I also promised Sadie I would call the Realtor about the building for sale on Main Street. I’m still not convinced it’s viable, but she’s right that it won’t hurt to look into it.
But as much as I need a day off to get things done, I don’t want one. I’d rather spend time with Ronan and Belle, which is dangerous to my heart.
At 4:00 p.m., Belle asks me again when her dad will be home. I suggest a game of War to distract her. War lasts approximately one billion years, so it will keep us busy until he arrives.
But at 5:00 p.m., as it gets darker out, I tell her he must be delayed.
I’d texted him earlier and I keep checking my phone for a response. But there’s nothing.
At 6:00 p.m., we make dinner. She creates place cards for each of us, carefully decorating the cards and writing our names. I even help her light the candles.
At 7:00 p.m., I give up waiting for him. We eat dinner by candlelight, with me asking Belle cheerful questions. Her happy chat has dwindled to nothing, and she answers me in one-word answers.
He seemed so certain that he’d be home early. Objectively, I know it isn’t his fault he has to work. Even I, someone who knows nothing about how movies are made, realize that their schedules are inherently chaotic. But he’d said he’d be home, and he knows how much Belle has missed him.
That’s when I do what I know to be a bad idea. But I can’t help myself. I check social media to see if his fan sites have any information on filming today. I started this habit last week, sitting in my room alone at night. I feel guilty every time I look. It’s like I’m spying on him, which I kind of am. ButThe Wanderers’fans are up on every detail of the stars’ lives and the movie’s production schedule. Normally, there is little news about Ronan. His fandom is remarkably drama-free, just like the star. But today, when I type in his name, photo after photo appears of him with a beautiful brunette wrapped around his large body. The photos, the fans say, are from today.
I read, and my heart sinks as I recognize the woman. She’s a famous model. If you believe the superfans, she and Ronan are dating. Some fans hate her, some love her, most call her his friend-with-benefits.
The cast and crew are celebrating someone’s birthday with shots of Patrón. And the model-girlfriend-friend either has a small part in the movie or is on set visiting Ronan, depending on who you believe. The one thing everyone onThe Wanderers’social media agrees is that Ronan is definitely getting some action, in bed or in his trailer.
I slam my phone down and decide, for my mental health, I won’t waste a moment more searching for information on Ronan Masters or worrying about what he’s doing. I don’t know him at all, no matter what I tricked myself into believing. And this is a good reminder. Belle is what’s important, and I need to do damage control. Taking her mind off the fact that both her mother and apparently her father are douche canoes.
At 8:00 p.m., Belle is fresh from her bath and cozy in her pajamas as we read her favorite book,Anti-Princess. ReadingAnti-Princessin her very princess room is somewhat ironic.
A door slams, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Belle sits up, listening.
“Sounds like your dad is home,” I say in as bright a voice as I can muster, shutting the book with a loud snap. Nothing good will come of me showing my irritation.
Belle frowns and sinks back down in her bed. “Please keep reading.”
“Your dad can finish the story.”
She burrows farther under the covers and pets her stuffed puppy. “He’s too busy, just like my mother. She always said she was too busy to read to me, too. She said that’s why we have a nanny.”
I squelch the urge to stalk downstairs and hit Ronan over the head with theAnti-Princessbook. I’d also like to say a few choice words to Belle’s mom, as well.
“That’s not true, Belle. Your dad loves spending time with you.”
“I don’t want him to read me a story. I don’t need him.” It’s all the more heartbreaking because she doesn’t say it angrily. She says it with simple resignation.
Belle deserves better than this. I thought Ronan was better, but clearly, I was wrong. I’ve given him the benefit of the doubt this whole time, trying to tell him how much his daughter misses him in a gentle way, assuming he was trying his best. But perhaps I’ve done them both a disservice.
The door creaks, and I turn to see Ronan standing silently in the doorway. His crystal eyes are opaque, his mouth in a tense line. At his expression, I realize he’s heard what his daughter just said.
Our eyes clash, and then as quietly as he arrived, he shuts the door with a soft click. “Wait,” I say, but it’s too late. He’s gone.
“I’ve been waiting all day,” Belle says in a wavering voice. “I just want you to finish the story.”
“But your dad—” And I realize she hasn’t seen him and doesn’t know he was in her room.
“He has more important things to do,” she says matter-of-factly.
Anger flows through me. Did Ronan have me fooled? I thought he was a genuinely good guy. The way he braided his daughter’s hair. The way he carried Belle and looked at her with such softness that first night we met. He hadn’t seemed like the typical Hollywood playboy. When we spoke, he expressed regret and frustration about his busy schedule, and I believed him. But the man I thought he was is not the same man who would disappoint his little girl in order to party with a model.
And instead of making things right, he retreats when confronted with the consequences of his actions.
