A Brand New Ending (Page 61)

He tried to focus on his producer’s words. “I don’t know, Solomon. I thought the scene had a nice balance and connected the hero and heroine on a deeper level.”

“I don’t want deep. I want funny, maybe sexy. Have them kiss right before they crash.”

Kyle blinked. “That’s just stupid.”

“No, it’s funny. Work it out—I need it quickly, or we’ll get behind schedule.”

He watched the producer’s retreating back and tried not to lose his temper. The rewrites were killing him. At this point, he couldn’t recognize his own story underneath the mishmash of opinions consistently thrown at him. It definitely wasn’t what he imagined, but he still loved writing for a living and being part of such a thriving, competitive industry. It made him feel alive. Big.

Fucking important.

He grabbed the script and turned to the marked scene, trying desperately to clear his head and map out a scene that didn’t suck. He was just getting into the zone when he realized someone was calling his name.

He looked up, torn out of his fog, and stared at Ophelia. Clad in denim shorts and a white ruffled top, hair spilling around her shoulders, he caught his breath as her beauty struck him full force. Even with all this bullshit, he loved her so damn much. They’d work it out.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

She shifted her feet, looking uncomfortable. “We really need to talk, Kyle. I spoke with my sister. I’m thinking of heading back home.”

The tenderness drifted away and was replaced by pure anger. “Are you kidding? Why on earth would you want to run back home? We hated it there. You want to end up running the B & B like your mom? Get trapped for life in a small town with no opportunities?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know—I just hate it here,” she whispered. She came over to stand beside him. “This thing with the show blew up. The papers are saying crappy things about me—about how I was a diva and wanted all these things and that’s why I quit the show. It’s all lies.”

He gave an impatient sigh. “That’s just the press twisting things. It’s a new show. By quitting, you gave them a bad reputation. It’ll blow over.”

She stared at him. “You don’t even care?”

He rubbed his head. Stress bubbled over—along with confusion—and he lashed out. “Listen, you can’t do this to me right now. I have to get these rewrites to Solomon ASAP, and then God knows what else he’ll want me to change to make this movie work. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“I need you tonight, Kyle.” Her words throbbed with urgency. “Please come home. I’ll wait up. I just can’t keep going on like this.”

“I get it. I’ll be home. I promise. I’m sorry, but I have to get this script done.”

She took a step back and nodded. “I’ll see you at home tonight.” Her gaze held a touch of desperation. “You promise, right?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

He only had a few flashes of memory of the last time he saw her. The sad look in her blue eyes as she turned away. The click of her low-heeled sandals over the tiled floor. The scent of lavender and soap and honey drifting from her skin. The flicker of light on her left hand from the small diamond she proudly wore, even though he’d promised her something bigger and better soon.

He’d go over them endlessly in the long months ahead as he ached for her.

But he didn’t know any of it then.

The shooting ran late, and the producers and director called a meeting to change the ending. He texted her his apologies while he locked himself in a small, airless room with his computer. He typed through the night, finally delivering something the team was proud of.

When he got home, she was gone.

Kyle stared at the pages. So close to the ending. The simplicity and stark honesty of the book humbled him. It was the type of love story stripped to its bare bones: sex, youth, passion, ambition, and what happens to two innocent people caught in the storm. His talks with Ophelia these past two months had helped him understand the nuances and differences between how their individual stories had unfolded, which made the book come alive. Excitement flowed through his veins.

Now, it was time to make the big decision.

The ending.

He swiveled around in his chair and stared out the window. Change was on the way. Most of the snow had melted, leaving a damp, muddy mess, but the ripe scent of spring hung in the air. The evenings began to lengthen, and the sound of the birds exploded in the newly budding trees. Ophelia was already starting her spring planting, including various herbs and vegetables for the garden. Ethan had begun renovation on the bungalow, and Harper had acquired some new spring foals. The red barn doors were now flung open, and the animals began poking their noses from their stalls and galloping in the fields.

Time was running out.

He stood up from his computer and decided to go into town. He’d pick up a few things for Ophelia and grab lunch. Tugging on a thick hooded sweatshirt, he headed out, his thoughts on the past and the present and the promises he needed to keep for the woman he loved.

When he neared the familiar driveway, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. He made the decision last minute—swerving down the path and parking the car in front of the run-down farmhouse. His gut churned, and his palms grew damp. He stared at the sagging porch, the sloped roof still clogged with snow, and the bright-red door that winked at him through the gloom. The barns and chicken coops and shed were tightly closed up and eerily vacant. Ghosts surrounded his childhood home. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if he had the guts to go in.

Then with a muttered curse, he shoved open the car door and walked onto the porch. Kyle lifted his hand and knocked. His hands trembled slightly, so he quickly stuck them in his pockets and waited.

His father answered the door. He’d never seen joy in his dad’s face before. It was an emotion that was too soft to be shared between them, so it took Kyle a few seconds to realize it wasn’t his imagination.

“Kyle. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I didn’t know I was, either.”

Patrick motioned him in. The dog caught sight of him and slowly limped over for a greeting.

He knelt down and rubbed the shepherd’s ears, crooning to him. “Ophelia told me she got you to take him in.”

A smile ghosted his lips. “Yeah. She’s manipulative, that one. But I like him. Named him Charlie.”

His throat tightened. “That was the name of my teddy bear when I was young.” God, how he’d loved that scraggly old bear. Carried it everywhere with him for way too long, and never even felt embarrassed. He’d wanted to bring it with him to California, but by then it had been lost or boxed away.

“I know,” Patrick said softly.

Kyle choked back the emotions, hardened his heart. One nice gesture didn’t take away any of the bad. His tone hardened. “I’m surprised you’re keeping the dog. You’re not really the animal type.”

His father nodded. “We’re a lot alike. Charlie’s not too good with others, either. We don’t need much.”

“Ophelia said you’ve been getting her to cook for you.”

He winced. “Yeah, I have. Takeout and delivery gets old, and I don’t cook so well.”

“No shit. I always did that for you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, you did. Plus a bunch of other things I never gave you credit for. Probably not even a thank you.”