Page 90 of When Stars Fall

The section of Algonquin Park in Northern Ontario that the film scout pinpointed for our movie’s location is full of evergreens and a lot of snow. If I had to be on a set with my nine-year-old for the next three months, I would have picked almost anywhere else. Perhaps I should have asked Wyatt or my manager more questions. Other than negotiating an exorbitant amount of money for my participation, I didn’t care about much else. He wanted me here, and agreeing was what was best for Haven’s relationship with him.

Our trailer, by Hollywood standards, isn’t lavish. I asked for something kid-friendly, which seems to have been translated into an interior covered in shades of lemon and pink. There are two bedrooms, plus a bathroom, a kitchenette, and multiple sitting rooms.

“When is Dad getting here?” Haven picks up the throw pillows on our trailer’s couch, examines them, and puts them back. She’s spoken to Wyatt every day since he left the island.

“Call and ask him.” We saw him briefly earlier today when we arrived, but he’s been on set for the last couple of hours prepping with James, the director.

I’ve given in and gotten Haven her own phone so I don’t have to be the intermediary between her and Wyatt. Terrible parenting. Hearing Wyatt’s voice drifting down the line reminds me too much of what I want to forget.

Setting down my purse and the backpack filled with Haven’s school supplies, I close my eyes. We haven’t talked in any detail since he left the island. I haven’t kept Haven from him, but I’ve kept myself as far away as possible. What he’s said, what he hasn’t admitted, echo in the distance between us.

“Knock, knock.” Wyatt peers in the door. “Your tutor-nanny is in my trailer.”

Of course she is. “Did Stacy get lost?” I hope my tone hides how much seeing him again turns my insides to mush. His dark hair, his light eyes, his tall, toned body. The memory of what that body can do to mine rises to the surface.

“I ran into her in the parking lot.” Wyatt grins as Haven tackles him in a side hug. “Needed to meet whoever was going to be looking after my daughter.” He starts at my feet and travels up my body. “Wanna come meet her, Haven? She seems nice.” Once we make eye contact, his eyes never waver from mine.

“Should I bring my stuff?” Haven points to her backpack and the winter jacket I bought for this trip.

“Might as well.” He shifts his attention to her. “You can make my trailer study central. It’ll be nice to hang out with you.” She leaves him to grab her things and then he slings his arm around her petite shoulders when she returns to his side.

The two of them have grown so close, so quickly that it rattles me. I shouldn’t be surprised. Haven’s wanted her father in her life since she understood he existed, and so many things about her have reminded me of him.

They leave together, the door clicking closed behind them. I sink into the couch. Flopping back, I let the tension ease out of me. Managing three months of being on edge and queasy with anxiety will be my undoing. To make matters a tiny bit worse, this movie is being hailed as the return of the cinematic rom-com. Wyatt and I have to pretend to be funny and romantic together when we’re neither.Oh, joy.

There’s a knock on the door. I yell for them to come in without moving. Wyatt clears his throat, and I bolt up. “Oh.” I smooth my clothes. “I didn’t realize it was you. Where’s Haven?”

“The tutor-nanny is doing the nanny bit. Stacy wants to get to know Haven before the production schedule starts later today.”

“I guess we have the same call time.” I stand. “Did you want something?”

“I wanted to talk to you without Haven around.” He unzips his heavy jacket.

When he eases it off his shoulders, my heart rate skyrockets. I could so easily walk over and help him. Let my hands slide along his arms, across his chest, lead him to the bedroom.

“About what?” I ask.

“I saw you and some guy went to a charity thing together a few weeks ago.” He slides into a seat at the table.

I shrug and wait for whatever he’ll throw at me. The guy is an old friend, but Wyatt wouldn’t know that. When I asked him to attend the fundraiser with me, he didn’t realize I was asking to spite Wyatt, but I understood the effect the pictures would have. We’re not getting back together—not if he’s drinking and definitely not if he’s lying about it. A little buffer, something to throw Wyatt off, is useful.

“I’m capable of dating other people.”

“Any other man is second choice.” His jaw tics. “How’ll they feel when they realize that?”

The trailer becomes claustrophobic. He’s coming for me whether I’ve tried to create a smokescreen or not. I should have known. When he truly wants something, very little can hold him back. Another reason his “just a few drinks” terrifies me. I’ve seen where that slippery slope leads, and I’m not letting him drag me or our daughter down it.

“I don’t see why any other man would realize that. It’s not true. Your drinking took you out of the running. You’re Haven’s father, but otherwise you don’t have a place in my life.” I wander to the far end of the trailer. Space. I need space.

“I’m carving myself back in. I didn’t do what you think I did.” Confidence cascades off him.

“You drank. You told me you were done with the drugs and the drinking. Then one of those nights—maybe even the night you found out about Haven—you let the urges get the best of you.”

“I never had the same problem with alcohol that I did with drugs.”

“Yeah, it’s perfectly normal for people to have Jim Beam in water bottles. From there it becomes smoothies laced with codeine. Just one sip, right? Something to take the edge off.” I hold his eye contact in challenge. “You did it all the time.” I cross my arms. “If you can’t last one week without drinking, you have a problem.”

“People drink alcohol socially, after a long day, as stress relief. I wouldn’t say any of those people have a problem.” He rubs at a spot on the small table.

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