The Decoy Girlfriend(64)
“It has,” says Taft, as though they hadn’t just seen her laughing with their former cast a few minutes ago. “Congrats on your directorial debut.”
Bowen had been his love interest on Once Bitten, but because it was canceled so quickly, the will-they-or-won’t-they between the couple had never been resolved. It had kicked off a lot of fanfiction, though, Freya’s included, and the show had a huge cult following that rivaled Buffy the Vampire Slayer in its heyday.
Despite their scorching combined sex appeal on-screen, there isn’t a hint of chemistry between them now. They’re hanging about awkwardly, as if they hadn’t once shared the same set or the same breath.
Freya gives Bowen a thousand-watt smile. “We’re so excited to see the film. How cool is it working with your husband every day?”
Bowen beams, all too ready to gush.
Not only is the movie Bowen’s directorial debut, but she and her husband, Charlie, also produced and starred in it. Since it’s a tearjerker of a love story comped to The Notebook and The Lake House, naturally, Freya came prepared wearing waterproof mascara, fully committed to bawl.
“It was incredible,” says Bowen, “but maybe you’ll know what it’s like for yourself soon enough.”
Holly titters, and if it’s possible, Taft tenses even further.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Bowen looks genuinely confused. “It’s just I heard that you two were— But clearly they were unfounded rumors.”
Freya recoils as the dots connect. Engaged? Her eyes widen. “We are nowhere near that yet.”
Yet? Did I say that out loud? She almost chokes on her own spit. Fuuuuuck.
If she looks at Taft, she knows blushing is inevitable. And Mandi would never lose her composure. She wouldn’t stammer and try to walk it back the way Freya instinctively wants to.
“People like to gossip,” says Taft, saving her. He rubs his palm from her bare shoulder all the way down to her elbow like he’s warming Freya up. She leans into his comfort. “And after we got a little passionate in a club a few weeks ago, we’ve been the topic du jour. You know how it is.”
Freya cozies into his side, heartbeat instantly calming when she hears his, and tries not to think about how he feels like home. It’s added up in quiet cups of morning coffee and reminders to stretch her muscles. Reading on opposite ends of the couch, Taft absorbed in his stack of scripts while she alternated between peeking at him and focusing on her screen. The gift of his grandfather’s heirloom typewriter and the scratch-paper envelopes Taft saved for days to tuck into the desk drawer of her writing space.
Taft is the comfort of the childhood Craftsman her dad still lives in; the brownstone in New York where every impossible dream felt within reach; the two-bedroom apartment above Stori’s bookshop that always smells of books and tea and reheated takeout.
But even in the softness of this moment, Freya can’t escape the hard truth that she’s just a fill-in for the actress who is supposed to be here, and though she’s temporarily taking her place, nothing about Mandi’s world is hers. Not even him.
Nothing here is for keeps.
“Though, of course, after tonight, everyone will only be talking about you,” Freya says with a practiced Mandi smile, hoping this redeems her after that awkward slip. “All your buzz is well deserved.”
Bowen is about to reply when her eye is caught by a middle-aged couple, who, despite being dressed in couture, look about as out of place as Freya herself currently feels. “Oh, my parents are looking a little lost. I better go rescue them. You should all probably start heading in.”
As if on cue, her husband announces it’s time for everyone to take their seats. Holly goes off in search of Connor, but Taft and Freya still linger in the lobby as though they’re waiting for fresh drinks.
Despite the earlier tension, now that they’re alone, Taft’s smile is sweet and languid. “You wanna be the one to tell Mandi she better binge Once Bitten before someone asks her something she won’t be able to answer?”
It never occurred to Freya that Mandi would need to. She winces. “She never watched the show?”
“A clip before the Banshee chemistry read. She wanted to be sure I was more than just a pretty face. I think she called my previous filmography full of ‘disposable teen dramas,’ and yeah, to some people, it was. I don’t even think my dad saw the pilot,” he says with a shrug. It doesn’t look as offhand as Freya thinks he wants it to be. “But the show meant something to me. Even though it was canceled, getting my first big chance changed my life.”
A rush of fierce pride fills her chest. His gratitude is one of the things she enjoys the most about him, she realizes. Taft isn’t one of those actors who sneers at how he got his start once he “made it.” Sure, she hasn’t known him long, but she knows others in his position would have put themselves on a pedestal long before. He never has. He doesn’t look down on anyone, not even himself and his start in teen dramas, and that’s an attractive quality.
“It wasn’t disposable to me, either,” she tells him. “What I said earlier wasn’t just flattery. You two were my favorite characters. This is embarrassing to admit, but for a long time I was more invested in your character’s love lives than my own.”
Taft grins. “See, now that’s the kind of ammunition you’re supposed to make me promise never to reveal to another living soul before you actually trust me with it.”