Take Two

Sam started to leave but turned back at the door. “Micah, don’t fuck it up.”

“I’m trying not to.” But he was afraid he already had.

Micah knew the moment he opened the door that the room was empty. It felt too quiet, and void of the presence that filled any space Maddie occupied. He looked anyway—in the drawers, in the closet, for traces of her. But there were none. Not even a note. Just the faint cling of her apple scent that seemed to be everywhere—in the bed sheets, in the closet, in the air.

His chest tightened. He sat on the edge of the bed—the bed that felt too big for just one person—and lay back. He’d done it. He’d fucked up. He’d known she was upset when he saw her, her eyes filled with tears, pained by words he’d said. Why didn’t he fucking go after her?

He slid his phone out of his pants pocket and pushed redial for the hundredth time that day. He didn’t expect her to answer, but he couldn’t give up. Not yet.

It rang four times. Then, just as he was about to hang up, she answered.

“Micah?”

He sat up. “Maddie!” Relief washed over him. “Thank God. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”

“Oh.” She sounded distant, far away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“No, Maddie, I’m sorry.” He needed to apologize—he just wasn’t sure what to apologize for first. “I didn’t know about Beaumont. Do you want me to get your job back?”

“No!” She softened. “Please don’t. It’s fine. He’s a prick anyway.”

“He is.” Say it. Tell her you’re sorry about the reporter. Tell her you didn’t mean it. Tell her you love her. “Maddie—” This was so awkward over the phone. He paused, suddenly aware of echoing background noises. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the airport. I’m going home, Micah.”

“Oh.” Shit. The weight on his chest returned.

She cleared her throat. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I just wanted to get out of there, you know?”

“Uh, yeah.” He rubbed his hand over his face. Why should she stay? Her job was the only reason she was in Colorado.

But he’d hoped she’d stay for him. Instead she’d run. Did he blame her? Hadn’t he run from her first? “Yeah, I get it.”

“But I wanted to say thank you for the past few weeks.” Her words were stiff and rehearsed. “I had a really fun time.”

Fun? Micah resisted the urge to throw his phone. Sure, they had fun together, but they had experienced so much more than that. He knew he hadn’t imagined it.

Fuck, he wasn’t trying hard enough. “It doesn’t have to be over, Maddie,” he said softly. “What I said to that journalist—”

He heard an intercom a

“Wait, Maddie!” He paused, making sure he could still hear her on the line. Stay. He wanted to ask her to stay. But he chickened out. “Can I call you?”

“Of course.” Her voice cracked, but she recovered. “Talk to you soon.”

Then she was gone.

He threw his fist into the bed. Hard. Even though her words said differently, she’d just shut him out. That phone call, the reason she’d finally answered—she was telling him goodbye.

He should have gone after her.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Even after a two and a half hour flight and a long delay at baggage claim, Maddie still had Micah’s phone call in her head. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him, afraid that she’d break down and run back, but he deserved a goodbye. Besides, knowing him, he wouldn’t quit calling and texting until she talked to him.

She’d been right—the minute she heard his voice she couldn’t remember why she’d left. But why would she have stayed? Her job was over and Micah hadn’t given her any reason not to go. He hadn’t asked her not to leave, hadn’t told her he wanted to keep seeing her. Hadn’t told her he loved her the way she had stupidly told him. Leaving was the only thing to do.

The conversation had gone well enough. She’d communicated the things that were necessary: I had fun and I left because I was fired. She didn’t want him thinking she’d left because of him. She needed a clean break.

She’d told him he could call. That was the polite thing to do, though she didn’t plan to answer again. Clean. Break.

It doesn’t have to be over, Maddie.

That was what gave her pause, the words she’d played over and over again in her mind. What did he mean? Did he mean they could still shack up until the end of the shoot? Or longer? If it was an attempt to continue their relationship past Friday, it was halfhearted at best. And she couldn’t stay for a halfhearted invitation. Hopeless romantic Maddie wanted whole-heart. She wanted an “I love you” or “Don’t go”.

It didn’t matter. He had told her over and over he didn’t believe in a real relationship. She’d been the fool for thinking she could change him.

She texted Bree, telling her she’d be outside in five, slung her bag higher on her shoulder and headed out to the passenger pick-up exit. Bree had been circling the airport and was already waiting when Maddie walked through the automatic doors to the street.

“Oh, sweetie.” Bree jumped out of her car and threw her arms around her friend. “I’m here for you. I want to hear everything.”

Maddie, not normally a hugger, pressed into Bree’s embrace, enjoying the feeling of being cared for. Tears started again, and she pulled away, wiping her eyes. “There’s a lot to tell.”

“Start talking.”

After her bags were tucked in the trunk, Maddie climbed in the passenger seat, buckled her belt and recounted the last six weeks. Bree knew bits of it, but Maddie filled in all the holes. By the time she’d told it all, they were back in her apartment in Studio City, curled up on the couch, each with a glass of cheap white zin.

Bree, having said very little, took a deep breath. “Okay, first, Beaumont’s an ass. You already knew that.”

Maddie nodded. “How can you stand to be his assistant?”

“I’m rarely in the same room with him. We communicate mainly by phone and it’s easy to ignore his assholelishness. Besides, I don’t threaten him. You do.”

“I don’t threaten him.”

“Yes, you do. You’re smart, talented, and you have vision—traits that B has himself, but he’s very afraid he’s losing or already lost. Anyway, my point is, don’t worry about him. He faxed me a new call schedule today. They’ll be able to fit the reshoot in without going much past deadline. I had to change a couple of flights out of Denver and extend a permit, but it’s all taken care of with very little cost or inconvenience. The movie’s going to be fine.”

Maddie let out a breath. She took pride in her work and had been upset about the lost footage, even though it wasn’t any of her concern anymore.

Bree looked Maddie in the eye. “And B’s not going to destroy you. I won’t let him.”

“Thank you.” Maddie took a long swallow.

“That’s what I’m here for.” Bree swirled the liquid around in her glass. “What are you scheduled to do next?”

“I’m supposed to join the crew in two weeks on the set for a Dean Bayle film.”

“Good.”

Maddie bit her lip. “But I already texted Adam and gave him my notice.”

Bree smiled. “Even better. Are you going to work on your own film instead?”

“Yes.” She’d decided this on the plane. She had some money set aside that she could live on for a bit while she tried to get some producers. Micah had thought her material was good enough. Still, she’d been blacklisted for a reason. “Is that stupid?”

“No. Your work is even better now than it was when the first Beaumont fiasco happened. It’s gotta get a nibble, blacklisted or not. Besides, he can’t rule all of Hollywood forever. Do you have a trailer cut?”

Maddie nodded.

“Get it to me and a copy of the script and I’ll pass it around to some people I know. It might take a while to convince people that whatever Beaumont has said about you is a lie, but we’ll get there.”