I turn around, startled. Emma stands behind me, looking calm, cool, collected, and pain-free in her stilettos and pencil skirt. She’s already clutching her giant mug of coffee, and for a brief moment, I kind of hate her.
“Exercise happened. Or, more specifically, running,” I grumble, scooping a generous mound of sugar into my coffee, then topping it with enough milk to turn the drink a nice creamy color. I take a deep sip. Sweet, sweet elixir of the gods.
Daisy saunters into the kitchen.
“What are you doing up so early?” I ask.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she replies with a wide yawn. “Damn birds outside my window.” She slides on a pair of sunglasses. “And the sun. So much sun.”
Emma watches Daisy with narrowed eyes. “Aren’t you the perky one? Isn’t that part of your thing? Fun. Blond. Perky. A little zany.”
Daisy rolls her eyes. “I am perky. But not before eight a.m. I need time to build up to greatness.”
“So what you’re saying is Daisy’s a manic pixie dream girl?” I say to Emma with a snort.
“Well, we are in Hollywood.” Emma gives a shrug. “We’re all playing a part. For example, I’m the overachieving biatch. And I fully embrace the cliché.” She kicks out her stilettos.
“I love a self-aware diva,” Daisy says, filling her coffee cup from the large French press that Marie left on the stove.
“And I am…?” I ask, cringing a little.
“Girl next door,” Emma and Daisy say in unison.
“Huh. I guess the girl next door could be worse.”
“Now that we know what part we’d play in a movie of our lives, I just have to say you’re looking mighty foxy, Miss Olivia, in a sporty way.” Daisy eyes up my terry cloth shorts and V-neck T-shirt.
“Courtesy of Emma.” I do a little twirl. I’m having fun with my new wardrobe, even the workout clothes. It’s making me rethink my former fashion choices. I do miss my writerly Tshirts, though. Those make me happy, so I don’t plan on leaving them behind anytime soon.
Emma shakes her head. “Courtesy of Chase.”
“But you picked it out, right? And put the shopping bag on my bed yesterday.”
“Nope,” Emma says. “That was all Chase. He didn’t do too bad, considering he’s a man. Seems he got the sizes right. He must be very observant.” She grins.
“But he bought me sports bras. Several.” I gulp, mortified at the thought of Chase knowing my sizes. I’m not exactly an extra small like Daisy.
Emma cackles wickedly. “I am surprised.”
“That he bought me sportswear? Me too.”
“No, that he went shopping. He never goes shopping.”
Daisy nods. “He always gets mobbed, so he never goes anywhere.”
“We talked about that a little yesterday after our run,” I say.
“Chase’s fan base is extreme. He went from being unknown to one of the most famous people on the planet overnight. I don’t think he’s ever figured out how to handle it. He’s never really recovered from the experience of all that sudden fame.”
“But other celebrities do, right? They don’t just hide away.”
“Ryder and Sebastian go out,” Daisy says. “All the time.”
“Sebastian doesn’t care about being photographed. He eats it up,” Emma says. “But he’s used to it. He was born famous.”
“What about Ryder?”
“Ryder is good with disguises.” Daisy grins.
“Ryder and his disguises. Bless his hot heart,” Emma says, cracking up.
“He has an entire closet full of decoy outfits. He had some wardrobe consultant put it together when he was in the boy band. He even has prosthetics,” Daisy elaborates.
“So why can’t Chase do something like that? He just seems to have given up on the idea of a regular life.”
Emma tilts her head. “Maybe we should do an intervention. Push him out into the world with a ball cap, wig, and shades.”
I laugh. “I just want to do something for him.”
Daisy smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You and Chase seem to be getting close.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I say, avoiding her concerned gaze.
“I can’t help it. I remember how heartbroken you were with Remington, and you didn’t even know him in real life.”
“Who’s Remington?” Emma asks, leaning forward.
“This guy who catfished Olivia.”
“He did not catfish me. You make it sound sordid. We were pen pals. You can’t be sordid when you meet through a typewriter.”
Daisy frowns. “Wait, what? What about a typewriter?”
“That’s how we met. I sold one of Nanna’s typewriters, a Remington, at the neighborhood antique shop. I included a note, and we started exchanging letters. We agreed to keep things anonymous, so I don’t know his real name, but I do know he lives in LA.”
“Fuck me,” Daisy whispers.
Someone clears their throat.
Our heads swing up.
Chase stands in the kitchen in a sleeveless tank and running shorts. His gaze lands on mine before it slides down to check out my outfit, the outfit he picked out. His eyes light up, and I can tell he approves. Warmth suffuses my body like melting caramel.
“Morning glory,” Emma drawls, waving with two hands. “Hello, earth to Chase.”
He tears his gaze from me. “Uh, morning.” He throws a brief smile to Daisy and Emma, then directs his gaze back to me. “Ready for our run?”
I groan. “Maybe?” My muscles may not be ready, but as I stare at the man before me, the rest of me is all in.
“Was I interrupting? You ladies looked like you were discussing something intense.”
“Were you interrupting something?” Daisy answers with an arch look. “That’s such an interesting question. Olivia here was just telling us about this pen pal she had and how they met when he bought her typewriter. A Remington.”
He stiffens at her words, his head jerking back.
I turn to Daisy.
I don’t want Chase to get the wrong idea and think I’m still hung up on Remington. I mean, I am, a little. I miss him with an ache in my heart and an emptiness in the parts of my life that used to be filled by him. The texts in the morning and the texts before bed and all of those in-between moments in my day. But that’s over, at least for now.
Daisy wanted me to leave my online friendship behind, so why is she bringing it up now, and to Chase, of all people?
I look up at Chase. For a brief moment, I think I see panic in his eyes before his expression shutters.
He takes a deep breath. “Let’s go,” he murmurs before pinning Daisy with an intense look.
“Have a nice run,” Daisy calls after us. “We’ll talk later, Chase.”
CHAPTER 27
Chase
“When were you going to tell me?” Daisy bursts into my cottage later that afternoon, startling me as I stand in front of my refrigerator, debating which nutritionist-approved, premade dinner to choose, salmon or plain chicken breast.
“Nice of you to knock.” I turn to her, resigned to my fate.
It took Daisy longer to confront me than I thought it would. But that might have been because I was hiding out in my cottage all day, like the coward I am.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daisy repeats.
I can’t avoid this conversation any longer.
“We’ll talk. Do you want a drink?” I sure as hell do.
I pull out a cold beer and offer it to her. She grimaces. I shrug and open it for myself.
When we’re both sitting at my wooden table, I take a long swig, fortifying myself.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Olivia? The typewriter and the letters, that you were ‘Remington’?” she says, using air quotes.
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“Except it does, Chase. I bought that typewriter and gave it to you. When Olivia finds out, she’s going to think I knew this whole time.”
She stares at me, at my eyes that keep sliding away, and then her eyes get big.
“You weren’t going to tell her, were you?” She snorts in disgust. “Guys are such idiots. So tell me, big brother, what is your grand plan here?”