Tuesday arrived, but Owen didn’t. Instead, he’d texted to say he and Teddy had read and loved their revisions to the script. As such, they’d decided to fly back to Baltimore with the rest of the cast on the studio’s private plane on Thursday so they could run lines on the flight.

Fiona felt guilty about her happiness in stealing two more nights alone with Asher, wondering for the hundredth time how to broach the subject of Owen and Asher’s threesome dream. In the end, she kept her concerns to herself and took full advantage of the extra alone time.

Tuesday night started with a bubble bath and ended with her tied to the hotel bed, spread-eagle, while Asher did dirty, naughty, amazing things to her. Wednesday’s sexual escapades included a spanking and her vibrator—and Asher, damn him, was actually making her a believer when it came to anal play. Even Happy Clam was starting to be convinced.

According to Asher, the audition had gone very well, so when Owen showed up at the pub with Teddy and the cast on Thursday night, his spirits were still sky-high, and everyone was more than ready to help him celebrate.

Fiona watched the first round of drinks go down, and then the second. Asher pulled her aside.

“He’s happy.”

Fiona was thinking the same thing. “Really happy. Happier than I think I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“Yeah. I know. I was sitting here trying to figure out the last time I saw him like this.”

“That’s easy,” Fiona said. “It was the day we found out the network was optioning Wild Winters.”

“Oh yeah. Owen didn’t land for a week. It was great,” Asher said, smiling as he recalled Owen’s utter ecstasy. “It’s funny. Seeing him now makes me think that lately…”

Asher didn’t finish his statement, but his words matched her very thoughts at the moment. “That he hasn’t been himself the past year or so. I hadn’t noticed it until tonight. Didn’t realize he was unhappy until I saw him really happy.”

“Yeah.”

It was obvious neither of them was sure what to do with that information. Fiona tucked it away, promising to bring it up to Owen when they were all back in California.

Then she considered the other conversation that had to happen first—and she sent up a silent prayer that Owen would still be speaking to her once they returned to the West Coast.

“I think I’m going to spend the night upstairs,” Fiona said, wishing she’d figured out a better reason for doing so than the lame excuse she was about to offer. It had taken her nearly an hour to come up with the stupid “we need our sleep and none of us will get it if I go back with you guys tonight” line.

To her surprise, Asher didn’t ask for an excuse. “That’s probably a good idea. The next few days are going to get nuts around here with rehearsals and filming. Add in the cast and crew and the Collinses, and it’s going to be tough to steal some time just for us.”

Fiona considered Asher’s use of “us,” knowing that most likely included Owen. She needed to talk to them—together—to explain her feelings, but Asher had a great point. They were facing long days surrounded by way too many people, who would all be placing demands on them.

Not to mention…Owen’s happiness.

Or Asher’s, for that matter. Sleeping in his arms had been bliss for her, but had Asher wished Owen was there with them? The more she was with Asher, the more evident it became that his sexual prowess was off the charts. Maybe threesome sex, like bondage, was part of his sexual makeup. Something he wanted…needed, even.

Fiona was in no hurry to potentially hurt either—or both—of her best friends, but she also wasn’t the type to sit around and hold her tongue. If only the timing on all of this wasn’t so shitty.

“So, we party like it’s 1999?” Fiona asked, as Prince’s hit started playing.

“Hell yeah.” Asher grabbed her hand, leading her to the dance floor, where they were joined by Teddy and Owen. The four of them danced with reckless abandon, a pack of lunatics, laughing and shouting the lyrics and living for the moment.

These were the times that Fiona loved best.

Just the four of them.

Young. Free. Wild.

Their joke about waiting for Owen to land held a grain of truth, because he didn’t. The man was a thousand feet high and untouchable. According to Asher, by the time they returned to the hotel that night—sans her—Owen and Teddy took the room with two queen beds, giving Asher the king room. Apart from giving her a hello hug and quick kiss on the cheek when he got in, Owen hadn’t really touched her. More than that, she got a sense he was avoiding her. He was acting like their night together had never happened. Business as usual.

Friday had been a weird day. They had all agreed to sleep in until two in the afternoon in order to “switch their internal clocks” so they were ready for the two a.m. practices starting that night.

Fiona wished she’d managed it. Sleep had eluded her, so instead, she and her parents met for breakfast, then she wound up waiting around for hours, fretting over her love life. It had gone from nonexistent to seriously complicated in the blink of an eye. She had considered talking to her mom about it, but in the end, she held her tongue, simply telling her mom about the breakup with Brock.

By the time the guys woke up that day, Al and the rest of the cast were in the hotel suite, running lines, and Fiona was swept up in the general hubbub. She hadn’t managed to buy any time alone with Asher or Owen. Worse than that was the fact neither of them appeared to even want to sneak away to talk about things between them.

The same thing avoidance mingled with nonstop activity surrounding the show had happened Saturday, and then they’d spent nearly fourteen hours on Sunday bouncing around the city, doing location shots. She was grateful for the reprieve even as she constantly wondered what the hell was going on.

She’d decided enough was enough. She would wait until they filmed the finale and then she was putting her foot down, grabbing both Owen and Asher and making them sit down and talk to her.

Fiona had spent three days praying for Monday, and now that it had arrived, she was a bundle of nerves and nothing was any better. Earlier today, during a meeting with the cast and crew, Owen had asked her, Asher and Teddy to stand next to him and had called them his family, his best friends, and the best things that ever happened to him. He claimed Wild Winters wouldn’t exist without them. Everyone had lifted a glass and toasted the team, and while Fiona was touched by his comments, her gut had churned with all the things they had yet to say.

How would he feel about her after she told him she was in love with Asher?

Just Asher?

And what if Asher wanted all or nothing? What if she wasn’t enough? There was no question she was far more inexperienced sexually than he was. What if he craved someone with more knowledge? Someone like Christina?

The night of filming had finally arrived and instead of being excited, Fiona was annoyed and frustrated. And okay, horny. Happy Clam was no longer satisfied hitching a ride with the Cadillac of vibrators. She wanted Asher.

She hovered by the doorway to the apartment, watching the beehive of activity, unaware she was frowning until Sunnie approached her.

“Holy crap. What is going on with you, Fiona? You went from laid and happy to,” Sunnie ran her finger up and down with a grimace, “whatever this grumpy-Gus thing is.”

Fiona looked at Sunnie with a scowl. “Owen and Asher are avoiding me.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know why. We went from getting it on last weekend to this weekend, where neither one of them will touch me. No kisses, no hand-holding. I’m starting to think I misread everything. I thought they wanted a threesome, but now I’m afraid they don’t want anything at all. What if they’re trying to figure out how to break things off?”

That uncomfortable thought hadn’t hit her until this morning when she woke up alone. Again.

For the past couple of days, she’d been trying to figure out how to tell Asher she didn’t want a threesome and Owen that she didn’t…want him. God. She couldn’t even think about saying those words without her stomach doing a million flip-flops.

Now the idea that they might be stressing about letting her down easy was killing her.

Sunnie shook her head. “They’d be fools to do that. You’re the bomb, the best. I bet they’re both just worked up over the finale. Tomorrow, everything will fall into place.”

“Thanks, Sunnie. I hope that’s true.”

Her cousin drifted over to where a large group of their family stood, excitedly talking, all of them thrilled by the chance to be extras. Padraig had returned home that morning, and she was relieved to see that he looked better. The dark circles under his eyes were gone, and he seemed much more like the old Paddy as he smiled and chatted with the others. There was no way he’d ever get over Mia, but it looked like he was maybe starting to find a way to move on.

Fiona didn’t join them. She’d be a buzzkill. While she appreciated Sunnie’s support, she’d had too many sleepless nights since Thursday. She was a woman at the end of her rope. It ended tonight.

As soon as filming wrapped, she was pulling her elusive men away from the crowd and they were talking it out. All of it.

Unfortunately…that wasn’t happening right now.

While the pub had closed a couple hours earlier, the place was buzzing as spotlights and cameras were set up, positioned and then repositioned. Al had grabbed Asher, the two of them deep in discussion fighting over some line they thought the censors would ping, and Teddy was surrounded by the Collins girls as he entertained her cousins with stories about some of his funniest/worst dates.

Owen and the other cast members were doing some last-minute rehearsing, in between calls from the crew asking them to stand in various places so the lighting and camera angles could be checked.

“This is very exciting.”

Fiona glanced at her mother and rolled her eyes. “You do stuff like this nearly every night, setting up the stage for your concerts.”

Teagan grinned sheepishly. “Maybe, but for some reason this feels different. Probably because I’m on the sidelines and able to enjoy the frenetic energy without having any responsibilities.”

“That makes sense.”

“Your dad and I are so proud of you, Fee. Proud of the woman you’ve become. I used to worry all the time about you and your sister, about your unconventional childhood and whether or not it was right to keep you gallivanting all over the country on that bus with tutors instead of giving you a real home.”

“I had the best life ever, Mom.” Fiona knew Ailis hadn’t always felt the same, but considering her willingness to hop back on a bus with Hunter, she suspected she was singing a different tune now.

“You’ve always been so confident and strong. Always known where you wanted to go. You know, you told Pop that you were going to be a storyteller when you were just five years old.”

“I did?” Fiona didn’t remember that.

“Yep. He reminded me of it this afternoon.”

“I always thought my future plans were to be a princess.”

Teagan laughed. “That’s what you told us. But when you were with Pop, it was a storyteller.”

It made a weird sort of sense to Fiona that she’d only tell Pop Pop the most secret desire of her heart. She looked across the pub and found him at his usual spot at the bar. One of the makeup artists was laughing loudly and powdering his face as he regaled her with a story of his own. She may not have been in Baltimore often, but that didn’t mean Pop Pop hadn’t made a lasting impression on her.

“I better go check on him,” Fiona said, suddenly wanting the comfort only her granddaddy could provide. “Make sure he’s ready for his sitcom debut.”

Fiona walked across the room to him, knowing there was another secret desire in her heart, and right now, Pop Pop was the only one she could tell.

The makeup artist had just walked away when she reached him.

“You look very handsome.”

“Never thought I’d be wearing makeup at my age.” He didn’t appear to mind though. That was the best thing about Pop Pop. He viewed every day as a blessing and every new experience as an adventure.

“Or starring in a sitcom?”

He chuckled. “Not sure one line makes me the star.”

She climbed onto the stool next to him. “You’ll steal the show. Even Owen says so.”

“Well, we’ll see. I suspect if nothing else, everyone around here will be glad my time in the spotlight is over. I think I might be annoying them a wee bit, practicing that line.”

Fiona laughed as he gave her a wink that proved he knew he’d gone overboard on the rehearsing.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on in here?” Pop Pop asked, tapping the side of her head lightly. “Or better yet, in here,” he continued, as he pointed to her heart.

“I think I made a mistake.”

Pop Pop waited for her to elucidate.

“I agreed to something I’m not comfortable with, and I don’t know how to change my mind.”

“That’s easy. You say ‘I changed my mind.’”

“Even if it hurts someone or disappoints them?”

“Even then. Because lying doesn’t fix things. It’s the coward’s way out. And you, my fair Fiona, are not a coward.”

“Again with the fair.” Pop Pop had called her his fair Fiona for as long as she could remember. And while she knew he meant it in the “pretty” sense, she always joked that she lacked the fairness gene.

“You’re still no better at sharing, I see.”

She laughed until she realized her grandfather knew exactly what they were talking about. “I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m terrible at it.”

He laughed. “Which young man—”

“Places on the set!” the director yelled.

Fiona looked around and sighed.

Pop Pop patted her cheek affectionately. “We’ll finish this talk afterward.”

She grinned. “Break a leg.”

Fiona was halfway back to Sunday’s Side, where she, her parents, Asher, Teddy and a handful of other people planned to watch as much of the action as they could. Before she made it, Owen caught her around the waist. He tugged her toward him for a hug and a quick kiss that was more friendly than romantic, but a shock either way, considering he hadn’t touched her since returning from Hollywood.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“For luck.” His smile covered his face, and it was infectious.

“You’ve lost your mind since that audition.”

He laughed loudly. “I’m just happy.” He raised his arms in the air like he’d just gone twenty rounds with Ali. “I am the king of the world.”

Fiona was starting to worry about what would happen if Owen didn’t get the part. He was downright giddy.

She rolled her eyes as she walked away, then took her place next to Asher and her parents. Asher was frowning. It was clear he’d just watched her exchange with Owen, but she wasn’t sure why that would make him mad.

She was surprised again when Asher placed a hand on her waist, tugging her closer to him. Then he left his hand there, even when it was obvious her dad was watching them.

“What?” he asked when she gave him a narrow-eyed glance.

“Thought you forgot about me.”

He winced, flashing her a guilty smile. “Can we talk tonight after the show? You, me and Owen?”

For the first time, she noticed that Asher didn’t appear to have been sleeping either. The dark circles had been hidden by his glasses, as had the stress lines in the corners of his eyes. Even so, how had she missed that?

Too preoccupied by her own anxiety.

She nodded. “Yeah. We need to talk.”

His frown returned. Wow. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation either. She tried not to read too much into it, tried to ignore the piecing pain in her chest that warned she was about to get her heart broken.

“Fiona—” Asher started.

But the director yelled out again, “Quiet on the set!”

For the next two hours, she and Asher stood together, watching the finale unfold and, despite the apprehension of what was going to come after the show, they laughed with everyone else, delighted to see their words translated so beautifully when spoken by talented actors.

Before they reached the last scene—with Pop Pop’s big line—her parents leaned toward them, declaring it the best Wild Winters show yet.

All of them tried to press closer as the director yelled “action!” to start rolling on the last scene. The bedraggled cast was sitting exhaustedly around a table in the center of the pub—Owen with one shoe on, per the storyline—when a man dressed in a bear costume walked in.

Pop Pop stood up and delivered his line perfectly.

“Hey, did anybody call for a singing bear?”

“Cut,” the director said, “and that’s a wrap!”

Everyone in the room erupted in joyous laughter.

Tris and Padraig came out from behind the bar, slapping Pop Pop on the back. Her cousins rose from their various places around the bar, chattering nonstop about how amazing the experience had been.

The noise level in the bar was insane, but that wasn’t obvious until it died suddenly as music unexpectedly started playing, and all the TV screens in the bar—which had been showing prerecorded sporting events—flashed to white.

Fiona recognized the song instantly, and her first thought was “ugh” as Justin Timberlake’s “That Girl” started playing. For one thing, the song was too slow for the current celebratory atmosphere, and for another, Brock—the biggest JT fan in the world—had declared this was “their song” one night at a charity function as they danced together. Personally, she would have picked something—anything—else, and she’d decided then and there his JT devotion was unnatural and annoying.

Then she realized there was something showing on all the televisions. Pictures of her and…

“Oh fuck,” she muttered.

Asher was still standing next to her, but Fiona couldn’t find the courage to look in his direction.

She didn’t have to. She knew from his softly murmured, “shit,” he was watching the show as well.

Photo after photo of her and Brock flashed before her as “their song” played.

Owen walked over, frowning as he looked around the room. “Where is he?”

Fiona glanced from Owen to Asher. “He’s supposed to be in Dubai until May.”

Teddy stepped next to Owen, shaking his head in disgust. “Fucking Mr. Big Gesture.”

None of them noticed the bear had moved closer to them until a furry paw reached out, touching Owen on the shoulder to move him aside.

Fiona watched in fascinated horror as the bear dropped to one knee in front of her, a ring box in his other furry hand.

“No,” she whispered as he pushed off the large, ridiculous-looking bear head and popped open the box. “Brock.”

He was wearing the same cocky smile he pulled out every time he went for the big gesture. She took note of the confidence in his expression, his assuredness that this time he’d topped them all. There was no doubt in his eyes that this gesture, like all the others, would win her back.

As the last strains of the song faded, Fiona looked up at the TV to see a live feed. Clearly Brock was in cahoots with one of the cameramen, because her face at that moment was being projected for the entire pub to see.

She looked back down at Brock, shaking her head slowly. The idiot was too proud of himself to recognize the horror on her face.

“I called Al right after Valentine’s Day,” Brock started. This was always his favorite part. Explaining how he’d managed to pull off the big surprise. “He and I cooked up this scheme with a lot of the crew members.” He looked around, giving a couple of the cameramen the thumbs-up.

Fiona’s hands clenched into fists as she felt the unnerving desire to punch her ex-boyfriend’s lights out. Had he always been this obnoxious with his gestures, or was he just getting too accustomed to her falling for them?

“Brock,” she said louder, hoping to halt the rest.

It was pointless. He was on a roll.

“Fiona Adams. I’m hoping that here, in the presence of your family and our friends, you’ll make me the happiest man alive by agreeing to marry me.”

Fiona didn’t reply. She was too busy dissecting the proposal, trying to figure out who here was his friend, and sarcastically acknowledging that a marriage to her wasn’t going to impact his happiness in any way. Then she focused on what he didn’t say.

He didn’t say “I love you.”