Page 81 of Sunny Goes Cold Turkey
Hairy is in there. I know it. I run through the door as fast I can with Immy in tow, and find that my instincts are correct. Hairy is galloping in circles around the main corridor, oblivious to the destruction her case of the zoomies is causing. A large vase is toppled and cracked. Couch cushions and pillows litter the floor.
“Hairy!” I bark at her. “Get over here!”
She barks back, enjoying our new game. Imogen scrambles down from my arms, racing to her dumb dog. By the time I reach them, Hairy is panting. Her jowls are hanging open in a wide smile. She’s proud of her work here.
“Bad girl!” I snap.
“Dad! She was just having fun!” Imogen throws her arms around Hairy’s neck.
“Anders.”
I whip around. Oliver is standing in the back entrance, looking winded like he chased us here.
“We need to sit down and talk. Is that okay, Immy?” He smiles at my daughter.
“Sure. I’m gonna sit down and talk to Hairy, too.” She tugs on the dog’s collar until Hairy relents and they wander to the other end of the long hall.
Oliver lowers onto the edge of the couch, waiting for me. I replace the cushions in the seat opposite him and sit.
“I messed up.” He spits out the words so fast I’m not sure I heard him right.
“What?”
“Don’t make me say it again, dorkwad.” He runs his hands down his face. “I dropped all the balls. I’ve been distracted. I’m forgetting stuff I never forget, doing stuff I never do. I shouldn’t have been with Mercer that night.” He sighs. “If there was no fire, Sunny would have had Imogen today. This wouldn’t have happened.” He’s picking up steam. “Did you know I forgot to make Sunny’s reservation in Minneapolis because I was up all night with Mercer—”
“No. Stop. Please” I hold up a hand like the action will remove the mental image. “I don’t want to know anything else.”
“I have to get this off my chest.” His penitent eyes plead with me. I’ve never seen him like this. “I screwed up. This is all my fauIt. I let Mercer get to me. She’s just so… so…”
He drags his hands through his hair with a frustrated smile. I think back on our long friendship and realize this might be the first time he’s experienced real romantic attraction. I’ve wondered when it would finally happen. I need to let him off the hook. Those feelings are nothing to mess with.
“Ollie, it’s okay.” I sink back into the cushions. “Remember in high school when I almost failed Trig because of Sadie Mortensen? Same deal. You studied with me. I passed. This’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“Yeah, except you were only screwing up your own grades back then. I’m slowing down production on a major film shoot.” He scowls. This guy hates being human.
“So what? We all screw up sometimes. Being human is okay. In fact, I kinda prefer human Oliver.” I sling my arm over the back of the couch. “It’ll work out, man. See who’s benefiting from my don’t-give-a-crap attitude now?”
“You are so annoying.” He glares at me, then his eyes soften. “But thank you.”
I just nod. This is as touchy feely as our friendship has ever been.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
Sunny’s smile pops into my mind, as has been the case all morning. I know what I want to do. “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her. We’re paying to get these repairs done. This place is going to be better than before. I’m hiring all of the best interior designers, contractors…” I trail off with a sigh. “Sunny is everything to me now.”
“I meant with the shoot, but that’s a smart move. Sunny is different in the best possible way. You’re a better man with her. You don’t deserve her, but you need her. Imogen needs her. If you can talk her into letting you stick around, you need to make it happen.” He stands. I guess we’re done here. “And normally I wouldn’t advocate throwing your fame and money at problems, but this time I won’t stop you. She deserves it.”
He’s right. Luckily, I already have a plan.
“Hey, Im? Want to help me with something?”
27. Sunny On the Red Carpet
I’m warming up in my favorite blue running shorts, grateful that it isn’t windy this morning like it was yesterday. Micah said to meet him out here at six, so here I am—not because I’m after anything from him. I love Anders and Micah is barely a blip on my radar. It’s incredible what one tiny pair of olive green running shorts is capable of. In less than thirty seconds, they undid thirteen years of physical attraction. I’m not in delusional love with Micah Watson anymore. And if love can be defeated by a pair of flimsy running shorts, was it even love to begin with?
I laugh at myself. I’ve been such an idiot this last decade or so. I’m still waiting for the man because it would be crazy to ignore his offer, right? I’m dying to know what Micah Watson has to talk to me about. I can’t wait to tell Anders about whatever happens today, and about the shorts. He’s going to love to hear about those.
I pull one sneakered foot behind me to stretch my quads, surveying the entrance to the resort. Either the paparazzi are giving up or they are late sleepers. It’s empty out here and I’m happy about that.
