Winter Jacket: Finding Home (22 page)

We were in the middle of a brainstorming session when Troian brought the news. “We are a smashing success,” she declared. “The network couldn’t be more pleased. The trade papers are calling our silly little show a revelation and that we’re breathing new life into the genre.”

The room exploded in a panoply of voices and scattered high fives.

“More news, more news.” Troian flailed her arms and raised her voice. “We’re getting an A and B season—twelve consecutive episodes and then the second half will premier sometime in February.”

“What does that mean for our writing schedule?” Aviva asked.

“We’ll keep working as we have been with no major breaks,” Troian said. “That way if we come across any creative differences down the line, we won’t be crunched for time. Same goes for the shooting schedule. We’ll have things wrapped up and go on hiatus in April, hopefully with the good news that we’ve been renewed for a second season.”

A quiet murmur of multiple side conversations filled the room. The hope of a next season was already on people’s minds.

“Shoot,” Troian muttered under her breath. Her reaction went unnoticed by the others, but not by me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning toward her.

Troian shook her head and chuckled. “I just realized I’d better schedule some time off for my honeymoon.”

+ + +

The timing couldn’t have been less perfect, not that there would have ever been a good time for Hunter to break my heart. We’d been picked up for a full season—a full twenty-four-episode run. It should have been a time to celebrate, but I still felt numb.

I stood in a room no bigger than a typical bedroom. Only the door that locked behind me and the conjoined bathroom distinguished it as a private room. A double bed dominated the space. The brass bed frame and quaint quilted comforter reminded me of the spare bedroom in my grandmother’s house. A bounty of natural light spilled in through whimsical, white cotton curtains. An antique chest of drawers was the only other furniture in the room; a washbasin and china pitcher sat atop the bureau’s surface.

“It’ll do, pig,” I said, hefting my oversized suitcase onto the mattress. The bed frame rattled from the extra weight and I half worried my luggage had broken the bed.

Troian ran in behind me and flopped down on the bed, causing it to squeak and protest even more under her slight weight. She bounced on the mattress experimentally. The metal springs noised their complaint. “Guess no sneaky sex for you, Bookie.”

I sat down next to Troian; the bed made its disapproval clear. “I’m not planning on having sex of any kind this weekend, sneaky or otherwise.”

“It’s not exactly the kind of thing you
plan
to happen, especially at a wedding. Why didn’t you bring a date? Your invite was plus one.”

I shrugged, but stayed silent.

“It’s not like you haven’t caught the attention of a few women on set.”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“You’d better not be pouty all weekend,” she threatened. “I’ll have some wedding sex flown in, special for you.”

“Are you and Nik staying here, too?” I changed the subject to a more comfortable topic.

“Just for the night. Tomorrow after the reception I’ve got a car driving us to a bed and breakfast farther up north. But for tonight we have separate rooms in the farmhouse so we don’t jinx the wedding.”

“You really believe that stuff?”

“Not especially, but I’m not taking any chances.” She lightly slapped my knee and hopped to her feet. “I’d better get changed for the rehearsal dinner. I can’t believe I have to get dolled up two days in a row,” she said, making a face.

“Whatever,” I scoffed. “You love getting fancy, and you love the attention.”

Troian stopped at the door to my room. “Do you need a ride to the restaurant? We could carpool.”

“No, I can manage on my own. Besides, you’ll have to stay until the bitter end, and I don’t plan on being out that late.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groaned. “Let’s just hope that Nik’s extended family doesn’t show up tonight. The way they pound down alcohol, I’ll never get them to leave the restaurant.”

“I’ll see you over there.”

As I got ready for the rehearsal and dinner, I thought about Troian’s words about not having brought a date. It surprised me that she hadn’t laid into me any more about it, but she had her own things to worry about—she was getting married in less than twenty-four hours.

Because the wedding and reception were on the rustic side of the spectrum, Nikole and Troian had decided the location for the rehearsal dinner should ooze luxury and elegance. Chez Pignot was a high-end French restaurant that served classic French food and had an expansive patisserie.

Our party had reserved the upper level, which consisted of both indoor and outdoor space. There were three main rooms: one that housed the bar, and two other lounge areas. Restaurant staff circulated amongst the party with trays of heavy hors d’oeuvres and bite-sized desserts.

The rooftop patio offered expansive views of a memorable sunset, and as night descended upon the party, white twinkle lights—strung up and wound around every surface imaginable—illuminated the space. It made the outdoor restaurant look like something out of a fairytale.

Troian, Nikole, and I stood near the rooftop’s edge. I sipped conservatively from a glass of pinot grigio and snatched at appetizers as waiters swooped past.

“Got your speech ready for tomorrow?” Troian asked. “I fully expect to be dazzled, but no pressure.”

I cocked my head. “Speech? I have to give a speech?”

“Not funny, dude,” she grumbled.

“Maybe I should just hand over my speech right now, and you can give me notes on how to improve it.”

“Speaking of that,” Troian noted, “have you looked over Jackson’s notes for your script?”

“No, no, no,” Nikole jumped in. “You are
not
talking about work at my wedding.”

Troian stuck out her lower lip. “But babe, it’s not our wedding day yet.”

“I don’t care,” Nik said. “This is our wedding weekend, and you’re not going to spend it talking shop. I let you invite too many work people as is. Don’t make me regret it.”

I held up a hand in solemn oath. “You have my word, Nik. No …” My brain refused to complete the sentence when a familiar flash of blonde hair caught my attention.

“I’m not ready for this.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, accompanied by a soft gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Troian asked.

“Hunter. She’s
here
.”

If my friends said anything more, I couldn’t hear them.

Everything around me blurred, and voices became muffled as I observed her from across the rooftop venue. The night had grown dark and only white twinkle lights and low burning lanterns illuminated the rooftop restaurant, but there was no way I could miss her. She stood off to one side on the rooftop, cradling a glass of white wine. Her hair was pulled back in a charming French braid. The style was purposely loose and slips of hair had worked their way free from the master design to frame her face in soft, airy wisps. She wore a light blue sleeveless dress with a pleated skirt that cut off just at her knee. The overall effect with her alabaster skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes was that of an ice princess, but I knew her blood ran hot.

Time almost seemed to slow down as I watched her interacting with an auburn-haired woman. I remembered her from Minnesota, but I couldn’t recall her name; she’d been Nikole’s second in command at the landscaping company. The warmth Hunter exuded in a simple smile did uncomfortable things to my stomach.

I didn’t know how long I’d stood in that spot, just staring, until a hand grabbed my wrist, and I found myself being wrestled inside the restaurant and dragged in the direction of the women’s restroom.

The bathroom door crashed shut behind us. “I can’t believe she came.” There was fury writ across Troian’s face. “That girl has some real nerve.”

I wished I could have borrowed some of Troian’s indignant anger. My shoulders drooped instead. “You invited her. And she RSVP’d.”

“I know.” Troian’s arms whipped around her head as she talked. “But I didn’t think she’d actually show up!”

I propped myself up against a wall and folded my arms across my chest. “What do I do? Do I go talk to her?” I asked. “Do I pretend I didn’t see her?”

Troian paced back and forth in front of the row of sinks. “I can make her leave.” Her voice became shrill. “It’s my party. I can do that.”

“Do you really want to make a scene? It’ll only make everyone feel awkward.”

“I don’t want you talking to her tonight,” Troian said, leveling her gaze on me.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think it’s a good idea. You may not see it, but you’re still really fragile, and I don’t want to see you broken again.”

“I’ll be fine,” I stubbornly insisted. I sucked in a deep breath and drew myself to my full height. “We’re all adults,” I said with finality. “I can talk to her.”

I exited the bathroom, leaving Troian and her rage behind. When I reached the rooftop again, I scanned the dimly lit space and looked for Hunter. I spotted the landscaping woman again, but Hunter was no longer talking to her. I half contemplated that maybe she had left the party already, until I felt a soft, glancing touch at my elbow.

I turned and froze.

“Hi.” A soft smile reached her lips.

“Hunter,” I breathed. I had restricted myself from saying her name out loud—from even
thinking
her name—for so long that the syllables felt foreign to my tongue. “I was just looking for you,” I said. “I wanted to get the awkwardness out of the way.”

She tucked her lower lip into her mouth and concern reached cornflower blue eyes. “I don’t want this to be awkward.”

“Me either,” I sighed.

“Then let’s not make it awkward.” She rewarded me with a lopsided grin that made it hard to remember to breathe. “How have you been?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear—a nervous habit. “How’s the show going?”

“It’s going really well. Our ratings have been solid, so the network is happy.” I ignored her first question because the truth was too uncomfortable. People always ask how you’re doing out of politeness, but they really don’t want to know the truth. 

“I saw the pilot.”

My eyebrows rose. “You did?”

“Yeah. I was incredibly proud when I saw your name in the end credits.”

I ducked my head at the praise. “It’s just a silly TV show. It’s not like I’m curing rare diseases or saving the rain forest.”

“Don’t be so modest,” she chastised. “You should be proud of your work. You’re being brave, Elli—.” She coughed and caught herself—she’d nearly called me Ellio. It broke my heart.

“I should … I should probably get back to the party,” I said, jerking my thumb in the direction of the wedding goers. I’d said my hello and now it was time to stop punishing myself by continuing to talk to her. “Best Woman duties and all.”

“Yeah, and I should go say hi to Nikole.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m guessing Troian doesn’t want to see me though. Luckily she’s too small to throw me off the roof.”

“I wouldn’t let her hear you say that,” I laughed in warning. “She’d probably accept it as a challenge.”

“Good idea,” she chuckled back. “Have fun tonight, Elle. It was really great to see you.”

I flashed her one final smile and spun on my heels to make a hasty, but dignified retreat. I found Troian waiting for me, arms crossed across her chest, near a table of desserts. “I saw the whole thing. You’re a masochist,” she said sourly.

“I wanted to say hello, that’s all.” I snagged a white wine off the tray of one of the restaurant’s circling waiters and took an overly large drink from the glass. My brief conversation with Hunter had left me parched.

Troian grabbed my wine glass and smelled its contents.

“What are you doing?” I complained, swiping uselessly to get my alcohol back.

She handed me the glass back. “Just making sure that’s wine and not something stronger.”

I took another inelegant slug and nearly finished the remaining liquid. “Like what?” I snorted. “Tequila?” I cocked my head to the side in thought. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

Troian’s dark eyes narrowed in warning.

I held up my hands in retreat. “I’m behaving, Boss, I promise. White wine is like juice to me. There’s no way I could get drunk from it.”

Famous last words.

I woke up the next morning to the sharp noise of someone knocking on my door. It took me a moment to get my bearings and to remember where I was. Sonoma. Vineyard. Troi and Nik’s wedding.

It took another moment to realize why my head was pounding. Hunter was here.

The knocking at my door didn’t let up.

“I’m gonna break down this door if you don’t open it,” came Troian’s voice from the other side of the door.

I smacked my lips together. My mouth was dry. “Coming,” I croaked.