Page 22 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“And you haven’t tried, I don’t know, moving on the way she has?”
“Phae hasn’t moved on. She’s still single.”
“How do you know that?” Serena groaned. “Tell me you haven’t been stalking her BuzzHub page.”
“She doesn’t have a BuzzHub page—she doesn’t use any social media at all—but I’m still friendly with her brother and her stepmother. I’m supposed to be going to their place for Thanksgiving if we ever manage to get out of here.”
“So you might see Phae?”
“I won’t.”
“She doesn’t get an invite?”
“She does, but she sent the usual excuses and said she’d swing by the following weekend to catch up.”
“So she’s skipping Thanksgiving with her own family? That’s dedication to the cause.”
“Her tenacity is a trait I used to admire. I swear, I thought landing my first big movie deal would be something to celebrate, but she just flipped out and said she needed space to think things through. One minute, she was asking me to move to North Carolina with her, and the next…” Marc made a cutting motion across his throat with his free hand.
“North Carolina? Does she have connections there? Family?”
The mattress springs dipped as Serena settled beside him, her head propped up on a hand. At least they were friends. This situation would have been even worse with a stranger.
“No, nobody. Remember last Easter when I mentioned Phae’s father? How he came up with some bullshit inheritance condition that meant Phae had to serve in the Army?”
The drunken conversation in London was the first time in years that Marc had spoken about Phae with anyone but Kitty and Huck, and it had been surprisingly cathartic.
“I don’t understand how a father could put their child in danger like that.”
“With Rex, it was all about control. His will said that his sons would only inherit the family trust if one of his children served their country for three years first. Booker, her older brother, was two years into his three when he died, and Phae sacrificed her own dreams so her younger brother could inherit, even though she didn’t get a cent.”
“But I thought she served three years?”
“Sons only, remember? Of course, Huck offered to split the money, but Phae turned him down. Said she was doing just fine on her Army salary and Kitty—their stepmom—should use the trust to take care of Huck and herself. That was when Phae moved to the new unit.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I must’ve replayed our conversation a million times in my head. She told me she’d realised the Army was where she was meant to be, not LA, but I thought she’d change her mind. I mean, we were set to be financially secure, and until Booker died, she wanted to become a biologist and study medicinal herbs.” There wasn’t a plant or tree in rural Nebraska that Phae couldn’t identify. “With the movie money, I could have bought us a home, paid for her college tuition, made sure she never had to work, but no—she decided she’d rather run around and shoot at stuff. Two weeks later, her engagement ring arrived in the mail.”
Did Marc sound bitter? That’s because he was. He’d offered her everything she’d ever said she wanted, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. Her actions were proof that you couldn’t choose who you loved. A thousand times, he’d told himself to move on and forget her, but his heart wouldn’t let him.
“Did she discuss it with you first? North Carolina? Her change in career plans?”
He shook his head.
“Then maybe the relationship had run its course?” Serena said gently, squeezing his hand in sympathy.
“That’s what her note said.” It had arrived with the ring. “That we were at a crossroads. She didn’t want to change direction, so she couldn’t ask me to either, but she’d always care for me. I tried to quit the movie, but my attorney said the contract was airtight and advised me not to throw away everything I’d worked for. Honestly, I thought Phae would come to her senses and return home once she’d gotten the wild hair out of her system, but she never did.” Marc bit out a laugh. “For years, I kept the same private cell number just in case she reconsidered, but then a stalker got ahold of it and started calling me three hundred times a day.”
“Yikes.”
“There were texts too. Photos.” Marc grimaced at the memory. “What’s the female equivalent of a dick pic?”
“Ugh,” Serena said, but her lips twitched. “A clit pic?”
“Does that really rhyme?”
“I guess not. A…flap snap?”
