“Fuck the paperwork.” I stalk off and slide into the first UTV with keys inside.
“What the hell, Zander? We might need reshoots. You haven’t even looked at the tape yet.”
“You got the take. It’s fine. Jack, you good?” I shout to the co-director.
Jack gives me a thumbs-up. “We’re good.”
“See, Beau?”
He blows out a breath in frustration. He thinks I don’t know what I want, but I do. I’ve just been too chickenshit to go after it until now.
I check The Knotted Barn, and Romy’s not there. She’s not at The Getaway Lodge either. Finally, I knock on her door at the house. As I’m walking down the porch steps, trying to figure out where else Romy might be, a yellow Jeep with giant daisies on it pulls up.
Great, this is not what I want to deal with right now.
Poppy climbs out of the Jeep. “Hey, Mr. Country Superstar. What’s up?”
“Do you know where she is?”
She sighs as if I just ruined her night. “All right, you’ll probably only hear this once from me, so pay attention. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Romy was pregnant. I get it now, and it’s a little endearing, I suppose. But don’t treat her like a baby bird who needs you to survive, okay?”
“So, you don’t hate me anymore?” I raise my eyebrows.
Poppy rolls her eyes. “She’s at Uncle Bruce’s, helping with Ben and Gillian’s wedding. She’s putting the arch up today.”
I jog toward the UTV. “Is this your way of making up for hating me, Poppy?”
“Maybe. But I’ll tell you this, Zander Shaw. If you fuck with her emotions, you’ll have me to answer to. So before you drive off, I suggest you know what the hell you want.”
“Believe me, I do. You don’t need to worry, Poppy.”
“I hope so. I’d hate to kick your ass and get arrested for breaking your nose.”
I point at my nose. “That’s all right. It’s been broken twice before.”
“Yeah, it looks a little crooked,” she says.
I floor the gas pedal, speeding down the path toward Romy’s Uncle Bruce’s place.
When I get there, Romy’s in the yard in front of the arch, standing on a step stool—which she knows will piss me off. She’s putting up the flowers for Ben and Gillian’s wedding that’s in two days.
“Romy.”
She doesn’t look at me, attaching flowers to the arch.
“Romy,” I say again, walking closer.
She finally glances over her shoulder and pops out her AirPods. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. What are you doing here?”
“Why did you leave the set again?”
“Everything looked great. You and Zara—chemistry for days. You didn’t need my help or opinion.”
I step closer. The distance between us suddenly feels unbearable. My voice drops low. “You know it’s just a video. It’s not real.”
“Yeah, I know.” But she looks away from me.
I laugh bitterly. “Doesn’t seem like you know.”
