Wildest Dreams

9. Kendall

KENDALL

I drive the three blocks it takes to get back to my office/apartment. I could’ve walked but these shoes hurt my feet and I didn’t want to be limping on my date.

Yes, that was actually a date.

I’m still in shock.

And Tucker was there. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Part of me wants to laugh my tail off, but part of me doesn’t want to think of him at all. I don’t want to be smug; I want to be indifferent. I want him to not exist in this town so I can live my life without the cloud of that relationship hanging over me.

I walk up the narrow, uneven steps to my apartment. This building is over eighty years old and the wood creaks under my feet. The paint is peeling from the plaster walls, which makes it look a little haunted. Patsy keeps trying to talk me into some funky floral wallpaper and extra lighting, but I haven’t gotten around to it. She is right, though. It really would brighten things up.

I collapse on my bed, my head still spinning. Pierre Chatham likes me.

Me.

Little nobody me.

Pierre f-ing Chatham.

The bad thing is, I like him too. He’s so open, so matter-of-fact, so attentive. I don’t feel like I have to try hard to keep his attention the way I always did with Tucker. Pierre is down-to-earth. He’s polite and not at all pretentious about being famous. On top of all that, he has that irresistible Hollywood hunk look that makes me want to internally combust.

I pull my phone from my purse and text Pierre to let him know I got home okay. A few minutes later, it dings in return, letting me know he made it home—to my old home—as well. He tells me he hopes I have a good night, but I don’t respond.

I can’t let this go on. I’m already smitten, but the thought of losing my heart again makes me physically ill. As soon as I let down my guard and see him again, I know I’ll fall harder, and it’ll be that much worse when he leaves in a few weeks.

I cannot go through that again. The divorce nearly killed me. It’s not worth the risk. But damn if he isn’t tempting.

* * *

T he next day my mom calls me at exactly eight in the morning, right as I’m unlocking the front door to my office.

“What’s this I hear about you dating a movie star?”

“How did you?—”

“Calista saw you and texted your dad.”

I roll my eyes. “Dear lord.”

“So? How in the world did you end up on a date with Pierre Chatham at Cattywampus?”

I tell her the short version and we end the call with my promise to keep her updated, but the last thing I want is my parents involved in my love life. After the whole Tucker debacle, they’re understandably a little overprotective. The less they know, the better.

Patsy arrives earlier than usual, throws her purse on the front desk, and comes straight into my office without so much as a good morning.

“So?” she asks, her hands shaking with excitement.

“What?”

“You know what. How was the date?”

I sigh and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and putting my hands on my head.

“He’s perfect.”

Patsy squeals. “I knew it! I need all the details. This is the best thing that could’ve happened to you!”

“No, Patsy. It’s not.”

“Why? What happened? You said he’s perfect.”

“It’s not him; it’s me. I’m very much not perfect.”

“Oh, don’t start with that crap again. You need to move on and a big celebrity is the perfect guy to get you out of your head.” She sits down in the chair in front of my desk. “Tell me every detail from the beginning. I already know Tucker was there.”

“What? How?”

“Mercuria Beaumont texted me.”

I roll my eyes. This town.

I go through our date, line by line from what I can remember. When I tell her about the botched kiss at the end of the night, I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head like a cartoon.

“Shut the f-ing door. Pierre f-ing Chatham tried to kiss you and you turned away from him?”

I nod, giving her a tense, toothy smile.

“We need to take you in for a lobotomy or something. When Pierre Chatham kisses you, you’re supposed to kiss him back!” She looks at me like I’ve grown a third eye.

“No. This is bad! All bad! Nothing good can come from this. There’s no way I’ll come out of this without getting hurt.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I felt crazy close to him yesterday. We talked about his past, my past. He has this way of seeing into my soul. It’s unnerving and incredibly sexy at the same time. If this goes any further, I’m going to fall so hard that the splat will leave a permanent mark and you will never be able to clean it up.”

She shakes her head. “Like Humpty Dumpty?”

“Yes! Exactly. Think of me as an egg on a ledge.”

Patsy’s expression softens. She walks around my desk, kneels, and takes my hand.

“Kendall,” she says, “it’s not a bad thing to be scared. I know the divorce was hard, but?—”

“No,” I say, pulling away from her, and a dam inside of me breaks. “You don’t know. You and Garion are perfect. You got your happily ever after with your high school sweetheart. You have no idea what it’s like for that to blow up in your face. I hope you never do.”

She takes a deep breath. “You deserve to be happy, and you’re not happy holed up in your apartment all the time. You never will be at this rate. Put yourself out there. You never know…”

“This isn’t a practical dream to chase. He’s from a completely different world.”

“He’s not an alien.”

“He might as well be.”

“For all we know, he could sweep you off your feet and whisk you away to California to live a life of luxury.”

“Not only is that highly unlikely, it’s not even what I would want. This whole thing is an exercise in futility.”

“It could work out! Crazier things have happened. If it doesn’t, who cares? You’ll be one step closer to moving on.”

“You’ve watched way too many princess movies.”

“That’s not the point.” She raises her eyebrows and gives me her stern mom look. “Consider it. When he calls?—”

“ If he calls.”

“No, we’re sending good vibes out into the universe. Manifesting. When he calls, give him a chance.”

I lean forward, gaze at the spreadsheets on my computer screen, and tap my pencil on the desk. Patsy stands up and glares at me, hands on hips.

I sigh. “I’ll think about it.”