Page 120 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

“I’m sorry I looked. I’m trying to have your back.”

“We knew the farm was in trouble before I met anyone. They’re not hiding it. The amount doesn’t matter.”

Maybe it doesn’t.

She closes her laptop, and I wonder if she’s writing her mother.

“I’m sorry I punched you where it hurt,” she says. “I didn’t mean it. I think you had the level of success the rest of the world dreams of.”

Had.Of course. The joke, the has-been. I know who I am.

“It’s all right. I shouldn’t have snooped.”

Her brows are furrowed hard, her lips pinched in a tight frown. “Zach, it might be time for you to go back to LA. I’m good here. I have people to talk to. Things to do. I belong. I think the workload at the farm will settle down now that the events are over, and I won’t need you to cover my research and emails. I appreciate that you did it.”

I sit on the edge of her bed. She looks ethereal in a T-shirt and loose gym shorts, her makeup still sparkling and her golden hair in ringlets.

I love her, I realize. I honestly, truly love her.

That’s a damn nuisance. More to recover from.

And she wants me gone.

“Here’s the thing,” she goes on. “I’ve covered all the Hallmark bases. It’s time for regular dating stuff.” Her eyes cut to the shared wall of our rooms. “And I think I can’t fall into that with you so close. It’s different now between us. I didn’t want it to be different after what happened, but it is.”

I get it. And I’m not exactly interested in hearing what goes down between her and Randy, either.

“It’s good timing,” I say. “If Desdemona does return to LA, I can run interference. We can switch from Hallmark movies to those sitcoms where someone is trying to be two places at one time.”

This sparks a smile from her. “You can say she just missed me, then have Jester in a blond wig pop up across the field.”

I manage to laugh. “Exactly. We have you covered. Go ahead and have it all.”

She reaches forward to squeeze my arm, and I have the sinking feeling that this might be the last time she ever touches me. She’ll fall in love with Randy, make a name for herself by casting the next Oscar-winning film, and that will be that. She won’t need me or Desdemona or anybody.

She’ll live out her small-town, Hollywood-adjacent happily ever after.

“I’ll get out of your hair first thing in the morning,” I tell her.

“You’ve been the best wingman a girl could ask for.” She shakes her head at herself. “And I might have asked for more than I should have.”

I indulge myself with one last lean toward her and press my lips to her hair. “I was happy to oblige.”

Then I leave for my own room, the overstuffed suitcases, and prepare for life without her.

Chapter 39

KELSEY THEBIGSHOT

The homestead is strange without Zachery in it. I watch his Jaguar from the balcony, dust blowing up from the tires as he leaves.

I’m on my own.

I head down to the kitchen to eat leftover sandwiches for breakfast. It’s six a.m. in LA, and the time zone will be a struggle to get work done. I’ll have to duck out of whatever I’m doing at the farm midmorning to call Jason Venetian and the director, then hopefully Gayle’s agent.

I’m making this happen.

I make a mental list of what needs to be done. Choose different scenes from the script, definitely. Send those to Jason and Gayle. Help with their tapes. Harder to do at a distance, but I don’t think Gayle lives in California anyway.

---