The airplane icon moved slowly but steadily, tracking across the screen set into the seat in front of her. Jacinda ran a finger over the blue expanse of the Pacific, from the small islands of New Zealand at bottom left, to where the States loomed on the right. The distance was greater than pixels on a screen, or miles across an ocean. It was the distance between the future she’d almost had, and the future that awaited her in reality.
She sighed and leaned back, looking out the window to where daylight was fading on the horizon. It was going to be a long flight, especially knowing what she’d find at the other end. At least she hadn’t gotten on board and discovered Lainey Kingsley sitting across the aisle.
And there was one thing she could do to pass the time. She pulled out her laptop and set it on the tray table in front of her. She’d been struggling with the chapters she was supposed to write for the book, but now she knew what to write. It wasn’t what they’d asked for, exactly—but it would be the most honest advice she could give any young woman starting out. She opened the document, and started over.
After dragging through customs at LA airport, Jacinda put on a baseball cap, pulled the brim down low over her sunglasses, and stepped out into arrivals. In almost any other city, walking out in sunglasses would make you more conspicuous, not less. But this was LA—she’d be just one of many.
Hannah had replied to her text before she left, promising that a car would be there for her, and saying that the driver would be looking for a passenger called Shelley Breeze. Jacinda had laughed at her clever choice of name, and hoped like hell that Ms. Breeze would get out undetected. Now she looked at the line-up of drivers holding signs, searching for her own.
Just as she caught sight of it, she heard someone shout her name. But not Ms. Breeze, and not Jacinda Prescott.
“Cin! Cin Scott!”
She veered toward her driver like a fox dodging hounds, but there was no escape. Within a moment she was being jostled by reporters, flashes going off around her as bystanders gawped at the commotion.
“Is it true?” one of them asked, thrusting a mike in front of her. “Did your teenage lover commit suicide when you left him?”
“Why are you sleeping with his brother now?” another called, trying to elbow closer.
She put her head down and silently plowed on, her heart going like a jackhammer in her chest as they milled around her. When she reached the driver, he took her suitcase in one hand and put the other arm around her, shielding her from the onslaught.
“Come with me,” he said.
And she did. He was tall and strong, and tucked close against him, she was sheltered from the physical danger. But he couldn’t protect her from the questions that kept flying, each one tearing her more apart.
“What do you have to say to your fans?”
“What about the baby?”
“Did you have an abortion?”
With the paparazzi swarming around, they made it to the car, and the driver helped her in. She breathed out with relief as the door slammed shut, and the shouting was suddenly muffled. The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the melee behind. Then, behind the tinted windows, shut off from the driver’s seat, she leaned back, rested her head against the seat, and let herself cry. Just one time. For everything that might have been, but never was. And never would be.
Then, as they hit the freeway, she sat up straight, blew her nose, and got out her phone to call Hannah and let her know they were on the way. Now, she’d have to be strong.
When they arrived to collect Hannah, she was waiting by the front door with her bags packed. Jacinda went up the steps and pulled her into a fierce hug.
“I’m so sorry about Todd,” she told her. “That shithead.”
A tiny laugh erupted from her friend. “Yeah. And I’m sorry about Liam.”
They took a step back, and smiled at each other. God, it was good to see Hannah again—but the guarded pain in her eyes was obvious. Jacinda shook her head. “Men.”
“Right?” Hannah threw up her hands. “And the moral of this story is, we’re better off without them.”
“They don’t deserve us.”
“Ex-actly,” Hannah agreed.
“Yeah. We don’t need them.”
Then the driver came and picked up Hannah’s bags, easily lifting all three at once and carrying them down to the car. They watched him go.
“Apart from the ones who carry our bags, maybe,” Jacinda clarified, as he effortlessly hoisted them into the trunk.
Hannah laughed. “I missed you.”
“Ditto.” She tipped her head toward the front door. “Is he home?”
“No. He’s been spending most of his time at the office.”
Jacinda took her hand. “And you won’t be here when he gets back. Let’s get out of here.”
Jacinda pushed the last morsel of apple pie around her plate as Hannah concentrated on the screen, thoughtfully sipping from her wine glass as she read. Finally, she put the glass down and looked at Jacinda across the table.
“This isn’t what you signed up to write,” she said, gesturing to the laptop.
Jacinda bit her lip. “I know.” God, she hadn’t realized how nerve-wracking it would be having someone else read your writing.
But then Hannah smiled. “This is way better than what you signed up to write.”
“Really? Thanks.” She grinned. “I couldn’t find a way into it originally, but once I started thinking about that, it seemed like the only way to go. I wrote it all on the flight back.”
She’d kind of stuck to the brief—two chapters offering advice to female singers and musicians wanting to get started and move ahead in the industry. It just wasn’t the kind of uplifting, jazz-hands tone the publisher had in mind. Nothing was sugar-coated—but it was empowering. With clear-eyed honesty, she’d set out the pitfalls alongside the pluses, encouraging young women to stand up for themselves, and others.
Which reminded her of something.
“By the way, I’m going to talk to Mitchell about Greg,” she said.
Hannah made an O with her lips. “Really?”
Mitchell Dunn was the head of Altitude Records. Jacinda hadn’t spent a lot of time with him, but she knew he wasn’t a man to be toyed with. She didn’t know how he’d react to being told straight up about Greg’s misdemeanors…but she’d find out soon enough.
“Yeah.” She frowned. “I don’t know how many other women he might have treated that way. I have to say something.”
“I’ll back you all the way,” Hannah said. “You know that.”
“Thanks.”
“Whatever happens,” Hannah added, an indirect acknowledgement that things might not go smoothly.
Jacinda blew her friend a kiss from the other side of the table. She didn’t mention the other question—whether Todd would also back her all the way, even though he knew what had been going on. If he wasn’t her manager anymore—which she and Hannah had yet to decide on—he’d be more likely to take Greg’s side than hers, for the sake of his other acts. Time would tell.
She stood up. “Come on, let’s go sit in the comfy seats.”
“Oh, I’m ready for that,” Hannah said, patting her stomach.
It had been a night of ups and downs. Hannah had told her about the phone call, and how Todd had come home to find her waiting with the bitter truth—and not denied it. Recounting that night, she was stoic, and Jacinda could tell she was determined to be strong and professional. The three of them were tied together in business just as much as by friendship, or marriage. Untangling the three threads of their triangle might not be easy, especially if Todd decided to play hard ball. Jacinda had seen him do that often enough on her behalf—and she wouldn’t put it past him to do it now.
After that, they’d gone online to see how far the story about Jacinda’s South Pacific summers—then and now—had spread. The answer was, pretty much everywhere. And sure enough, people were filling in the blanks, the comment sections full of speculation, fake facts, and the kind of gleeful meanness that spread like a rash online. Here and there, people commented in her defense, but they were definitely outnumbered.
Jacinda had sat back, chewing her thumbnail as she tried not to react. She was used to being in the public eye, and criticism was nothing new. But this made her feel so…exposed. She hadn’t even got to grips with it all herself—with the new, fragile relationship between her and Liam, and the past that both divided and connected them—before it was splashed all over the internet. She wondered if her father was reading it, nodding as it confirmed his long-held opinion of her. And, she realized, she’d better call her mom. This was the last thing she needed.
Thanks a lot, Liam. And Lainey.
She sighed as she scrolled through the comments section of yet another click-baity website, below the picture of Liam at the night markets, and herself under siege at the airport. “I guess we knew this would happen.”
“We did, unfortunately,” Hannah said. “But people will move on to the next scandal before long.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so,” she said firmly, shifting the laptop away. “Don’t read any more. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
So they’d quit Google and talked some more about everything that had happened while they were apart, shed tears over things gone badly, and laughed through those tears as they settled back into the warmth of their friendship.
Thank God for women friends, Jacinda thought now as they cleared the dessert from the table, leaving the dishes for later. She’d been lucky enough to make some in Sweet Breeze Bay too. What would they all be doing right now? She looked at the clock on the microwave. It was getting late here, so it would be early evening there now, but the next day. It was weird to think of them all there, getting on with things in the future.
For a moment, she let herself wonder if Liam was getting on with things. If he was reading everything online, trying to hold it together, like she was. And if he was feeling guilty about being the one who handed Lainey her scoop.
Part of her hoped so.
The other part of her missed him so much it hurt.
Hannah went past, carrying the bottle of wine. “I call dibs on the corner.”
They both sprang into action, aiming for the corner of the couch that was undoubtedly the best seat in the house. There was a table alongside for drinks and snacks, it was closest to the kitchen (and thus the fridge), and it had a premium view out to the lights of LA.
They were almost there, with Hannah slightly ahead, when Jacinda heard her phone ring, and looked over her shoulder. Her hesitation cost her the seat.
“That doesn’t count,” she said, as she went to see who was calling. “I call a do-over.”
She’d switched back to her American phone. After checking with Danielle, she’d left her little New Zealand one with Sam, and the memory of his face when she gave it to him still made her laugh. She smiled as she picked up the phone and saw it was a New Zealand number calling. Maybe Sam had his new SIM card and was calling to let her know.
“Hello?” she said.
There was a brief silence, then Liam said, “Hi.”
Shock knocked the words out of her, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat. Taken aback, she looked at Hannah, sitting in the coveted corner spot.
“Who is it?” Hannah whispered.
She pointed at the phone, and silently mouthed, “It’s him.”
Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise, and Jacinda nodded.
“Are you there?” Liam said, his voice uncertain.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m here.”
And she waited to hear what he had to say.