CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“What exactly did he say again?” Paige asked, guzzling a coffee and staring at Cat. They were huddled together over the playback monitor under a tent that offered zero protection from the icy fingers of winter that danced down Mistletoe Avenue.
She looked confused, which is not where Cat wanted Paige to be. She wanted her firmly in her camp, irate at the insinuation that had been so natural to Noah it had flown over his head.
“It wasn’t necessarily what he said. It was the way he said it. As if Sara knowing he was having sex with me would be worse than nuclear war. He was implying that I’m a slut.”
Her sister-in-law raised a finger, and Cat knew she wouldn’t like the words that would follow. “Let’s examine that,” Paige said.
“Stop being documentary director Paige, and be best friend Paige,” Cat ordered.
“First of all, if Noah said or did anything to hurt you, I’m first in line with the baseball bat for the Noah piñata.”
“Thank you,” Cat said, raising her hands to the sky.
“Now, once that the figurative Noah bashing is over, let’s look at his reaction from his side.”
Cat rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Don’t get defensive,” Paige told her. “Noah’s a single dad with a twelve-year-old girl. Do you remember what you were like at twelve?”
Cat shrugged. “Awesome.”
“Of course, you were. You were what? Playing baseball? Following your grandfather around job sites?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Great. What about thirteen and fourteen?”
Cat couldn’t stop the nostalgic grin. “Boys. I discovered boys.”
“Aha!” Paige was triumphant. “And how many good decisions did you make at that age?”
Cat wrinkled her nose remembering the incredibly stupid make out sessions, the desperate love notes, the heady delight of a new crush. “Pass.”
“I figured,” Paige grinned. “As a mother of a new human being, I’m dreading those years. Your body is coming of age, but your brain is light years behind. You don’t understand consequences. You aren’t capable of predicting the outcomes of your decisions. Parents spend those years trying to prevent you from making any kind of decision that could have life-altering complications.”
Cat slumped in her parka. She hated when Paige made sense.
“Now, you, my beautiful, talented, smart, hard-working sister-in-law, make choices that fit your life. You enjoy a healthy and safe sex life that doesn’t require the boundaries of marriage. You have your healthy, safe sex with single men who respect you and vice versa. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, and anyone who tries to shame you for it is jealous. But the difference is, you’re thirty-two. Not twelve.”
“I have the ability to pick the right partners because my hormones aren’t careening around in my head begging me to do really stupid things.” Cat kicked at a rock.
“Exactly. Sara’s a smart kid, but she’s about to be a hormonal smart kid, and parents will do whatever it takes to keep those hormones away from decisions. Religion, scare tactics, shaming. And maybe it’s not the best way,” Paige shrugged. “But when you’re in charge of keeping another human being alive and on track, you do what you have to do.”
“What are you and Gan going to do when Gabby hits the teenage years?” Cat asked, a half-smile at the thought of her brother with a teenage daughter.
“Move to an uninhabited island?” Paige joked.
“Ha. But seriously?” Paige was a fierce feminist, and there was no way she didn’t have a color-coded binder with life lessons according to developmental stage.
“I want Gabby to grow up knowing what she does with her body is ultimately her choice, and I want her to make smart choices and have the unalienable right to say no.”
“So, you have no idea,” Cat supplied.
“None at all. I’m hoping to keep her a toddler for the next decade until I can figure it out.”
Cat laughed and bumped Paige’s shoulder. “You and Gannon will be just fine.”
“And you and Noah could be more than fine if you let it happen,” Paige said pointedly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I say this with love. I think you’re looking for an out because your feelings for Noah and your spectacular casual sex are bigger than you expected.”
Cat scoffed even as the bells inside her head began ringing a warning. Ding ding ding.
“Agree to disagree,” she said. “Now, that the venting is over with. Let’s figure out how to film this reveal.”
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Cat smiled and delivered charming lines on command for the cameras for the rest of the day as Drake was mercilessly flirted with by the enigmatic Mrs. Pringle. For a grandmotherly figure in a wheelchair, the woman had some serious cougar running through her veins.
Drake, blushing constantly, didn’t seem to mind the attention. Cat’s instincts had been correct. Putting him on camera with the flirtatious Mrs. Pringle equaled TV ratings gold. They were adorable, and when Drake revealed the secret updates they’d done to make the woman’s kitchen more wheelchair friendly, she’d kissed him on the mouth. Cat was pretty sure Mrs. Pringle had slipped her co-star the tongue, too.
Filming kept her out of her head where she wanted to wallow. Was Paige right? Cat wondered, turning it over in her head as she climbed into the makeup trailer to freshen up her face. Was she looking for an out with Noah? Sex with him couldn’t even be classified as mere sex. Her extensive experience in that particular area informed her that there was something much bigger at stake every time he put his hands on her.
She’d never felt so consumed, so connected. When Noah was inside her, they were one. Not just two healthy adults having fun. He was stealing pieces of her soul, and she was letting him.
It was terrifying.
Cat flopped down in the makeup chair and frowned at her appearance. She looked tired. Ragged. Not like the glowing TV personality she was required to be.
She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not now. Not within striking distance of the highest ratings for a holiday special the network had ever seen. Not with her school being this close to becoming a reality. She was used to a million miles an hour. Used to being home less than she was on the road. Used to finding a new adventure around every corner.
“You look tired,” Drake made the announcement as Sylvie, the makeup artist, attacked the circles under Cat’s eyes for the second time in two hours. Drake looked annoyingly handsome in flannel. His hair styled with one careless shove of his hand.
“Gee, thanks. You look chubby and balding,” Cat shot back.
Drake ran a hand over his washboard abs. “Are you hangry? Because if you are, I can share my special paleo salted caramel brownies from Mrs. Pringle. I’d prefer not to, but I’m willing.” He shook the plastic wrapped chocolate in her face.
Cat gave him a tired smile. “Sorry for biting your head off. I’m not hungry.”
“You don’t have to do everything alone you know,” Drake pointed out, dropping the paper plate of brownies on the makeup table.
Cat opened one eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sliding right back into irritated.
“You’re trying to juggle thirty-six full-time jobs,” Drake pointed out, biting into one of said brownies. “You’re not getting enough sleep. You’re getting pissy. You’re spacing out.” He counted off the list of offenses on brownie-colored fingers.
“Okay! Okay! I get it. I’m a broody asshole.”
“You could make things a lot easier on yourself by leaning just a little. You don’t have to shoot every single scene. You don’t have to coordinate every day’s shooting schedule. You don’t have to single-handedly build your school brick by brick.”
Cat yawned despite herself. She was fucking exhausted.
“I get what you’re saying, but it’s just faster if I do it myself.”
“To a point. Then there’s the point where you end up suffering ‘dehydration and exhaustion.’” Drake added air quotes. Dehydration and exhaustion were the industry’s pretty code words for breakdowns and overdoses.
“I’m not going to crash,” Cat insisted carefully. Sylvie was lining her lips again, and she couldn’t move them.
“You’ve got Paige and me and Gannon and Henry, hell, even Noah. We’re a team. Use us,” Drake said.
She opened her mouth to argue with him. Noah was not a teammate. But Drake was faster than her denial and stuffed a tiny corner of delicious dessert past her lips.
“Eat your chocolate and stop thinking you can’t rely on us.” Drake sauntered off, leaving every female in a ten-yard radius staring after him.
Reflexively Cat checked her phone. Only she wasn’t looking at Instagram or her blog or Facebook. She was checking to see if Noah had texted her. He had a half-dozen times after she left his house. He’d also called twice. But she’d ignored them all. She didn’t want an apology from a man who didn’t know what he was apologizing for.
It looked as though he’d gotten the message. There were no texts or missed calls from Noah.