She lifts an eyebrow, tightening her hold on my arm as we walk. “And I’m always happy to give it.”
Here goes nothing. “But you’re not allowed to hate this one.”
She gasps. “That’s not fair. This ismything!”
“No, this ismything.” Turning to the wall of people toting cameras, I smile and praise our timing. Red carpets can be unpredictable, but I’ve been through this enough to have planned for this pause.
Donovan smiles for photos with me, then steps aside to allow the press some individual shots. I can see her out of the corner of my eye as sheprocesses what I told her, and when it’s time for us to move forward, she looks ready to argue my claim.
I speak again before she can. “You could have been in this one with me, and you chose not to,” I remind her.
She won’t admit it out loud, but she regrets turning down the offer to join the cast ofThe Long Run, the whitewater film premiering tonight. Mostly, I think a lot of her regret stems from the fact that I banned her from coming on set when we were filming last summer, something she still brings up now and then, almost a year later.
“You’ll spend the whole time telling me how I’m doing everything wrong,” I complained every time she tried to convince me to let her come.
“Yeah, because you’ll be doing everything wrong!” she argued.
Considering I only had the one week to practice rowing, she was right, which is exactly the reason I kept her away. I’ve gotten better about allowing myself to make mistakes, even accepting outright failure, but whitewater rafting means so much to Donovan that the pressure was already overwhelming. Having her as a witness to my ineptitude would have been crushing, and I generally try not to give her reasons to give up on me.
Donovan keeps quiet about the movie as we make our way down the red carpet to the theater, which might actually be worse than having an argument about whether or not she’s allowed to have an opinion on the film. Life is easier when she’s open and honest, which thankfully is the norm. This isn’t the first premiere she’s come to, but it’s the one that worries me most.
Inside the theater, we meet up with my costars and the director at the front of the seats, all of us offering hugs and congratulations for making it this far. People figured out pretty quickly why I was in Moab two years ago, and suddenly everyone wanted to make a whitewater movie. Sarah, the director, thought about moving up production to beat the wave,but I convinced her to stick to her original plan and give the story the attention it deserves.
Three low-budget whitewater movies have been released in the last year, and all of them flopped, to the point where Donovan started joking about not joining me tonight because she can’t subject herself to another bad river movie.
Hence me telling her that she can’t hate this one.
As I introduce her to the director and other crew members, Donovan is all smiles despite the tension in her shoulders, a clear sign that she’s nervous to watch the movie. “I’ve been anticipating this movie for a long time,” she tells the director, which isn’t a lie. She just fails to mention how much she’s apparently expecting it to flop like the others.
“And this,” I say, giving her a warning look as we move on, “is Jonah James.”
She rolls her eyes at me, hearing the gruffness of my tone. “Just because Jonah James is my favorite actor, it doesn’t mean I love you any less.”
Jonah’s eyebrows jump high, and he can’t seem to decide if he should laugh or grimace as he stands frozen, halfway to offering his hand for Donovan to shake. “Favorite?” he repeats, meeting my gaze. “Really?”
I sigh. “She’s messing with me, but she did love you inFrosted Peaks.”
“Yes!” Donovan says and smiles wide, grabbing his hand even though he’s still standing stiff. “You were incredible!”
“He really was,” Jonah’s wife, June, agrees from behind him, slipping her arm into his and joining our little group. “Derek, it’s nice to see you again.”
Giving June a genuine smile, I wrap my arm around Donovan’s waist and pull her against my side so she stops pumping Jonah’s hand with overdone enthusiasm. “June. This is my wife, Donovan Tate.”
“I still can’t believe you married Nova Tate,” Jonah says, finally relaxing. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve restrained Donovan or because he has June next to him, but hopefully now we can be normal. But I neverknow what to expect with Donovan, which I honestly kind of love; she has a knack for keeping me on my toes and making me feel like I’m brand new to Hollywood.
With her, it’s way harder to get stuck in an endless, monotonous loop, and each day feels more like a gift than the last.
“Yeah, he’s incredibly lucky,” Donovan says with a laugh, dropping her head onto my shoulder and smirking up at me. “I’m pretty amazing.”
I roll my eyes. She can pretend all she wants that the arrogant and entitled teen she once was is still in there somewhere, but even in the thick of Hollywood, like at events like these, she’s still her kind, easygoing self. Still the woman I fell for on the banks of a river in Utah.
Kissing the top of her head, I hold her tighter as I murmur, “In every way.”
Donovan squeezes my side.
“Well,” Jonah says with a look at June that seems to mirror my thoughts about Donovan, “are we ready for this thing?” He’s been nervous since I brought him on to this project—even as an indie film, it’s become bigger than most of the projects he usually does now that I’ve backed it as a producer. But he was phenomenal as my scene partner and elevated the whole story with his performance.
He made a name for himself when he starred with Bonnie in a romantic suspense a couple of years ago, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this movie earns him an Oscar nomination. Maybe even a win.
