“Anders.” This time my tone is stern. “You need to take this seriously. This will end badly for both of us.”
“Who says it’s going to end?”
He can’t see my glare, but it’s there. “Come on. Be serious.”
“I am not known for that.”
I know. “ANDERS.” This time I use the voice I’ve been using to get Hairy down from the couch.
“I promise everything is going to be good. Trust me. Now, on to a fun topic.” There are more scuffing sounds on his end, then he says, “We have a trip this weekend.”
I haven’t forgotten. We’re supposed to leave in just a couple of days. And because I’m Sunny Pratt I’ve already researched the weather, packed a bag and a backup bag in case the weather changes. I was supposed to invite a friend, but I haven’t. Maybe I chickened out. I don’t know. I do know that I’m relishing the idea of a few days alone in a quiet place where someone else makes my bed for me. The place where I’ll be staying is absurdly opulent. I have absolutely nothing to wear there, which means I’m doubling down on my plan to hole up in my room like a yeti, eating room service and reading. Dream vacation.
“Yep. I’m ready. And excited. Have I thanked you enough for this?”
“No thanks necessary” — he grunts — “from the woman taking care of my child.”
“Okay, I have to know what you’re doing over there. Moving furniture?”
He laughs through a grunt. “Working out in my living room. Tabata.” There’s another groan followed by a long exhale. “I took off my shirt. You’re missing a show.”
“You’ve been working out this whole time?” My laugh is incredulous, but a little too breathy. I can’t get the image of Anders doing whatever he’s doing, all shirtless and sweaty, out of my mind. I run my hand down my face. This has to stop. I try to joke to keep things light. “Celebrities. They arenotjust like us.”
His laugh is strained, probably from being mid-plank or something. “You think this body happened by accident?”
Absolutely not. “Okay, that’s my cue. Goodnight, Anders. Have fun working out while I get eight luxurious hours of sleep.”
20. Anders is a Decent Pilot
“It’s so far,” my daughter whines, literally dragging her jelly-clad feet. Imogen is not a fan of long walks and my plane is parked on the farthest end of the tarmac. It’s not that far, but she’s tired from staying up too late last night and an early morning ride to this small, regional airport. She must’ve finally adjusted to Mountain Standard Time right as we’re about to spend the weekend in a different time zone.
“Hop up, kiddo.” I crouch down so she can climb on my back.
This isn’t the day for a parental lecture on positivity or getting enough sleep. I just want to get in the air and get out of here. I stack Immy’s carry-on on top of mine. Sunny helps me buckle them together and the three of us continue toward my plane.
The days since the incident on set with sexy, wet swimsuit Sunny have been taxing. The work itself has been fine. My head is in the game. I’m feeling the part. The team is working well—all except for Micah. He’s about one snide comment away from a Will Smith-esque face slap from me. He can’t keep Sunny’s name out of his mouth, figuratively speaking. He can’t remember her name. The butthead just calls her Hot Nanny. And he has had plenty to say sinceher appearance on set, none of which bears repeating. The man has a filthy mouth when there are no cameras around.
A caveman-like protective instinct has me reach over to take Sunny’s hand at the memory. Her soft fingers lace through mine and everything feels okay.
“When you said you had a plane…” she starts.
“What?” I’m making her say it, because teasing Sunny is my new favorite hobby.
“I thought it would be…”
I smile and let some crickets chirp.
“Like, a big plane. I thought it would be some big ol’ pretentious jet, okay? Not…” She gestures toward our ride.
I act offended on behalf of my old Cessna. “She can hear you.”
She scoffs. “How did this thing get here, anyway?”
“I flew here in it with Ollie. It shaves off a few hours when we travel. It gives him more time to oil his hinges.” I shrug.
She looks even more confused. “And it’s just been sitting up here this whole time?”
“She’s a good plane. She stays where I put her.” I grin. “I promise, you’re going to love this.”
