Chapter 2: Celine

“Your chicken pot pie is what dreams are made of,” I tell Gran, helping myself to a second serving. My trainer will bitch at me in the morning but right now, I don’t care. 

Sitting in Gran’s dining room, surrounded by the cinnamon and potpourri scent, eating a warm meal, fills me with nostalgia. I was here in April to celebrate Gran’s ninetieth, but it was a busy day, and the house was filled with friends and family. 

Right now, it’s quiet, peaceful, simple. Reliable. Just the way I remember. 

Beau makes a sound in his throat, and I look up. It’s a tampered down sound of amusement except it’s at odds with his narrowed, sharp eyes. I narrow mine back, waiting for him to expand. 

“Gran’s pot pie? Celine, you eat at fancy, Michelin-starred restaurants in LA,” he reminds me as if I’ve forgotten. As if I haven’t worked my ass off to eat at those restaurants, only to realize that some things, most things, taste sweeter when shared with the people you love. 

Clearly, it’s a lesson I learned too late. 

Instead of responding, I take another bite of chicken pot pie. Bea ducks her head, while Cole, her hockey playing boyfriend, shoots Beau a warning look. Gran, with zero fucks to give, smacks her grandson in the back of his head. 

“Ow,” he winces. 

“That’s all you have to say?” Gran asks, her voice stern. Another thing I remember. I start to smile. 

Beau looks right at me, and my smile dies on my lips. Because he’s looking at me like he can’t stand me. Like he hates that I’m sitting here, in his family’s house, when it used to feel like my home too.

“Excuse me, Celine,” Beau says by way of apology. 

I drop my chin in acceptance. He scrapes the last bite of food from his place and grabs it, moving to shove back from the table. 

Tension radiates off Beau’s shoulders. He doesn’t want me here; he doesn’t like seeing me in his space. Is it because the past is painful for him to remember too? Or is it because he doesn’t want me as part of his present? Maybe both. The thought saddens me. 

Even with his rigid posture and standoffish body language, he looks good. Scratch that; he looks amazing. Infinite fire emojis. His shoulders, packed with anger he’d like to hurl my way, are broad, his biceps stretching the material of his T-shirt. After years in the military, followed by hockey training, Beau Turner is in the best shape of his life. 

While his body is rocking, his energy unsettles me. The boyish tilt of his smirk has hardened into a manly scowl. The bright amusement of his slate blue eyes has dimmed into a haunted darkness. Beau grew up but he also changed in ways I’ll never understand. Not counting our seeing each other at Gran’s party, we haven’t spoken since that ill-fated day he surprised me in LA. 

It was the day I got my big break. Professionally, it was my unicorn day. 

Personally, it was the day I broke my own heart. Although, I didn’t know it at the time. I didn’t fully realize it until years later, until moments like now. When the nostalgia of my teenage years wraps around me like English Ivy, and I don’t know if I should sink into its hold or try to break free. 

Beau stills as Gran tightens her hold. When she’s sure he’s not going to bolt, she resumes eating. 

“How long will filming take?” Cole, thoughtful and empathetic, asks to redirect the attention. 

Bea gives him a grateful smile and I take a moment to drink in the sweet first love before me. Bea is like a little sister to me and witnessing her happiness, with a great guy, fills my cup. 

“Three to four months. I’m anticipating staying until the end of the year,” I say. 

“Is it weird to be back?” Cole asks again. 

“Kind of,” I admit, laughing. I place my fork down and lean back in my chair, taking my wine glass with me. I take a long sip. “It’s nostalgic. In many ways, it seems like my entire life is different now but coming home, it still feels the same.”

“Yeah, not much has changed here,” Beau mutters. 

Cole and Bea ignore him. 

“Where are you staying?” Bea asks. 

At this, Beau’s eyes snap to mine. I feel his stare on my profile, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze.

Beau scoffs. “You can tell us if you’ve got the penthouse at the Premier Hotel or something. We’re not going to judge you. Well, not too much.”

Gran sighs. 

I smirk. “Actually, I’m staying off Hartzel Lane.”

Bea’s eyebrows furrow. “In the woods?”

“Basically.” I laugh again. “It’s so quiet there. It’s—” 

“In the middle of nowhere,” Beau chimes in again, his jaw tight. “What property did you rent? There aren’t many. Why aren’t you staying with your parents if you’re not at a hotel?”

“Mom and Dad relocated a few years ago,” I respond, wondering how he didn’t know that. The realization that he’s tried so hard to block out all mention of me, he didn’t even know my family left Tennessee, cuts. It shouldn’t, but it does. 

Surprise ripples over Beau’s expression and it’s satisfying, knowing I surprised him on some level. “To where?” 

“California. Pasadena, so not far from me.”

“And Marisa and Louis?” He asks about my siblings.

“Marisa is at university, in Texas. Louis is expecting a baby.” I smile when I say it. I can’t wait to be an aunt. “He and his wife are in Oregon.”

Beau shakes his head, as if shaking off his surprise. “So, no one is here anymore.”

“Nope.”

“And you still wanted to film a movie here?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I toss back. 

His mouth snaps shut, and he averts his gaze, apparently not liking my sass. That’s okay; I don’t appreciate his attitude either. 

“Is the place you’re staying…okay?” Cole asks tentatively, bringing the conversation around. “It’s secure?”

I wave a hand. “Yeah, it’s good. I haven’t had much time there yet. I dropped my bags and came here for dinner.”

Beau’s eyes narrow again. “You just flew in today?”

I nod.

“What property is it?” he asks again. 

“The Klingers’ old place. You remember it?”

Beau’s expression is carefully neutral. A long time ago, a bunch of kids from our graduating class had a bonfire by the Klingers’ old place. Beau and I hooked up in their barn. “The Klingers’ old place…”

“It’s so peaceful out there,” Bea sighs dreamily. 

“It really is. I thought it’d be nice to have the change of scenery, the change of pace. Quiet coffee mornings with chirping birds,” I explain. 

Beau heaves out a sigh, as if he’s single-handedly keeping humanity alive. “It’s in the middle of nowhere. What if you have paparazzi or stalkers hounding you for autographs or photos or whatever?”

I arch an eyebrow, surprised that that’s his first thought. But then again, it’s in his nature to be cautious, to worry. “My security detail starts on Monday.”

“And until then?” Beau asks. 

I grin. “I think I’ll be okay for a few days. It’s home, after all.” I tip my head toward Bea. “I may even go wild and buy a car while I’m here. My first one,” I add, the anticipation filling me with a bubble of giddiness. I’ve waited a long time to buy my own car. It’s not that I haven’t owned vehicles before. I bought Mom and Dad new cars years ago and have been gifted a few cars over the years as well. 

But I’ve never entered a dealership and purchased a car to drive myself around in. In LA, I have a driver. The past few years, I’ve hardly been there as I’ve been on set, mostly in Estonia, filming the fantasy series Midnight Moon that made my career. 

Right now, I have a driver on standby. Depending on what my security team decides next week, this may be my chance to drive myself around like a regular person.

Cole shakes his head ruefully. “You got a license?”

“Yes!” I tap the table. “But I haven’t driven myself around in years. I’m looking forward to the…normalcy of it all.”

“Most of us would take the driver,” Beau quips.

I ignore him. 

“How’d you get here tonight?” he asks after a beat.

I roll my eyes. “Driver.”

Gran cackles.

I grin back, so happy to be in her home. 

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. 

I squeeze back, grateful. “It’s good to be home, Gran.”

“It’s good to have you here, my dear.”

At the end of a long day, I wanted a refuge, a slice of normal that’s been lacking in my life for too damn long. I want…home. That’s why I’m renting the Klingers’ place, away from the pull of Knoxville, away from the noise and the cameras and the swarms of people. 

I want a slice of peace; instead, I’ve got Beau Turner glaring at me like I ate the last slice of Annabelle’s buttermilk pie. 

Bea and Cole stand and begin to clear away our dinner plates. I hop up to help but Gran’s hand on my arm stops me. 

“I’ll be back with the pie and coffee,” she says pointedly. 

I sit back down as Gran follows Bea and Cole into the kitchen. 

When it’s just Beau and me in the dining room, Beau leans back in his chair. He interlaces his fingers, his hands folded on top of the table. He watches me intently. “You don’t feel at home in LA?” 

I blow out a sigh, wondering what his angle is with this line of questioning. What does he want me to say? That I’m lonely, that I still think of him, that I regret not investing in our relationship the way he did when I had the chance? 

“What are you doing here, Celine? Why’d you come back?”

His words punch through me like a physical blow. I drain my wine glass. 

“I could be nominated for an Oscar for this performance,” I say softly. 

Disappointment colors his eyes and I know it was the wrong thing to say. My stomach knots, guilt and pressure and frustration with myself flaring. 

“So, it’s just about the work,” Beau comments. 

I arch an eyebrow. “You want it to be about something else?”

He glares at me, his mouth twisting into a frown. I wait him out, silently hoping he gives me something—but what?—to work with. Beau clears his throat. “Not even a little,” he says with a finality that cuts through my thin tough-girl bravado. 

I drop my head, studying the embroidered tablecloth. 

“Things are different now,” he adds, not unkindly.

I nod.

“Here comes pie!” Bea announces, balancing several small dishes. She places a slice down in front of me. “Thanks for bringing this. It’s my favorite.”

I force a smile; my cheeks ache. “I know.” I pick up my fork and take a bite, my eyes dropping closed as the delicious, decadent taste—of Sunday mornings of my childhood, with Dad reading the newspaper and Mom making coffee—rolls through me. 

Gran appears with the coffee. 

“Thank you, Gran.” 

“You know, you’re welcome to stay here,” she offers. “I’d love a roommate.”

“Hey!” Bea waves her hand. “You got me.”

“Pfft.” Gran flicks a dismissive hand. Her eyes dart between Bea and Cole. “You’re a woman of the night; we all know it.”

Bea blushes, her cheeks and neck turning a bright red color. Cole bites into an apple, the loud crunch like a firecracker in the silent dining room. Beau swears. 

Gran smacks the back of his head. “Not at the table.”

“Sorry, Gran,” he murmurs. 

I snort out a laugh, smiling at her since I know her offer is sincere. It warms me from the inside out that Gran still holds me in high regard even though things between Beau and me didn’t work out. “Thanks, Gran. But I’m looking forward to spending some time here on my own. To just be.”

Gran studies me for a long moment before patting my hand in acceptance. 

“If you need anything,” Cole starts, “I live close by and I’m pretty handy. I could—” 

“I’ll take you home and check out your place,” Beau cuts him off. 

Bea hides her grin behind a gulp of coffee. 

Gran nods approvingly. “He finally comes to his senses,” she murmurs. 

“That’s not necessary,” I say. “I can call—”

“Oh, don’t make your driver come back out all this way,” Gran cuts me off. “Beau’s gotta pass right by the Klingers’ place on his way home.”

“Exactly,” Beau agrees, his eyes flashing to mine, as if it’s settled. Then, in a lower tone, “At least let me check it out, Celine. Make sure you’re safe.”

It’s hard to argue with that. Beau always was a protector. He brought up his younger siblings after his parents’ death, he served in the Marines, he always puts the safety and well-being of others above everything else. 

The fact that that hasn’t changed makes me breathe out a little sigh of relief. 

“Okay,” I agree. “Thank you, Beau.”

“Don’t thank him yet.” Gran pats my hand. “Cole is handier. And much more pleasant company.”

Bea giggles. 

Cole winks. “You trying to butter me up so I’ll sign up for another dance class?” 

“Is it working?” Gran asks. 

I sputter out a laugh, missing this family. Missing the broody man sitting across from me who looks like he can’t stand me one minute and would drop everything to help me the next. 

But just because Beau is a protector by nature doesn’t mean he still harbors feelings for me. His offering me a ride should be taken at face value. If the past few years without him have taught me anything, it’s that he can certainly hold a grudge. 

By the steel edge ringing his irises, that’s not going to change any time soon. And it’s best I remember it.