Tessa laughed at herself when she got ready later that day to pick up a few things for dinner. She did not look at all like the glamorous woman in the clips and photos online. Today, she had her hair in a ponytail, an old baseball cap jammed on top, and sunglasses hiding her eyes. Not a scrap of makeup, and no one would call her jeans and T-shirt designer.
Arch had said I love you, not to the glamorous woman last night, but to the one she was looking at now in the mirror. Ordinary, everyday Tessa. He’d said those magic words over and over as they’d made love. And had she thrown herself into his arms and said them back? Like any normal woman who felt the way she did would have?
No. She hadn’t.
Couldn’t.
She’d been wrong before, thinking she was in love with a man who’d turned out to be cold and controlling. And though Arch was the opposite, there was a part of her—a deep, sensitive, frightened part—that couldn’t accept the love of a good man. A part of her that thought she wasn’t good enough for him. That there surely must be someone better for him. Someone from his glittering world.
She didn’t want to say I love you until she could do it with her heart open and unafraid. After she got the groceries, she’d get out her paints. Hopefully, a few hours at the beach would calm her and bring clarity.
Maybe she’d make something extra special for dinner, something romantic, and if she found the words, she’d tell Arch tonight.
Because she did love him.
She’d known it for weeks. And for weeks she’d let fear be stronger than love. At the beach with her paints, would she finally find her way to taking such a massive risk as telling Archer Davenport that she loved him?
Waiting in line with fresh milk, a couple of avocados, and a lemon, she noticed that one of the gossipy papers in the rack in the checkout line featured a photo of Archer and her at the awards ceremony.
Two women ahead of her were chatting while they waited. One said, “Archer Davenport is so handsome. And he’s so down-to-earth for a movie star. He has a place here in Carmel, you know.”
Tessa was secretly thrilled that neither of them noticed that the woman in the picture was standing right behind them. She couldn’t wait to tell him. He’d laugh so hard.
Then the second woman pointed to the photo of Tessa. “Who’s that? His new co-star? I haven’t seen her before.”
Her friend said, “I read online that she’s his new girlfriend. I don’t even think she’s an actress.”
The second woman picked up the paper and studied the photo more closely. “I’m surprised he would dump Sonia Montefiore for someone like this. This girl is so ordinary. I bet she’s a struggling actress, and he did her a favor. They do that in Hollywood, you know.”
That moment was all it took for Tessa’s dream to die.
The two women were right—and they were literally speaking her fears out loud.
Why would he want to be with someone so ordinary when he could have a gorgeous movie star who understood his world and knew how to stand on a red carpet without being coached?
All the sunshine had gone out of her day. And she wasn’t sure it would ever come back.
She got home with the groceries, and when he said, “Do you want coffee? I was just going to make some,” she blurted, “I can’t do it. I can’t be with you.”
Arch turned, holding on to the kitchen counter for support. He searched her face, looking both puzzled and sad. “Why? What happened between your going out for milk and coming home?”
But all she could do was shake her head. “I can’t talk about it right now. I need some time.” She didn’t even unpack the groceries. She simply walked up the stairs to her bedroom, trying not to cry. Trying not to scream with frustration. Trying not to wish that she didn’t love Archer Davenport.
But Arch didn’t wait. He followed her upstairs. “Tessa. Please. Talk to me.”
“I can’t,” she told him again. “Not yet.”
And even as he stood in her doorway, she pulled out her paints and easel and taped up a blank piece of paper. And like a waterfall, all of her emotions poured out onto it. It was like a huge crying fit made of blue, black, purple, and a thick, furious red. There was no subject, no focus. She wasn’t normally an abstract painter, but she didn’t care. She just let the feelings flow through her arm, through her brush.
She had no idea how much time passed before she finally ran out of steam. She might actually have collapsed right then and there if Arch hadn’t come up behind her to hold her up. To be her strength when she had none. To be her calm when all she’d known in her marriage was fury. To be the embodiment of love when love had never truly been hers before now. Before coming to Carmel-by-the-Sea.
Before Arch.
“I don’t know much about art, but I know pain when I see it,” he said as he gently turned her in his arms to face him. “Your painting pretty much expresses how I feel right now too. I love you so damned much, Tessa. Please tell me what happened to make you feel this way.”
There was no point in lying. She told him what she’d overheard at the store.
“And don’t say it was only two strangers whose opinions don’t matter. It’s what everyone will say. And it’s true. You could be with anyone. You’re grateful because I helped you heal. One day, you’ll realize that’s what you’re feeling. Gratitude, not love.”
Though she could tell that her words had angered him, he didn’t pull away. If anything, he drew her closer. “Don’t tell me what I feel,” he said. “I know my own damn feelings. Am I grateful to you for taking care of me? Of course I am. Just like I’m grateful to the woman who cleans my house, or the woman who does my taxes. I’m grateful to the women who pretend to love me on-screen, because they’re good actresses, but I don’t love any of them. I don’t think of them when I wake up. I don’t want to hold them in my arms when I drift to sleep. I don’t want to have children with them. I don’t want to choose a damn dog with them. I want those things with you. Only you, Tessa. Only you.”
When she would have tried to protest, he held up a hand so she found herself listening carefully, to hear the truth.
“Once and for all, I’m telling you that Sonia Montefiore and I were never an item. You are the woman I’ve waited for my whole life. Ask my family, if you don’t believe me. Even though we tried to keep it a secret, they all know I’m hopelessly in love with you.”
“But I don’t belong on a red carpet.”
“If it will make you feel more comfortable, then I will make a promise to you now that you never have to go to another of those things with me again.”
She waved her hands in frustration. “It’s not the red carpet. It’s what it means. It’s everything.”
A voice boomed out from below. “How’s my wingman today? Valentina and I are heading out tomorrow. Came over to say good-bye.”
Like most of Arch’s friends and family, Smith Sullivan hadn’t bothered to knock.
Arch said, “I’ll tell him to go. We are not finished here.”
“No. Have a visit with your friend. I need to think. Please, Arch. I need some time.”
And though it was clearly the very last thing he wanted in the world, he took her at her word and gave her space and time.