Page 3 of Wooing Winter

“Orson!” Owen’s voice is too loud, so happy. “Guess what, man? I'm getting married!”

His words hit me like a sudden burst of blinding studio lights. My eyes struggle to adjust as I absorb the news. “Married? Seriously? To who?” The words spill out of my mouth, but evenas I ask, I realize my tone lacks genuine enthusiasm. It's not that I'm not happy for him, but it's all so unexpected. It feels like a plot twist in a movie that catches you off guard and leaves you speechless.

“Dina Mullen! You must remember her. She was pals with Winter.”

With her wide smile and peppy personality, Dina flashes through my memory. She was more than just Winter's pal—she was her best friend. But I keep that to myself, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Wow, man, that's great news!" My words come out stiff and forced. The idea of marriage no longer holds any meaning for me. Relationships only bring trouble and heartache, in my experience. It's better to keep things casual and uncomplicated.

“And guess what else? I want you to be my best man!” If Owen’s enthusiasm is meant to be contagious, it’s not working.

Fortunately, I’m a great actor.

“Holy shit! That’s awesome! Just let me know the time and place. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The role of best man feels heavier than any character I’ve played on screen, but he’s one of the few genuine friends I have left, and I want to be there for him. Then, a sudden and disturbing thought strikes me. “When’s the big day?”

“Christmas Eve.”

The words hang between us like a scene waiting to be edited for dramatic effect. Christmas Eve—a day typically reserved for peace on earth and goodwill toward men will now contain an awkward reunion with Winter. The universe is either giving me a gift or playing a horrible joke on me.

“And before you ask,” Owen continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “Winter will be there too. She’s the maid of honor.”

Of course, she is. The universe hates me almost as much as Winter does.

“That sounds… interesting.” That’s the understatement of the year. Owen knows we parted badly, but I never told him what really went down. After eight long years of trying to bury those memories, I’m not entirely sure anymore.

“Ah, come on! It’ll be fun. Like old times,” Owen pushes cheerfully, and the shock of seeing Winter again prevents me from producing a lie believable enough for him to accept. There’s no way out of this now.

Yeah, old times—with added festivity and unresolved feelings hanging over me like Christmas lights on the fritz. Winter and I spent two years in a contentious long-distance relationship, filled with more fights than I care to remember.

Looking back, most of it was my fault. I was too shortsighted and immature to realize it then. For the past eight years, we’ve gone out of our way to avoid one another and done a pretty damn good job—if I say so myself. We’re both in show business and accordingly, get invited to the same parties, but whenever I know she’s attending, I find an excuse to get me out of attending. Now, in weeks, all that work will be ruined, and there’s no escaping a confrontation that I always knew was inevitable.

“So,” Owen says, snapping me back to reality. “You still in?”

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. “Yeah, of course," I affirm with a forced chuckle, "it should be fun.”

“Awesome! It’ll mean so much to both of us. Everyone will be so psyched to see the big movie star come home. Between you and Winter, Bixby might be overrun with paparazzi,” Owen jokes, unwittingly stabbing my heart with every laugh.

Our conversation lingers for a few more moments, filled with lighthearted banter about outfit choices and promises to spend more time together after the wedding. As the call ends and the line goes silent, I hear my director shouting from the other sideof the set, asking someone to track me down. As I slip my phone back into my pocket and readjust myself into Orson-the-actor rather than Orson-the-reluctant-best-man, I can't help but feel like my own life has turned into a movie—one in desperate need of a few rewrites.

I’m not ready to see Winter. What if she shows up with another guy? What if she’s found the love of her life and arrives in Bixby flaunting a giant ring, on the arm of a European rock star or, God forbid, another actor? I act for a living, but I don’t think I can pretend not to care. We were supposed to be the couple who worked out—the ones who made it and showed everyone that true love conquers all.

Even in my mind, that sounds pathetic. Each word feels like a slap in the face. I may have been a pain in the ass, but Winter was cold and unforgiving. All my suspicions were correct from the start—she couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

Chapter 4

Winter

The humof the city fades away as I step into my apartment. The heavy door clicks shut with an obnoxiously loud sound, drowning out the last remnants of the outside world. My assistant did her job well—the place is immaculate, cozy, and fully stocked with fresh groceries. As much as I grumble about fame, there are certainly some undeniable perks to being a celebrity.

My phone buzzes in my coat pocket, jolting me out of the silence that’s begun to wrap around me like a blanket. I fish it out of my cluttered purse, glancing at the screen to see Dina’s name light it up. A smile tugs at my lips—Dina Marie Mullen always has that effect.

"Hey, stranger," I answer, kicking off my shoes and collapsing onto the overstuffed pillows of my overpriced sofa. Rita swore it was a bargain, but I still believe I paid far too much. Thank goodness it’s comfy or I’d still be reeling over the price.

"Winter! Oh my god, I'm so glad you picked up. I have ginormous news!" Dina crackles with excitement, so palpable that it’s almost visible.

I’m such a horrible best friend. I’ve been so busy on this damn tour that I haven’t reached out to her in months.

I prop my feet on the coffee table, bracing myself. "Lay it on me, girl. Did you finally get laid? Please don’t tell me you’re still waiting for Owen Mills to notice you. You're a gorgeous girl. Stop wasting your time on someone who doesn’t deserve?—”

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