Chapter 19

CHAPTER19

SCARLETT

A few days after the family dinner, unbelievably enough, I’m preparing for my trip to Los Angeles. It’s all I’ve been doing since Tate dropped that little bomb at the dinner table. You’d think I were being whisked away to a foreign country far, far away instead of across the country, considering how my mother is reacting to the whole thing.

“I can’t believe you’re going to Los Angeles instead of on your trip to Europe.” The disappointment in Mom’s voice is obvious, and I guess that’s her biggest issue—me switching up my plans and running off to LA with a guy instead of traveling around Europe with my best friend.

We’re currently in my bedroom, and I’m already packing my suitcase, though I have no idea what to bring. Rachel is coming over later to help me with everything, and I know she’ll figure out exactly what I need to bring. She’s good at that sort of thing.

“You make it sound like Los Angeles is a terrible place,” I say as I go through a stack of shorts, most of them new, the tags still attached. “Should I bring mostly shorts or dresses?”

“Dresses,” Mom says absently as she settles on the edge of the bed, right next to my open suitcase. There are already a lot of clothes inside, and I’m not even close to finishing. Though I guess it doesn’t matter how many suitcases I take, because we’re flying there in a plane Irresistible hired for us. “I’m going to miss you so much when you’re gone, darling. It’ll be so quiet here without you.”

“Mom.” I glance up from my pile of clothes, noting the disappointment and worry on her expressive face. “I won’t be gone that long. Only a couple of weeks.”

“It does not take a couple of weeks to make an album, and you know it, Scarlett. He’s going to keep you there for himself for months.”

Months?

I swallow hard, thinking of spending months with Tate in Los Angeles while he’s always working and I’m stuck in a city I’m totally unfamiliar with. I’m only supposed to be maintaining this facade for six weeks. That’s it. I won’t stay a minute longer than what I signed up for.

A deal is a deal.

“I’m surprised you’re even letting me go with him,” I admit.

“Why? You’re an adult. You can handle yourself.” Mom shrugs, reaching for my stack of shorts so she can go through them herself. Her nose is wrinkling already, and she’s only contemplated two pairs. “We trust you to know what to do and make the right decisions.”

I’m still amazed they’d let me just go across the country with a man they barely know. After all, I only just graduated high school. I might’ve turned eighteen, but I don’t feel like an adult. Though my feelings in regard to Tate don’t feel kid-like, that’s for sure. “Just so you know, Tate did promise me my own bedroom at the house we’re staying at.”

The record label arranged a house for us to reside in while Tate records the album. There’s even a small studio on the property behind the main house, which Tate was extremely excited about. When he explained it all to me last night on the phone, his voice practically vibrated with excitement.

This record deal and this trip are a game changer for him. He doesn’t want anything to mess it up, and truthfully? I refuse to be the reason anything gets messed up. We signed a contract, and I’m legally bound to him for the next six weeks, and I will do my utmost to perform this so-called job as well as I can.

“Oh. So you two won’t share a bedroom?” Mom holds up her hand before I can utter a word. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t need all the gory details.”

Even if Tate and I were actually together and doing whatever it is she’s trying not to think of us doing, I wouldn’t share a single gory detail with her.

How embarrassing.

“No, we won’t share a room. It’s too soon for all that.” I round the bed and sit on the other side, sighing deeply. “Everything is still too . . . new between us.”

Mom is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Have you two had sex yet?”

My entire body flushes hot at her question. “No.”

“Oh.” Another hesitation. “Do you need to go on birth control?”

No. I’m not having sex with Tate Ramsey—ever. “Probably,” I hedge.

“You should make an appointment with the gynecologist before you leave.” Mom keeps her gaze focused on the clothes so she doesn’t have to look at me. “And take care of that right away.”

“I will,” I say softly, though I won’t.

I can’t. We’re flying out tomorrow, and I don’t have the time.

Besides, I don’t need to.

She lifts her head, her eyes filled with concern. “Oh, darling. Please make sure Tate treats you well.”

I’m a little taken aback by the worry in her voice. “I will, I promise.”

“I hope he’s good to you. I really, really do.” A sigh leaves her, and she shakes her head. “I googled him last night. There was a lot to go through.”

Dread fills me, making my stomach twist. “You googled him?”

“Of course I did. From what I read online, he went through a very rough time.”

“He did, but he’s a lot better now. He’s sober. Doesn’t drink or do drugs anymore,” I reassure her.

“I’m happy to hear it, and I wish him well. In the entertainment industry, it’s so hard to avoid those sorts of things. They’re everywhere.” The doubt on her face, in her voice, is obvious. Mom and Dad went through their “party phase,” as they like to call it, and I’ve done my own online sleuthing regarding my parents—excessive drug use and drinking were abundant with their crowd. I’m sure my parents partook.

I’ve seen photos of my dad and mom during their heyday. Sometimes they looked flat-out wasted. I’m sure her concern is warranted.

Could I approach Tate with my own worries about his sobriety and warn him that temptation will be everywhere? Or is this even something I could talk to him about? I’m sure he’s aware of all of that. And maybe it’s none of my business. After all . . .

He’s just my fake boyfriend.

“I have total faith in him,” I say with all the confidence I can muster. “He’ll be fine. He’s stronger than everyone thinks.”

Mom studies me, warmth filling her gaze. “That’s so sweet, Scarlett. How much you believe in him. I think I like you seeing this boy. Even if you did originally go to him only to make Ian jealous.”

My mouth pops open as I stare at her. “That’s not⁠—”

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Mom says, interrupting. “I understand your motives. Maybe you’ll fall for this Tate character, maybe you won’t, but if he helps you get over Ian once and for all, I won’t complain.”

I’m a little offended. “You don’t like Ian?”

“Darling, I feel like you’re the only person I know who does like him.”

* * *

“You better call me every single day. No, you have to FaceTime me. I need to see the look on your face when I ask you for all the details about what you’re doing with Tate and you try to lie to me.”

Rachel and I are sitting in a restaurant, having an early dinner, which is totally unlike us. We don’t normally eat dinner until ten at night when we go out, but my flight with Tate to Los Angeles tomorrow is at an ungodly hour, and I don’t want to stay out too late. It’ll be difficult enough, having to get up that early. I’m already feeling reluctant about leaving my home. My parents. My best friend.

I’m a little scared. I can’t lie.

So here Rachel and I sit at one of our favorite places, eating one of their delicious appetizers, all while I’m trying to hold it together so I don’t burst into tears in front of her and admit I’m terrified of leaving.

It was difficult enough trying to keep myself calm when I was with my mom earlier. Rachel, on the other hand? She probably won’t let me cry. She’ll probably scare my tears away or tell me I need to get over myself, which I know she’s right about. I should totally get over myself.

But I’m nervous about this entire situation. I’m leaping into the unknown, and I can only hope that everything goes . . . well.

What does that mean? I can’t even answer that question. The whole plan is still so foreign to me.

“I’m not going to lie to you.” I lean across the table, lowering my voice, though I know no one is really paying attention to us. “But don’t forget, you’re the only one who knows what’s really going on besides me and Tate.”

“And his business manager, the entire team at the record label, and all the suits. Got it.” Rachel flashes me a thumbs-up accompanied by a shitty smile, just before she starts laughing.

“You’re the worst.” I shake my head and grab a fried green bean, dipping it in spicy sauce before I pop it into my mouth.

“You’re going to miss me so bad you’ll end up begging your little boyfriend to let me fly out to LA and hang out with you,” Rachel says.

“You wish. And there is nothing little about my boyfriend,” I mutter, taking a sip from my water glass.

Rachel arches a brow so high I swear it hits her hairline. “Oh, do tell, my friend. What do you know about his, ahem, size?”

My cheeks go hot at her words and their implication. “I know nothing about his . . . size, but he’s tall and has broad shoulders and big hands.”

“I bet there are other things on his body that are big.” Rachel bursts out laughing when I scowl at her. “I’m just teasing. But you’ve gotta know the boy is probably packing. Wait, let me correct that—the man.”

“Right, the man.” I nod, the green beans in my stomach curdling at the idea of being with Tate in any sort of sexual manner. My feelings aren’t disgust—they’re more like fear. And I can’t deny it—they’re also curiosity. “My mom wants me to get on birth control.”

“If I were Gloria Lancaster, I would want the same for my beautiful daughter before I sent her across the country to spend a month with freaking Tate Ramsey.”

“It might not be for a month. He told me it would only be a couple of weeks, max.” I feel like I’m repeating the same conversation I had with my mother only a few hours before.

“When is your return flight?”

“We don’t have one. They hired a jet for us, and they’ll do the same when we’re ready to come back,” I admit, my voice small.

The knowing look on Rachel’s face is obvious. “Uh-huh. Which means you could end up there the entire time he’s making his album, and that could be months, Scarlett. Did you even think of that?”

“Why would he make me stick around that long?” Alarm sweeps through me at the thought.

Alarm and a heady rush of excitement. This is truly the wildest thing I’ve ever done in my life. And it’s especially scary because I’m doing it alone, with only Tate by my side to guide me.

“I don’t know. Because it looks good? Because everyone is buying the two of you as a couple? Plus, he might need you there for good luck or whatever. Inspiration,” Rachel explains.

“He told his guy at Irresistible that I’m his muse,” I admit.

“His muse?” When I nod my confirmation, Rachel literally fans herself. “Well, that’s all kinds of hot. Do you think he means it?”

“No,” is my automatic response.

“He wrote that song about you.”

“He was mad at me when he wrote it.”

“Mad and horny for you, more like.” Rachel starts laughing, no doubt at the look on my face. “I’m teasing you, but not really. Look, I totally believe you’re some sort of inspiration to him. He wrote a freaking song about you. He wants you with him.”

“That’s the suits talking,” I remind her. “They like the idea of us together.”

“Give them what they want then.” She takes a sip of her soda, her bright-pink lips pursed around the straw. “And hey, if you need me for emotional support, I could be there whenever you call, since you canceled on our European tour.”

“I didn’t cancel. I just postponed it.” I feel terrible about it too. “I wish we could still go.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” Rachel reaches out and settles her hand over mine on the table. “I’m just going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. I’m sure I’ll practically die of boredom and need you out there to hang out with me.”

Rachel grins. “You really think you’ll get bored with Mr. Sexy Pants?”

“Sexy Pants?” I’m giggling. “Don’t know how much Tate would approve of that nickname. And yes, I think I’ll get bored. This is a work trip for him. Not fun. He’ll be gone all day at the studio, and I’ll be stuck at a house. Alone.”

“You won’t be stuck. You can do whatever you want.”

“I can’t drive.”

“You can take an Uber. Hire a car and driver to be on hand. You’re a freaking Lancaster—you can do whatever the hell you want.”

“I should probably learn how to drive,” I murmur, nibbling on another fried green bean.

“Who’s going to teach you? I suppose you could hire someone.”

“That sounds . . .”

Awful. I don’t want to hire someone to teach me to drive. I don’t want to hire a car and driver to be on hand at my every whim either, even if that’s what I’m used to. I want this time out in LA to be an adventure. Something new and exciting and just for me—and Tate.

Instead I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to do to fill enough hours in the day to keep me preoccupied. A girl can only shop for so long before she gets bored.

“I’ll just hire a car,” I say with a sigh. “I bet the record label will provide one.”

“Sounds like a tough life.” Rachel smiles at me, and I can see the sympathy shining in her gaze.

She feels sorry for me, and I sort of hate that.

I return the smile, sitting up straighter. Trying to look stronger. “You know it.”

A text notification sounds right as we start laughing, and I glance down to see I have a text from . . .

My new boyfriend.

Tate: Where are you?

Me: Out to dinner with Rachel.

Tate: ??

Me: My best friend.

Tate: Oh right. I forgot for a minute.

Me: You better not forget her. She’s my very best friend and she might come out to see me when we’re in LA.

Tate: As long as she doesn’t know what’s really going on I’m cool with it.

Guilt slides through me, and I mentally shove it aside. That I told her really shows how much I trust her.

“Who’s texting you?” Rachel asks.

I glance up to find her watching me. “It’s Tate. He’s wondering where I am.”

Pausing, I glance to my left, noticing a girl who looks about our age blatantly staring at me. Like she’s listening to my every word. The moment we make eye contact, she hurriedly looks away, leaning into the girl sitting next to her before they start whispering furiously.

My stomach knots. I think she recognizes me. And I just said his name out loud, which, if she does recognize me, is confirmation of who I am.

“Did you tell him?” Rachel asks.

“Not really,” I admit. I’m about to tell Rachel yet again how much I need her to keep this thing quiet, but I can’t do that here. Not when there are too many people around us.

Too many people possibly listening to us.

My phone buzzes again and I check it.

Tate: What restaurant are you at?

I give him the name and drop a pin with my exact location.

Tate: Perfect. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

Panic joins the cocktail of emotions currently swirling inside of me, and I blink at my phone in mute shock.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel’s voice rises. “You look really freaked out right now.”

“Tate just said he’ll be here in a few minutes.” I lift my head to stare at her. “He’s coming here.”

“What? You don’t want him crashing our last girls’-night dinner?” Rachel grabs a fried green bean and points it at me like a weapon. “He better not come between us. Especially since he’s your fa⁠—”

“People are spying on us,” I interrupt her, not wanting the word fake to be said out loud.

Rachel slowly glances around the restaurant, her eyes narrowed. It feels like practically every person in here turns their head all at once, pretending they don’t notice us. I can see the realization dawn in Rachel’s eyes. The mischievous smile slowly appearing on her face. “Well, well, well. Looks like you hit Fitzy Lancaster celebrity status, Scarlett. All by dating a has-been boy band member.”

“He’s not a has-been,” I correct. Not even close. The online chatter about Tate hasn’t lessened whatsoever. In the last day it’s become even worse. Rumor has it the single is going to debut in the top ten on the Billboard charts. He’s a big deal.

“If Tate Ramsey shows up here, he’s going to cause major chaos,” Rachel whispers, her eyes wide.

My stomach dips. “I think that’s exactly what he wants.”

And I’m not sure if I’m fully prepared for it.