But what I don’t ask is: Is that why Mac Turtledove disappeared so fast—because he couldn’t help her become famous as quickly as I could?
“Listen, Nick. The only reason I didn’t fill you in sooner is because you have the soul of a true artist and it makes you emotional. It’s what makes you a star—that ability to deeply immerse yourself in every experience. But it also keeps you from seeing things in a much broader, more logical way. Trust me, Nick, I’ve got it covered, and I always have your best interests at heart. So why don’t you try to pull it together? We’ve got our Christmas finale to film in a matter of hours, and I need you on board. There’s a huge surprise for you, Nick. And don’t look at me like that—this is one I know you’re gonna like. What do you say—you with me?” He leans closer, slaps a hand over my kneecap.
I meet his gaze and force myself to hold it until he’s the first to look away. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m all in.” The lie comes easily.
“Glad to hear it.” He grins and gets to his feet, blocking the sun in a way that casts a long, solid shadow to spill over me. “It’s a busy day. There’s a lot to prepare. But you get some rest, Nick. I need you in shape for tonight.”
He’s barely turned away when he starts barking into his phone, leaving me to wrestle with the truth I was trying to avoid.
The only reason Tinsley kissed me is because it was scripted.
8 Hours, 16 Minutes, and 11 Seconds till Christmas
BYE-BYE, BIRDIE
A few hours later the only progress I’ve made is to chase the sun from my lounge chair to the edge of the pool, where I sit with my legs dangling knee-deep in the water, watching as a song sparrow uses the shallow end like it’s his personal birdbath. This is how Tinsley finds me.
“Nick?” Her voice is tentative, her approach cautious, like she’s afraid the slightest disturbance might set me off. “Lisa said I might find you out here.”
I continue to watch the sparrow, my feet circling and churning the water.
“Nick?” She kneels down beside me. “How long have you been sitting like this? Your feet are seriously waterlogged.” She chases the words with a laugh that sounds more nervous than anything, and luckily she has the good sense to end it before it can really take hold. “You okay?” She places a hand on my leg.
I lift my gaze to meet hers, then focus on her hand resting on my jeans, that ridiculous sapphire someday ring glinting in the unnaturally bright sun until it practically blinds me.
“Oh, this.” She lifts her hand between us. “It wasn’t until I saw the look on your face that the reality set in. It was cruel to dupe you like that. But with the cameras rolling…well…I guess I just decided to follow the script and hope you’d play along, which you did, and I owe you big time for that.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” I move my focus to her lips, remembering our kiss, but only for a moment before I return to watching the song sparrow fluff its feathers and take short drinks from the pool. “I mean, it worked, right? So what’s to feel sorry about? It’s my bad for not realizing sooner that I was just a pawn in your game.”
“It’s not a game, Nick.” The words are sharp, and the look on her face is about as serious as I’ve ever seen. “This has been my dream for pretty much my whole entire life. I take it very seriously. I thought you did too.”
“I did seriously dream of a different, better, much cooler life. I fully imagined myself living pretty much exactly like this.” I gesture toward my sunshine-filled, palm tree?lined, fantasy yard. “Turns out, it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
She twists nervously at the ring on her finger, as though she’s afraid I might try to snatch it, taking her long-held dream of fame along with it. And that’s when I realize just how much she has riding on this.
But I’ve got a lot at stake too.
“This life is borrowed,” I say. “It’s not really mine.” I have no idea why I’ve decided to confess, other than it feels so good to speak the truth for a change after so much pretending. But to Tinsley’s ears, my truth probably sounds cryptic and weird. It’s completely out of context. And while I have no idea how to make her understand, that doesn’t stop me from trying. “My life wasn’t always like this.” I attempt to explain the unexplainable. “I wasn’t always an International Superstar. I wasn’t always Dashing Nick Dashaway.”
She mashes her lips together, drags her shoulders up toward her ears. “Well, everyone has to start somewhere….”