Page 64 of All Signs Point to Malibu

A wave of guilt washes over me that I had a hand in putting an end to it...but it was going to end either way, even if I’d let him board the plane that day. I refuse to regret my actions.

Warren looks uncomfortable as he grips one of the tables stacked against a wall.

I continue looking at the items. His championship rings sparkle behind the glass. “Great career,” I say.

“Yeah. Wanna help?”

I pull my gaze away and join him. I take a deep breath and clear my throat. “I am really sorry about what happened that day in the airport.” I’m not sure I’ve ever truly apologized and he looks surprised to hear it now.

He sighs, looks like he wants to move on, but says, “You never did explain what that prank was about.”

How do I explain any better than I tried to that day? “I was afraid you were going to get hurt,” I say slowly. “I have a gut instinct about these things. It was probably the wrong way to go about it and I didn’t mean to ruin your career.”

Warren places his hands on his hips, his gaze drifting to the display case of accomplishments. “I could have tried again. It’s not all on you,” he says after a long pause.

“Why didn’t you?” I ask gently. I’m desperate to know, but afraid to spook him back into silent withdrawal with too many questions.

“I don’t know. I’d reached a level of success and got complacent.” He shrugs. “I thought I could take some time off and they’d welcome me back when I was ready.” He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. “You were right—there’s nothing worse than taking your foot off the gas and then watching others achieve your dream.”

Hearing the wordsyou were rightcoming out of Warren Mitchell’s mouth should have me bragging to high heavens. But I feel for him. A rare beat of connection passes between us at his vulnerability. I’m surprised and kinda touched that he shared something personal.

But I sense this is all I’m going to get for now. So, I grab the other end of the table and we lift. “Full disclosure—I don’t get up at four forty-five a.m. I mean, I do, to post the live motivational video, but then I go back to bed.”

Warren grins and there he is, the casual, fun-loving guy from my backyard. The one I’m getting to know better. The one who—dare I say it, against all common sense and better judgment—I’m starting to...like.

“Can’t believe you’re trusting me with such a deep, dark secret,” he says with a wink.

Correction: starting to like...a lot.

Hours later, the engagement party is in full swing. Guests arrive, mingle, drink champagne. At the grill, dressed in jeans, collared shirt, and an apron that reads What’s Up Dog?, Warren serves hot dogs and hamburgers. Surprisingly, the guests aren’t complaining. They seem to be enjoying the “laid-back, casual with classy accents” vibe we’ve been forced to go with.

Across the yard, Sonia and Liam look happy, in love, having a great time, surrounded by Sonia’s family and friends. I can’t help but wonder how Liam feels about his family not being here. Not supporting this. I’d been hoping that his parents would pull through in the final seconds, even though I know ultimately this is for the best. I’d like to talk to him about it, but Sonia’s been glued to his hip since they arrived.

Champagne glass in hand, I watch them from across the yard and a feeling of conflict washes over me. I can feel my resolve weakening.

They look so happy...

“Beautiful party, dear.”

I jump, spilling my champagne at the sound of Amelia’s voice next to me. “Amelia! Hi! What...um...are you doing here?” She dressed for the occasion in a beautiful pale blue sundress, her hair coifed in a bun and a glamourous amount of makeup.

“Heard the party and thought it was one of your events.”

“Oh, right.” She has an open invitation to those. “Actually, it’s an engagement party for a...friend.”

She looks disappointed. “Oh, sorry to intrude...”

“No intrusion at all!” Sonia’s voice is full of excitement as she and Liam approach us. “You’re Amelia Cranshaw! I’ve watched all your movies.”

Amelia turns to her with a beaming smile. “Thank you, dear.”

Sonia continues to gush and Amelia continues to eat up the attention and praise and this shouldn’t bother me, but an odd sensation washes over me—something like protective jealousy.

Amelia’s my friend—back off, Sonia!

“Are you an actress as well?” Amelia asks Sonia.

My heart stops and it feels as though the yard around us has gone completely silent as the question lingers in the air.

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