8.Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Hank

Maybe it’s weird that I brought June with me to this meeting, but as soon as Bonnie mentioned the word contract when it comes to our pretend relationship, I knew I needed someone who could understand what I was signing. True, I could have asked my actual lawyer to look over it, but I trust June more. Plus, it will be helpful to have someone on my side who knows that none of this is real.

None of this is real . It’s a reminder I’ve had to give myself multiple times since leaving the set yesterday, but it has done nothing to settle my anxiety.

“Why did I say yes?” My steps falter as June and I walk onto the field where the bulk of the production staff are set up just outside of town. I’m getting a strange déjà vu, even though the last time I was here felt nothing like this.

The last time I was here, I met Bonnie and got myself into this mess. The last time I was here, I could have sworn I felt… But no, I don’t even want to think about what I felt when I was talking to Beckett .

June grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. “The fact that you just asked that question out loud has me worried, Hank. Why did you say yes?”

I swallow and stuff my hands into my pockets, trying to look calm even though I’m anything but. I can feel several pairs of eyes on me, and I probably shouldn’t stand here for long, especially not with June. If the internet can create an entire relationship based on one photo, I can’t imagine what they would do if they saw me with another woman. Reluctantly, I gesture with my head for us to keep walking.

“I’m not sure I have much of a choice,” I mutter. “And I want to help her.” I do. I wish I could help her in some other way, though.

Hot on my heels, June is quiet for nearly thirty seconds before she says, “Fine. You want to help Bonnie. How is this helping you ?”

It’s not. From the minute I met Bonnie, my life has been flipped on its head, and every wall I’ve put up to protect myself seems to be crumbling. That, or there are people throwing up ladders and climbing to the top to look down on me with binoculars.

“Hank,” June says when I don’t answer, and her voice is full of warning.

“I know,” I say back and then knock on Bonnie’s trailer door before I can chicken out. I can barely stomach the thought of what I’m about to do, but neither can I abandon Bonnie. I’m in between a rock and a hard place.

Bonnie greets us with a megawatt grin when she opens the trailer door. “You came!” Her eyes linger on June, a bit wary, but she waves us both inside. “Make yourselves at home.”

I pause just inside the door, taking in the small space. She lives in here? As far as trailers go, it’s incredibly nice, but if I thought my house was small…

“Feel free to sit,” Bonnie says to me. Her hand brushes mine as she passes to the bedroom area at the back, sending a shock through me that isn’t entirely unpleasant .

I settle next to June on the surprisingly comfortable couch and try to find some sort of confidence so I don’t spend the morning sounding completely pathetic. “Uh, Bonnie, this is June.”

“June Harper,” June says, reaching up and grasping Bonnie’s hand with a firm handshake. “I’ll be representing Mr. McAllister.”

“Repre…” Bonnie blinks a couple of times before it clicks, and her eyes go wide. “Oh! You’re his lawyer!”

June looks a little too mischievous right now. “I’m his friend,” she corrects. “But I also know law. I’m just here to make sure you don’t wind up hurting him.”

“Trust me, that’s the last thing I want. That’s why I have my publicist, Fran, here.” Bonnie grabs a laptop and sets it on the table in front of us, showing us the woman on the other end of a video call.

Fran lifts a single penciled eyebrow as she takes me in. “Mr. McAllister,” she says, holding her hand toward the screen. What, does she expect me to try to shake it? I’m so nervous that I almost lift my hand and try. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a couple of days now.”

“My internet is out,” I say quickly. It’s not technically a lie, though it’s only out because I unplugged the router last night. I’ve been slowly descending deeper and deeper into hermithood over the last few years, but this is more cut off than I’ve ever been. If something ever happens to me, no one will find my body for weeks. Well, one week. June would figure it out pretty quickly.

Humming to herself, Fran types a few things before adjusting her cat-eye glasses and popping her gum. She has this look about her, like she belongs in the fifties as a nosy reporter, and I already don’t like her. “Well, Mr. McAllister,” she says, “you’ve caused quite a stir with my little Bonnie, haven’t you?”

I tuck my hands under my thighs to keep myself from fidgeting. “I suppose.”

“In his defense,” June says, leaning forward, “he and Bonnie were just talking. Whoever took that first photo alleged a lot of things, and it’s the media’s fault Bonnie and Hank are in this mess.”

Lifting her other eyebrow this time, Fran studies June for a moment. “And you are?”

“June Harper, Mr. McAllister’s representation.”

“Ah. Well, Ms. Harper, as I’m sure you know, public opinion is a very difficult thing to control.”

“But that’s your job, isn’t it?”

Fran smiles a pinched sort of smile that contains more irritation than amusement. “It sure is, hon. That’s why we’re having this meeting. Now, where’s Bonnie?”

“Right here,” she says, sliding onto the couch next to me. It’s a bit snug with the three of us, and my heart rate spikes as soon as her hip presses against mine. “I figured we could go pretty standard with this one, Fran. Nothing too crazy.”

“Please,” I say before I can hold it in.

“And I would like to point out that Mr. McAllister has not agreed to anything at this point,” June says.

I can feel Bonnie’s eyes on me, but I keep my focus on the computer. I don’t need her doe-eyes convincing me to agree to anything and everything that would help her, no matter how difficult. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep, but the fact that I’m here at all is proof that Bonnie’s skills of persuasion are stronger than I would like.

She didn’t even have to try. Just being around her has made me protective of her.

Fran huffs a quick laugh as she studies June. “Aren’t you a peach?”

“What do you recommend, Fran?” Bonnie asks.

“Daily appearances, of course,” Fran says, immediately making my breath catch in my lungs. But she’s not done. “You’ll need to go out around town a few times, probably make an appearance in LA, do some lives on Insta, that sort of thing. Nothing too complicated starting out.”

That’s starting out?

“As Mr. McAllister doesn’t have an online presence, it’s difficult to say where this will go and how much we’ll need to put into it,” Fran continues, obviously talking solely to Bonnie even though I’m sitting in the center of the camera’s view, pressed between the two women. “I suggest taking it one day at a time. For now, I will slip a confirmation to the press beyond Hot Scoop that you are, in fact, in a relationship, and I’ll let you handle the rest. You’ve been through this enough times to know what to do, Bonnie.”

“I think that sounds reasonable,” Bonnie says, looking at me again. My eyes slip to my thighs as I focus on breathing. “What do you think, Hank?”

I think I’m in way over my head. The internet may want me to be with Bonnie, but none of that stuff sounds like things I’m capable of. What if I only make things worse?

“Mr. McAllister,” Fran says, waiting until I look up at the computer again. “I know this sounds daunting, but I need you to consider the repercussions of killing this relationship before it has had a chance to blossom.”

I’m not going to like this. I can feel it. But my voice is stuck in my throat so I can’t tell Fran that I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

“Bonnie is already on unstable ground with the media,” Fran says. “Her recent breakup with Derek Riley, while necessary, stirred up some negative feelings among her fans, and her career needs a win. If we can’t prove to the world that Bonnie is capable of holding a relationship with someone unconventional like you, she may lose whatever credibility she has gained over the last few years. ”

I frown. I’m pretty sure Bonnie has been acting for almost a decade. Did she not have credibility before that? Even if that’s the case, could one failed relationship be enough to ruin her?

Before I can ask, Fran keeps talking. “And I’m not sure you fully understand what’s at stake for you, Mr. McAllister. Hollywood Hot Scoop and countless other websites have set their eyes on you, and you don’t want to underestimate the power of their followers. If you turn your back on Bonnie, it’ll be my job to try to protect her. That means placing blame on your head.”

“Is that a threat?” June asks. Her words are so sharp that I flinch away from her.

Fran smirks. “It’s a fact, Ms. Harper. And it’s nothing personal.”

It feels personal. But can I really blame her for protecting Bonnie when Bonnie has proven she’s skilled at letting people walk all over her? Without Jonah stepping in—without me stepping in—she would have suffered in silence and let the script remain a mess. Beckett was never going to listen to her, and it’s obvious Fran knows Bonnie isn’t going to fight for herself.

In a strange way, I admire the gumption Fran has in being upfront about things. Even if I don’t love the threat she just made. As much as I wish things could go back to the way they were, it’s becoming more and more clear that that isn’t an option and never will be.

“Hank,” June says, back to that warning tone she had before.

I look at her, my eyebrows pulling low as I consider the fact that I may not have a choice here. “What would you have me do?” I whisper, hopefully so Fran can’t hear me. Bonnie’s too close to avoid, but in a strange way I trust her to keep her thoughts to herself until I’ve made a decision.

June scowls at me. “Don’t you care what this will do to your life?”

“What life?” My own question feels like a slap to the face as reality settles in around me. “I don’t know if I can call what I have living. ”

Yes, I’m terrified by the idea of this pretend relationship. I’m terrified of what it’ll mean for the solitude I’ve built for myself. I’m also terrified of sinking into complete obscurity. But more than anything, I’m terrified of what will happen to Bonnie if I don’t step in and help because I’m too focused on myself.

This much terror and guilt isn’t good for my blood pressure.

June puts her hand on my arm. “Hank, I think this is a bad idea.”

“How about this?” Fran says. “I’ll send over the contract, you can look it over to your heart’s content, and you can either sign it or sign the NDA I will also send to make sure nothing bad happens to Bonnie. Good? Great.” She ends the call before any of us can respond.

“NDA?” June says in a growl.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Bonnie replies, speaking over me as I stare at the blank screen in front of me. “Just a way to protect us both.”

“I don’t think your publicist has any interest in protecting Hank.”

“I’ll make sure he’s fine.”

“Is that really up to you, Bonnie?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I can’t breathe. It feels like the trailer is getting smaller—an impressive feat—and their arguing isn’t doing anything to slow my racing heart and racing thoughts and racing breaths because I can’t pull in enough air with everything closing in around me.

I jump to my feet, desperate to get outside and get some air and get a chance to properly think this all through because I can’t—

An umbrella topples over in my path right before I reach the door. It’s an old-fashioned one, with a curved wooden handle and red fabric stretched taut along the ribs. Red with white polka-dots.

The whole world stills. Grows quiet. Calm.

It feels like I just jumped into a cool lake in the middle of summer, leaving the heat of the sun and the sounds of the world behind. I pick up the umbrella, running shaky fingers along the smooth handle .

“Oh, I forgot I stole that from set the other day,” Bonnie says gently, coming up behind me. “One of the things I love most about Gabrielle’s character is all the little details that make her feel like a real person, you know? Like her favorite umbrella being so spunky when she’s supposed to be this hardened detective. It’s such a unique quirk.”

Swallowing, I gently rest the umbrella back in its spot and turn to face Bonnie.

She gives me an apologetic smile, and there’s so much worry in her expression. It’s an expression I haven’t seen on her. “Are you okay? That didn’t go how I wanted it to go. Fran isn’t usually so…”

“Horrible?” June supplies from the couch. She watches us with narrowed eyes.

I grab Bonnie’s hand and tug her outside, closing the door between us and June. While I appreciate my friend’s protective nature, this is a decision I have to make myself. Out in the open air, I can breathe easier, but I stopped panicking as soon as I saw that umbrella.

Funny. I would have expected the opposite.

“Fran is just trying to do her job,” I say after a few deep breaths. “I’m glad you have someone on your side through all of this.”

A smile flashes across Bonnie’s face, but it’s short lived. “I’m glad you do too. June is right. Fran was kind of horrible to you. But I mean it when I say I’ll make sure you’re okay, no matter what you decide.”

“We should do it.” Though the words seem to strangle me for a moment, they mostly feel right. I need to help her. “If a relationship is the best thing for you, for your career, I’ll do it.”

As she practically vibrates with the smile that blooms across her cheeks, I can tell Bonnie is doing her best not to look overexcited. “Really? Hank, you have no idea what that would mean to me.”

I might have an idea, and my body seems to relax more the longer I stand next to her and soak in her joy. “What was Fran saying about instant life something?” I ask, rubbing my arm as a brisk wind rolls across the set. I wore a flannel, since we’re only just getting into spring, but Laketown sometimes surprises me with how long it takes to warm up. Still, spring is coming. I can smell the change in the air.

Bonnie frowns for a second, but then she brightens again. “Oh, you mean the Insta lives? It’s just filming live videos on Instagram. Nothing special.”

I wince. “Live videos? How many people usually watch those?”

“I don’t know. A few hundred thousand, usually? But the videos always get uploaded for people to watch later if they don’t see them live. Time zones and all that.”

I knew Bonnie was famous. It would be difficult not to know that. She’s a Hollywood starlet who has starred alongside some of the most celebrated actors in this century. But I guess it never really computed how many people would bother to see what’s going on in her life on a day-to-day basis.

Could my decision really have that much of an impact on someone like her? I’m not going to back down—not when I saw her relief when I agreed—but I still wonder if her situation is as dire as Fran seemed to think. If people got to know the Bonnie I’ve seen these last few days, surely they would love her no matter who she’s with.

I start talking if only to stop myself from asking my questions out loud. I need to stay focused on the tasks at hand, including the whole live video concept. “So…hundreds of thousands of people, maybe millions, are going to start paying attention to me. My personal life will be up for debate and dissection by people who didn’t even know I existed until the other day when they saw my photo. That’s…fine.”

It’s not fine. It’s anything but fine. But it has to be fine because otherwise I’m going to hurt Bonnie’s career and possibly destroy mine in the process depending on how Fran handles the situation. My identity is out there—that can’t be changed—so I should embrace this change and see the positives, few though they may be. I might get more readers from this, which means more profits, which means more money that I can donate to underfunded police forces around the country.

But this really isn’t about me, so I tuck those thoughts away and turn my focus to Bonnie. “What is our relationship going to look like?” I ask, looking down at our hands together. I didn’t even realize I was still holding on to her. I shift so our fingers interlace, which better fits a romantic relationship. The gesture feels foreign and familiar all at once. “What do we need to do to keep convincing people that we’re a couple?”

Bonnie waits until I look up and meet her gaze once more, and then she smiles in a way that makes me feel like I’ve downed an entire cup of fresh tea. I’m suddenly warmed all the way through. “I don’t think it will be hard to sell it, honestly. You’re already my hero, so as long as you don’t look at me like I disgust you…”

“That’s impossible,” I murmur and then cringe. I probably need to explain that one. “I mean you’re beautiful, Bonnie. No disgust here.”

Her cheeks tint a lovely pink. I didn’t notice before that she has some freckles that dot her cheeks, faint speckles beneath her makeup. I wouldn’t have guessed something like that, with her dark hair, but her skin is fair enough. I wonder if her freckles get darker in the sun. My stomach hitches; I shouldn’t be wondering that.

“Mostly I want to make sure you’re comfortable with all of this,” she says, and it’s like she’s suddenly embarrassed as she ducks her head. “If you want to hold my hand and nothing else, that’s fine by me.”

“What if I want to kiss you?” I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do, but I also haven’t kissed anyone in four years. I’m for sure out of practice, and I don’t know what would happen if we did kiss. I don’t anticipate blurring lines, but I’m a writer. I know the tropes. As soon as the couple in the fake relationship kiss, everything turns real.

I can’t afford that. I’m already looking at her in a way I shouldn’t.

“You can kiss me if you’d like,” she says to the ground. I honestly can’t tell if she would like that or not. Not that it matters .

Clearing my throat, I shake my head when Bonnie looks up at me with curious eyes. “I don’t want to come across as a jerk,” I say carefully, “but I’m not planning on this being anything but a way to keep your publicity in a good place. I won’t—can’t—catch real feelings at any point, so I want to make sure we’re both on the same page. I would hate for you to get hurt.”

Jonah’s conviction that we have chemistry might be accurate to a point, but we could never make this relationship real. I could never.

Thankfully, Bonnie’s expression barely changes as she studies me. “You don’t have to worry about that on my end, Hank McAllister,” she says easily. “Real feelings and I have never mixed. I’ve had enough fake boyfriends to know that I’m not going to fall for you, no matter how cute you are.”

“Cute,” I repeat, though the word gets stuck in my throat. I’m blushing, and blushing hard, but I can’t help liking the idea of someone as effortlessly darling as Bonnie Aiken thinking I’m cute. “Well, thanks. And if you’re not worried, then I guess we…” I try to imagine the two of us kissing, but no matter how much romance I put into my books, I can’t picture it.

“We can just take things as they come,” Bonnie suggests. “And if we need it, I can grab the chemistry coach at any point if we think we can’t make a kiss look believable. Assuming that’s where things go.”

Somehow I forgot that this woman’s job is kissing various men in front of a camera, which means she must know all the rules in the book. Wait, are there actual kissing rules? Is movie kissing different from real life kissing? Why am I suddenly unable to think about anything except kissing?

I clear my throat again, pushing my glasses up my nose and forcing myself to sound aloof and unconcerned. “I have a deadline coming up.” Good heavens, I sound like a robot. It’s been way too long since I asked someone on a date, and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be this nervous when she will contractually have to agree. “Maybe one of these nights we can go to the ice cream shop in town and brainstorm the next Gabrielle book? It will count toward one of those outings Fran wants us to do, and it’ll be easier to get out of the house if I can do some work at the same time.” Ha! Nice one, Hank. I sound like a pig, and even if the date wouldn’t be real, that’s no way to ask a woman out.

Still, Bonnie’s eyes light up. “Wait, you want to brainstorm with me?”

“Not to be presumptuous, but you did say you were a fan.”

“I am absolutely a fan! And I would die to know more about the next book before it comes out. You’d really let me help? That’s a literal dream come true, Hank.”

I didn’t expect so much enthusiasm, and regret builds in my stomach. Maybe it will be less of a dream when she realizes how thoroughly stuck I am in this book. “I warn you, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. I might even have to scrap what I have and start all over, and you might hate this series by the time our relationship is over.”

By the time our relationship is over. That’s a strange sentence I never thought I would say. I’ve always been a forever kind of guy.

Forever ended a lot faster than I thought it would.

“I think it still sounds fun,” Bonnie says. “I could probably get away on Thursday, but we’ll have to have Eli with us. My bodyguard. He’ll just blend into the background, so don’t worry.”

I can’t imagine the Herculean bodyguard blending into anything, but I’ll take her word for it.

“Thursday sounds great,” I tell her, even though it sounds awful because the whole town will probably show up as soon as someone realizes I’m there. It’s not like I’m going to be able to avoid them anyway.

Why did I agree to this? That’s a dumb question because I already know the answer. When Bonnie smiles at me, I get this strange sense of hope that I won’t completely fade away. She’s the first person who has ever convinced me to willingly leave my house more than once, and that has to mean something.

“I’ll pick you up here at eight,” I say, and it takes me a second to let go of her hand. It’s been so long since I held anyone’s hand that it almost feels like I’ve forgotten the mechanics of it.

Bonnie smiles, but there’s something off about it. And she’s focused on something behind me. I turn to look, but she grabs my shoulder and pulls herself in, planting a lingering kiss on my cheek. “I think I saw someone with a camera,” she whispers to keep me in place. Not that she needs to try.

If I thought holding someone’s hand was foreign, this is worse. What am I supposed to do? Kiss her back? No, that’s weird. I could hug her? I try that, though it feels stiff and awkward, and I can feel her tension in her body as she tries to adjust to my hold. It’s not like I haven’t hugged her before, so why in the world am I struggling this much?

“Uh, turns out it’s been a while since I was in a relationship,” I admit, keeping my voice low. I doubt someone with a camera would be able to hear us unless they’re closer than I’m thinking.

Bonnie frees her arms so she can wrap them around my neck and make this embrace less chummy and more romantic. At least, I think that’s what she’s doing. If nothing else, it’s more comfortable. “Maybe we should talk to the chemistry coach tomorrow.”

I’m already out of my comfort zone here. A chemistry coach sounds like my worst nightmare. It was a hug that started this whole thing, so I just need to do what I did then. “No. No, we can figure this out. I can. I’ll be better on Thursday.” And if I can’t, then maybe I’ll try the whole coaching thing. “Is the photographer gone?”

Bonnie chuckles. “No, but hopefully they got enough of a show to be satisfied. I’ll let you go.” She does, but slowly. Like she doesn’t want to part ways. And she gives me this heated look that makes me shiver. Maybe she hasn’t been in many blockbuster hits, but Bonnie Aiken can act. She almost has me fooled. “See you Thursday, Hank. I can’t wait.”

“Yeah.”

By the time I drop June off and head back home, the weight of what I agreed to has fully settled on my shoulders, leaving me exhausted. I haven’t even had to do anything yet. But I know my choice was the only one I could have made. I knew it even before I said yes. I knew it the instant that umbrella fell into my path.

As I step inside, my eyes stray to the coat rack in the corner by the door. It’s nothing special, and neither are my coats. But the big red umbrella with white polka dots tucked behind it?

I don’t believe in signs, but this one feels too in my face to ignore.

“Shelby, what in the world are you trying to tell me?” I whisper, holding my breath in the silence that follows.

As if she might actually answer.