They both laughed, and in the heat of the moment, Lizanne reached out and touched Rose’s forearm. Her cool fingers wrapped around her forearm, her thumb caressing her skin.
The touch sent a jolt through her—sharp and electric. And it had surprised Rose; that was evident from the way she jerked, spilling her wine across the white cloth.
“Oh dear,” Rose said and got up. As she did, she swayed and grabbed onto Lizanne, who held on to her to keep her from tipping over.
“I think that wine went down quicker than we anticipated.”
“I think so. I… I don’t think I should drive.”
Lizanne shrugged. “We can share an Uber back.”
“No, I need my car…” Rose ran her tongue over her purple lips and Lizanne’s heart shuddered.
“I’ll call my brother, Quinn,” Rose said, her voice shaky. “I’ll be right back.” She retreated to the bathroom, leavingLizanne to stand where she was, suddenly not sure what the hell she was doing.
She took a deep breath. “I’ll just head to the upstairs bathroom,” she called after Rose, who raised a hand to acknowledge she’d heard her.
Chapter 7
Lizanne
The bathroom at Luna de Sangre was a sanctuary of cool tile and dim lighting, a sharp contrast to the golden, wine-soaked haze of the patio. Lizanne stood over the farmhouse sink, the antique brass fixtures humming as she turned the handle. She cupped the frigid water in her palms and pressed it against her face, holding it there until the skin went numb.
What are you doing?
The question echoed in the quiet of the small room. Touching Rose’s arm had been a reflex, a desperate reach for the warmth of the first genuine laugh she’d shared with another person in months. But the jolt that had followed—that sharp, electric spark that had made Rose spill her wine—wasn’t part of the script. Lizanne was a professional. She spent her life mimicking chemistry on camera with leading men she often couldn’t stand, but this was different. This felt uncomfortably, dangerously real.
She stared at her reflection in the spotted mirror. She looked like Lizanne Connors, the woman the world wanted: polished, even in a slight state of inebriation. But beneath the surface, there was a growing hollow. She and Trina had been theitcouple for six years, but lately, theitfelt more like a business. Their conversations had flattened into a series of logistical hand-offs.Did the caterer call? What time is the red carpet?
It wasn’t fair to compare a six-year partnership to a spark with a wedding planner she barely knew. Relationships evolved;they settled. But as Lizanne leaned against the sink, she couldn’t ignore the stinging realization that Trina hadn’t even stayed for the wine. The most important day of their lives was being treated like a chore Trina had to delegate so she could get back to the studio.
After splashing water on her face, she sat in the chair in the waiting room outside the wine tasting room. She saw Rose talking to the owner and Lizanne indicated she’d just be sitting here, doom scrolling while Rose was doing whatever she was doing. Hopefully the trip to the bathroom had sobered her up enough to negotiate on Lizanne’s behalf.
Lizanne scrolled through her emails, checked the Gilden Duchess group chat to see what her co-stars were up to now that they were on hiatus, and then logged into Instagram. There, she checked for any hints of Derek Jones again.
A generic name like that meant he was impossible to find. She tried Google and added an assortment of words. Entertainment lawyer, corporate law, LA, Derek Jones + Rose Delaney + Coachella…
A sharp, rhythmic knock startled her.
“Lizanne? It’s Rose. The ride is here.”
How long had she been sitting here? It was at least a twenty-minute drive from the Hollywood Hills to here. Trina had exaggerated when she’d claimed it took an hour, still… She glanced at the clock on her phone and realized she had been sitting there for almost 30 minutes.
Lizanne took one last breath, smoothed her hair, and stepped out into the evening air. The sun was dipping below the vine-covered hills, and the view was just as spectacular aspromised. Waiting near the tasting room was a man who looked like he’d stepped off a rugged outdoor apparel catalog. He was tall, with a lopsided grin and eyes that held the same sharp astuteness as Rose’s, though his were framed by a mess of dark hair.
“This is my brother, Quinn,” Rose said.
Lizanne blinked, her brain foggy from the four glasses of red. She looked from Rose to this towering, broad-shouldered man. “You two don’t look anything alike,” she noted, her filter long gone.
Quinn let out a hearty laugh, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the quiet valley. He opened the back door to Rose’s car. “I take after dad.”
Lizanne settled into the back seat, the scent of leather filling the cabin. They climbed in, though Quinn exited again, walked to the front door and picked up a brown bag. Upon returning, he placed the bag on the center console. He reached inside and pulled out a bunch of popcorn, munching on it while placing the key in the ignition with his free hand.
“Quinn, are you kidding me?” Rose’s voice was a harsh whisper. She was staring at a large, crinkled bag of white cheddar popcorn sitting in the center console. “You’re getting kernels all over the upholstery. I just had this car detailed.”
“I haven’t eaten since six AM, Rosie, cut me some slack. Besides, a little cheddar dust never killed anyone. It adds character.”
“It adds a cleaning fee!” Rose swatted at his hand as he reached for a fistful.
