Rugged(93)

“Best part of the job was meeting new people. And keeping my business afloat.”

It’s true; we did save the chain. I’d love to jump in the air and do a freeze frame victory cry, but this isn’t the 80s. Consuela nods and asks, “So what’s next? I know this is only the first episode, but the response around town has been phenomenal. I’m assuming there’s a season two in your future. Am I right?”

“There is going to be a season two,” I chime in. “I’m producing again, though not starring this time. Thankfully.” Consuela laughs.

“Sounds good. And you, Flint? You’re staying on board the project?”

“Yes, if they agree to my demands.” He looks down at me. “As the producer, you’ll probably have a hand in it.”

“What do you need?” I ask, frowning. A lap dance? Because I can provide that. Handily.

“We have to relocate production to Los Angeles,” Flint says, never taking his gaze from mine. “I’m moving out here to be with Laurel.”

For a moment, I think my heart actually stops. At any rate, I’m speechless.

Consuela oohs and aahs and asks some more questions. The photographer continues to snap our pictures. As far as I’m concerned, no one else is here right now. I’m holding onto Flint’s hand so hard I think I’m actually losing circulation.

“Are you sure?” I ask Flint quietly, feeling my eyes filling with tears. Damn it, hold it together, nerd. There’s no crying in show business.

“Incredibly sure,” Flint says. So we give the paparazzi exactly what they want; a long, passionate kiss.

We look damn good on the front page.





36


Hard to believe it’s already summer, and we’re back in the Berkshires. Happy as I am that Flint’s moved into my condo with me, I know he doesn’t want to abandon this place completely. And I don’t want that, either. What can I say? Revolutionary War reenactments grow on you. We’re back at the diner with Callie, David, and the kids. I keep fidgeting with my engagement ring—not that I don’t love it, I’m just not used to wearing one yet. But I plan on getting very comfortable. Callie eyes it proudly.

“Did I tell you it used to belong to our mother?” she asks. I refrain from telling her she’s mentioned this eighty seven times. I have actually kept score on my phone. Instead, I smile.

“Oh really?” I bluff. “Tell me all about it.” Flint’s hand covers mine. He takes a sip of his coffee, smiling and waving at Lily who’s perched in David’s lap. David looks like he’s gotten some sun recently, and he’s a little more in shape. He and Callie share a happy look.

“I didn’t think I’d say this, but I am so glad Flint moved out to California,” Callie says, poking her brother’s arm. “We miss you, of course, but how else was I going to learn what a great manager I am?” She takes a bite of toast. “I was a drill sergeant in another life, I know it.”

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me,” David says with an easy grin. “I love a dominant woman.” It turns out a lot of their relationship problems had to do with David stressing about money and Callie feeling cooped up. With her picking her own hours at the store, the kids are taken care of, she gets to work and see people, and David’s money concerns are eased. I’ve never seen either of them happier.

“Oh, check this out,” Callie says, handing me something. “Can you believe it? An actual postcard. When I found it in the mailbox, at first I thought it was a joke.”

The picture shows the giant Redwood forests up in northern California. On the back, I read Jessa’s loopy scrawl:

Am enjoying the blessed companionship of a masculine energy source. We now live in a camper and gaze at the stars each night. He would like to say that he sends his regards, and to mail him your schedule C forms for taxes.

Masculine energy source means Ed French. Apparently they fell hard for each other at the premiere party. Opposites attract, I suppose.

“We’ve got to run,” Flint tells his sister, giving her a kiss on the cheek and paying the check. “I want to show Laurel something.”

“Please nothing dirty, please nothing dirty,” Callie says, closing her eyes tight.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Tonight, though, it’s gonna get hot,” I tell Callie, giving her a hug. “I’ll text you during.” Flint and I walk out to the sounds of her fake vomiting. Ah, family.

We get into Flint’s truck and drive, rolling the windows down and blasting all the classic rock we want. We both miss Flint’s dog Chance, but he’s been living it up at Callie’s house with Lily and Callum. Maybe we’ll trade my condo for a house and Chance can move back in with us. Then again, maybe he won’t want to leave the twins.

Flint relaxes against the seat, his hair blowing in the breeze. It’s good to have him with me at home in LA—wonderful, really—but I’m happy to see him back in his natural habitat. “How far away is this surprise?” I ask.

“It’s a couple of hours. But it’ll be worth it in the end,” he says. I shrug.

“No worse than the time we drove all the way to New York.” I grin. “I was as happy to see Charlotte as you were, but we could’ve taken AmTrak.”