Page 27 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

I pull away before he does, because the longer I stay in his arms, the more I’ll miss his hugs when I can’t have them anymore. Which, I think, starts now.

“We’d better get to work,” I say. “We’re already late, and I’m freezing out here.” I shiver, despite the layers of clothing I have on and the fact that I wasn’t cold until I stepped out of Zach’s arms.

“But we’ll need you to sign the contract before we start. Ike is adamant about that this morning.” I walk toward the sliding glass door, shifting all my focus back to my business. Right where it should be. “Did you get a chance to read over Jeannie’s suggestions and ask for those changes?”

Zach’s hesitation nudges me to turn around. Worry lines cross his forehead and he rubs the back of his neck. “Not yet.”

“Right,” I say, understanding. Reading a contract isn’t easy for anyone, and it’s especially difficult for Zach with his dyslexia. “Do you want me to read it aloud to you? I can tell Ike to give us another hour.”

He looks at me, his brow smoothing. “Is it the same as yours, do you think?”

“Probably,” I say tentatively. “It’s basically about not disclosing what happens on the shoots until after the show is released, except for what is approved to be shown on social media sites. Your pay will be different than mine. I think that’s it, but let’s go through it to be sure.”

I motion for him to hand me his phone. He opens the email and contract from Jeannie, then turns over his phone.

I skim through the legal language, reading the most important parts to Zach, but he only lasts five minutes before he’s fidgeting so much, I know he’s not listening.

I go quiet until he looks at me again. “Do you want me to ask the producers for more time to read it? If I tell them about your dyslexia, they’ll agree, if only to prevent them from being accused of taking advantage of your disability.”

Zach winces, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. Disability has such a negative connotation, even though everyone has things they can’t do as well as someone else. I hate that I said it, but there’s no good word that’s going to make him feel less self-conscious about his dyslexia.

“I’ve held us up enough already.” He snatches the phone from my hands so fast, I barely know what’s happened. After a few scrolls and taps, he tucks it into his back pocket. “There. Done. Thank you, DocuSign.” With a smile, he nods toward the back door. “Indoors today?”

“Yep.” My answer is slow and forced, the opposite of his rushed decision. I blink, unsure whether I should be happy that he’s signed.

Did I pressure him into committing to something he’s not sure about? I don’t think so, but there’s an itch under my skin that could be guilt.

At the same time, the contract has been signed and sent. There’s nothing I can do about that.

I walk to the door, anxious to get inside not only for the warmth, but also so I’m not alone with Zach anymore. Best to keep things professional while we’re working together.

“We’ve got to go over some of the design layouts again, now that Adam’s done demoing the kitchen. We need to decide what he tears down next.” I continue. “You saw he proposed to Evie, right? She posted about it.”

“He actually texted me before she made it public,” Zach answers as we step inside and join the rest of the crew.

‘That’s great! Progress!” I can’t explain why my words sound false to me. For the first time ever, being with Zach feels awkward. And I hate that a part of me hoped I was giving him the news about his brother.

That would have hurt Zach. His relationship with Adam has been pretty rocky for the last nine months. I should be genuinely happy they’re repairing it. The only explanation for my jealousy is that hurt people hurt.

And I’m hurting right now.

But, like finding a bruise you can’t remember how you got, I don’t know why I feel an ache in the middle of my chest.

When we go through the back door, the air inside is tight. Ike gives me a stern look. “Are we all ready now?”

“We’re ready.” I feel like I’m back in school, in the principal’s office. Then I remember this is my show. “Don’t worry. We’ll make up the time.” I match Ike’s sternness, then turn to Zach. “Right?”

“Right.”

“Good.” Ike smiles. “Let’s start with the discussion about how to make this area a more open floor plan. Give us some of the same back and forth from yesterday.”

On Ike’s cue, Zach and I walk into the family room from the kitchen, me in front, him keeping his distance. Even though the cameras are rolling, neither of us talks. The windowless room is dark. When I flip the light switch, the last working bulb in the light fixture blinks, then pops, and the room goes dark again.

“Fix number one, new lightbulbs,” I say.

“Scratch that. New light fixture,” Zach answers. “Grandma always hated that one.”

I stop and look up at the boring plastic ceiling light replacing the beautiful glass fixture that had once been there. “Your grandpa probably bought this one at Dad’s hardware store. It’s the only style Dad ever carried.”

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