tripp,” Mr. West sighed. “I have a meeting with my new chief of damage control. Okay. I’ll call you Thursday.” I heard his phone make a beeping sound and then his chair whirled around. I could literally feel the blood draining from my face as soon as I lay eyes on him. “Well, we meet again. And a mere two hours later,” he smiled. “If I had known I was your boss, I would’ve insisted that we stay in for breakfast. Orange juice?”