Page 73 of Fierce Love
“It can be,” I say. “If someone is using their charm to convince other people of things that are harmful or to hurt people for their own gain.”
“I think Hollyn would callyoucharming,” she says, sliding me a sly glance before getting into the car.
“She didn’t tell you that.” I settle into the driver’s seat.
“She’d never admit it,” Kin says as I start the car and navigate us down the road. “But have you ever noticed the way she looks at you? It’s like…” She takes a deep breath and stares out the window.
“Like?” I prod, trying not to seem desperate for some insight.
“Like you’re the last rays of a summer sun, when you know it’s going to get cold and you can’t quite bear it.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“She wants to linger, you know? Or stay in the warmth. Seems like a good thing to me.”
Except for the wistful way Kinsley describes Hollyn’s look makes it seem like she’s preparing for the frost even as she’s basking in the sun. And to me, that doesn’t seem good at all.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hollyn
We’re in the studio prepping our designs for the sixth show, Posey next to my shoulder, her own design program up on the screen for me to peer at. The trick is usually to make our designs different enough to present a real choice while also adhering to whoever was “supposed” to win and keeping in mind what the family wants. A lot of balls to juggle.
Most of the time, I really enjoy how this job sparks my brain. Each time I formulate a new house plan, I feel lit up, brimming with possibilities. The challenges and roadblocks are exciting most of the time, rather than frustrating. Every single episode, I’ve learned something new about Bellerive, about the family we were helping, about sourcing materials on the island, or about someone involved in the production.
Had anyone told me I'd like this job when I'd taken it, I probably would have disagreed. I took the role for Kinsley, but it has turned out to be good for me too.
“Eight episodes,” Posey says beside me with a sigh while she plucks out high-end finishes to put in her inspiration board. “Why not the full twelve? Doesn’t that seem like they lack confidence in the show?”
“It’s two more than what we were supposed to have for the base,” I say.
“I know. But this job is my dream—one I never thought I’d get to fulfill while staying in the country, so I’m just bummed that we might only get eight episodes in total. If we don’t get twelve episodes ordered, I’m nervous we won’t get a second season either.”
“Eight to ten episodes by streaming standards is pretty normal.” And I haven’t let myself think beyond this production. I haven’t even given Posey a firm RSVP to her wedding in September. With the youth adventure race at the end of August, I shouldn’t really stick around for another two weeks after that just to watch Posey get married when I’ll need to get back to work at Reyes and Cruz.
But she’s also become a really close friend. Flying back for the weekend is financially impossible.
“There’s no bachelorette party, right?” I click on another element and add it to my design, changing the color as I go.
“The Summersets threw us bachelor and bachelorette parties a long time ago. Been there, done that.” She lets out a little laugh. “Honestly, I think it was just an excuse to go to Vegas for a boys’ weekend, but whatever. Brent had fun there, and I had fun on the island. As a bonus, it means we just cruise right into the wedding now.”
“How early?”
She looks pensive. “Before Amelia was born. Brent and I waffled on the date at first, and then we finally committed to doing it just before his last Olympics.”
“Timing can be tricky, I guess.”
“Speaking of timing, you and Nathaniel seem to have gotten close,” she says, waggling her brows. “Again.”
I drag some furniture around the screen in front of me, trying to decide what to say. She’s been good about not prying, even though I’m sure Nate and I have been more obvious than I’d like to believe the last few weeks.
It’s impossible to switch off the sexual chemistry when it’s happening constantly all over our shared house. The minute Kinsley is gone somewhere else—training, off with a friend, looking after the puppies—Nate and I are all over each other. The dickmatizing that happened when I was a teenager has come back in full force. And if the circumstances around the two of us were different, that might be a joy. Whenever I think about what we’re doing, all I feel is anxiety about the end.
Which might be another reason I haven’t told Posey a firm yes or no for the wedding. I hate thinking about leaving, but with my parents and with Celia, staying is impossible. I can’t protect Kin or myself from the fallout that staying would bring. At least in New York, none of those people are factors.
“Nate and I come from opposite backgrounds,” I hedge.
“Do you think that matters when you’re in your thirties? I could see when you were kids that it would have mattered a lot. But now?”
