CHAPTER ONE
“Can you celebrate and mourn at the same time?”
“Yes.” My friend Natalie raises her bright pink Cosmo in a one-sided toast before taking a sip. “You can mourn the loss of a marriage you thought would last forever while also celebrating the fact you’re now free from your cheating rat-bastard ex.”
My lips twitch. Nat has always had a way with words.
“It’s a…somber celebration. An earnest observance, if you will,” she continues.
“Well, whatever it is, I’ll drink to it.” I raise my martini glass and she clinks hers against it. My eyes drift to my left hand, which once held a stunning diamond ring paired with a diamond-studded wedding band. Both are now tucked away in the bottom of my mom’s old jewelry box. I should pawn them and donate the money to charity. Or better yet, sell them online; people would pay a fortune for rings bought by the famous Alan Goodwin.
“Ugh, I’ve already lost you.” Natalie downs the rest of her Cosmo while signaling for the waitress. “No maudlin thoughts tonight, remember? No straying into the past. It may be a solemn celebration, but it’s a celebration nonetheless. We’re here to get you drunk and find you someone to go home with.”
“No,” I say forcefully, startling the waitress who’s just approached our table. I give her a rueful smile while Nat orders us another round. “No,” I repeat once our server has returned to the bar. “I agreed to the drinking, but I’m not finding some random guy to hook up with.”
“Joss, comeon. You’d have no trouble picking up any guy you want in this place.” She casts a glance around the crowded bar, her gaze stopping more than once, brows lifting in appreciation at whoever catches her eye. She gives her head a shake, returning her attention to me. “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone—”
“Don’t say it, please don’t say it.”
“—Is to get under someone else,” she barrels on as if I hadn’t spoken.
I can’t help but laugh. “Who came up with that anyway?”
Natalie shrugs, grinning at the waitress as she returns and hands Nat her third Cosmo of the night. I thank her when she sets my martini in front of me.
“Who knows? What Idoknow is it works. I’m not suggesting you marry the next guy you meet. Hell, I’m not even suggesting youdatehim. Just find yourself a hottie, revel in a night of no-strings passion, and enjoy the reminder that you’re a sexy woman in her prime, and Alan is a loser asshole for leaving you for someone else.”
Despite knowing her words are meant to be light and funny, they sting. I don’t need to be reminded that my husband left me for another woman. Ayoungerwoman. Such a cliché. “Well, I appreciate that, but I have something else in mind.”
“Oh? Do tell.” She leans forward, elbows on the table. She’s going to be mighty disappointed when she learns my plan doesn’t involve rebound sex. Or any sex at all.
“Seeing as I’m between projects right now, and with the dreaded holiday season approaching, I thought this would be the perfect time for a little…escape.”
“Escape,” Natalie repeats. If it weren’t for the Botox she got earlier in the week, I imagine her forehead would be creasing in confusion right now. “What does that mean? Where? And for how long?”
I take a deep breath, followed by a gulp of my cocktail. I already know what Nat is going to think of this plan, so I need fortification. “One of my neighbors was telling me about how her daughter rents a cottage for a week or so every December in a place a few hours north of here called Honeywell Hollow. She’s a writer, and she goes there for some peace and quiet to get a bunch of work done before the end of the year. It got me thinking maybe I could do the same. Except instead of working, I’d have a break from being recognized everywhere I go and being accosted by people ranging from sympathetic to nosy to downright obnoxious.”
“So you basically want to run away?” Natalie says.
I swallow a sigh. I knew that was how she’d see it. I love Nat, but one of the traits of her larger-than-life personality includes thinking she knows what’s best for everyone. I’m about to reply when a shock of red hair catches the corner of my eye. A pretty young woman hovers nearby, clutching her phone to her chest.
“Itisyou,” she says, smiling so wide I can see almost all her teeth. “My friends said there was no way it was you, but it is. YouareJosslyn Hazelwood, right?”
I don’t even have to fake a smile; hers is so genuinely excited, it’s infectious. “I am. What’s your name?”
She lets out a high-pitched giggle that has my grin spreading. I’ve encountered this before: it’s part‘I can’t believe she just asked my name’and part‘oh my god, did I just forget my own name?’I may be weary of my job, but I’m grateful for my fans. They’re the reason Ihavea job.
“Veronica,” she says, sticking out her hand. I slide my hand into her clammy one and she pumps it enthusiastically, her megawatt smile still firmly in place. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t come say hi. And, um, maybe ask for a selfie? If that’s okay?”
“It’s no bother, honestly. And we can do better than a selfie.” I slide off my stool and hold my hand out for her phone. “I’ll have my friend take our picture. That work for you?”
“Yes!” Veronica glances quickly at Natalie, but doesn’t seem to recognize her. That could be because, unlike me, Nat actuallyworksat being incognito when she goes out. Tonight she’s not Natalie Huang, one of Canada’s most famous actresses, she’s Hipster Nat, with a pair of fake dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and her signature long black hair contained under an oversized beanie. I seem to get recognized no matter what I do, especially this time of year once the Christmas movies I’m best known for start airing, so I’ve stopped trying to fly under the radar.
Natalie snaps several pictures, then hands the phone back with a smile. “I think I got a few good ones.”
“Thank you so much.” Veronica’s arms practically twitch at her sides. I know she wants to hug me, so I hold my arms out. She squeals as she wraps me in a quick, tight embrace. “Thank you! I can’t wait for your new movie. My friends and I are having a big viewing party when it airs. And I’m really sorry about you and Alan.” She winces and smacks herself on the forehead. “Shit, I probably shouldn’t have said that!”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, holding back a laugh. I’ve grown accustomed to many things from fans over the years, including uncontrollable word vomit. “I hope you like the new movie. It was nice meeting you.”
