“Beautiful women are a dime a dozen,” David said. “Does she have the sparkle it takes to make it on the big screen?”
“I have no idea. I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall, listening in on the conversation.”
“Her trying to sell herself. Robert trying to figure out if she has what it takes.”
“Or maybe he’s looking for a casual fling. I wonder if Caleb knows she’s hanging out with my ex.” Harlow thought about a comment one of the Mackies had made earlier, how they hadn’t seen Cheyenne and Caleb together recently.
Perhaps he’d decided she was too high maintenance. Or maybe she was the one who put the brakes on their relationship. Either way, it wasn’t any of her business. What Cheyenne, Caleb or even Robert did, except when it involved her career, was no concern of hers.
“Did you hear back about Lighthouse Lane?”
“Not a peep. Allie warned me it might take a couple of days because the sellers were traveling over the holidays,” she reminded him.
“I hope you get word soon. In the meantime, you can stay here for as long as you want. Forever would suit me fine.”
Harlow followed her father into the living room. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m looking forward to having a place of my own.”
“I know you are, and I completely understand. At least you won’t be on the other side of the country.”
“Yep. Patience. I’m trying to remind myself anything worth having requires patience,” Harlow said.
David stifled a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”
“I was thinking about calling it a day myself. Something tells me I’ll need to be rested for my meeting with Robert.”
*****
Harlow turned from side to side, critically eyeing her reflection in the full-length bedroom mirror. It had been a couple of months since she’d seen Robert. Weeks filled with peace, when she wasn’t stressed about the next big deal, traveling from home to home because her husband refused to stay in one place for long, always wanting to be on the move.
It had been absolutely blissful to sleep in the same bed, to wake up in the morning knowing she had nowhere to go and all day to get there.
Accustomed to living out of a suitcase for weeks, sometimes months at a time, the easy, laid-back island pace was what her mind and body craved, and the more she fell back into the island life, the less she wanted to leave.
Harlow knew the day would come when she would need to hop on a plane to LA to start her next big project. By then she would be ready…ready for the hustle and bustle, the glam and the glitz, but for now she was content. More than content.
Wearing a pale pink cashmere sweater and black stretch pants that accentuated her slender figure, fitting her curves to a“t” it was a style Harlow deemed casual chic, the perfect outfit for a light lunch with her manager.
She’d recently glimpsed snapshots of her in the rag magazines—stepping out of the post office, buying flowers from Noelle’s flower shop, juggling grocery bags while exiting the corner grocery store—all had made front-page headlines with equally titillating titles.
Harlow Wynn in seclusion after a heartbreaking divorce.
Shamed and humiliated, Harlow Wynn has gone into hiding after her husband / manager Robert Barbetz dumped her for a Brazilian model.
Hooked on prescription drugs, Harlow Wynn struggles to find work.
All slanderous and outrageous lies designed to sell. These types of stories were churned out daily, not only about Harlow but other stars. She’d long ago taken every single one she read with a grain of salt—or more like a super-shaker full.
Which is why she was becoming more aware of how she looked when venturing out in public. A mole…someone from a rag tabloid was embedded on the island, stealthily following Harlow around, snapping random photos to sell for big bucks.
There was another reason for Harlow’s carefully chosen outfit. Robert, to show him not only was she surviving, but thriving. Not that he would care, unless it reflected poorly on her superstar image. The only things her ex cared about were money, prestige, power and position.
She was marking the days on the calendar of when their contractual agreement ended, but for now, Harlow would do whatever it took to remain amicable and even friendly. Hence, her grudgingly agreeing to meet with him.
She grabbed her Brahmin crossbody bag and trekked to the door.
Her father, who was sitting in the living room reading, set the newspaper aside, giving her his full attention. “Heading out already?”
“I want to get there a few minutes early,” Harlow said. “The sooner we meet, the sooner I can escape.”
