Page 31 of Wildest Dreams

Hopefully, by the time I leave Magnolia Row, she’ll be able to live here again, on her own, with happy memories instead of sadness. If nothing else comes from this relationship, I at least want to give her that.

* * *

Sunday is a blur of last-minute wardrobe fittings, meetings with the director about script changes after yesterday’s table read, pre-production photography for PR photos, and a trial run of hair and make-up. I text Kendall several times throughout the day so she knows I’m thinking about her. She sends me a song on Spotify—“Daylight” by, of course, Taylor Swift.

I think of how awesome it would be to get tickets to her next tour and take Kendall, but I catch myself and try to focus on the fact that this is a short-term thing. Kendall does not want a commitment or long-term promises. She’s made that very clear.

It’s difficult not to think about the future with someone like her. She’s not a short-term girl. She’s a lifetime girl.

Marina, on the other hand, is a no-term girl. Throughout the day, she’s driven me insane. First it was walking into my dressing room while I was changing during costume fittings, then she made a snarky comment about my phone working while I was texting Kendall. In our meeting with the director, she put her hand on my arm no fewer than twelve times, and during our still photos she squeezed me hard enough that I thought my ribs would break.

The highlight of my day is calling Kendall before I crash in the bed. She tells me she’s thought of nothing but kissing me since I left her apartment. Since her office is closed for Memorial Day on the first day of shooting, I invite her to the set to watch filming. She declines, saying the town is already abuzz with rumors about us. Her parents even called her from Florida because they caught wind of our budding romance.

It seems small towns can be as bad as Hollywood when it comes to other people’s business.

When I look at my schedule for the week, I don’t know how I can fit in another date with Kendall. I’m going to have to wait until the weekend to see her again.

I tell myself the wait will make our next meeting that much sweeter, but I miss her so much I can hardly contain it.

Harriett was right. I am in over my head.

KENDALL

It’s Memorial Day, which of course means everyone in town who is not working on the movie is on the river.

The weather is perfect. It’s warm but not scorching, and it hasn’t rained all week, so the humidity isn’t too bad. Since Pierre is busy with his movie until Saturday, I accept an invitation from Patsy to hang out with her family on their pontoon boat. They live outside of town but offer to pick me up at Cattywampus since it’s within walking distance of my apartment.

I put on my bathing suit, covering it with an Auburn t-shirt, cut-off shorts, and flip-flops and pack a bag complete with sunscreen, a pink ball cap, and a giant bottle of water. The walk to Cattywampus is short, and the easiest way down to the dock is from their back patio. As soon as I step in the door, everyone turns around to stare at me.

“Hey, Kendall!” calls Calista from behind the bar. “Where’s your new man?” She winks at me and, though I know she means well, I want cover my face and hide. Instead, I try to laugh it off, wave at her as I go by, and trot as fast as I can down the steps outside to the dock.

When I get to the bottom, I stop in my tracks.

Patsy’s boat is there, waiting for me as promised, but so is Tucker’s. They’re parked side by side and Garion and Tucker are on the dock talking. Patsy is on her boat, long tan legs crossed with a toddler in her lap and glaring at Tucker like she’s plotting his untimely death. Her four oldest boys are running around, shooting water guns at each other and screaming, but she’s completely tuned them out.

I take a deep breath and make my way to the dock. I brush past Garion and Tucker with my head held high, give them a polite “excuse me,” then step onto the boat. I have to admit it was easier to face Tucker knowing he’s aware of my new—albeit temporary—relationship.

Before Pierre, I would’ve cowered and called Patsy crying from the bar’s bathroom. But now it feels different. Maybe I’m not the boring, unlovable little troll Tucker made me out to be.

Pierre f-ing Chatham likes me. A lot.

Looking at Tucker now, he seems a little ridiculous. His hair is too long in a midlife crisis sort of way, even though we’re only thirty years old. I look to Whitney in the boat next to ours and I realize Pierre was right. She is a shell of a person.

At least she has built-in flotation devices on her chest in case of a boating accident.

I sit down beside Patsy at the bow of the boat.

“I told him not to talk to that f-er,” Patsy says, her foot shaking in anger.

“It’s fine. Besides, they’ve been friends since we were kids. I don’t expect Gar to cut him off because of me.”

“I do.”

I chuckle. “That’s between y’all.”

One of Patsy’s boys screams from the back of the boat.

“Archer, don’t hit your brother with that gun! Guns are for shooting, not hitting.”

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