Second to None, page 4
“Your square is my favorite,” Maddox said.
I laughed softly and licked the dripped ice cream from my cone. When we had been younger, I’d claimed Reynolds Square as my own. “Josephine Reynolds Square,” I’d proclaimed for all to hear.
“Mine too.”
“What’s your plan after this?”
I shrugged. “Anything but going home.”
“Don’t want to see your mom?”
“Would you want to see yours?”
Maddox cringed and ditched the empty ice cream tray in a trash can. “Not particularly.”
Marley and Maddox had been left at their Gran and Gramps’s house at the age of two. Their mother only showed up when she needed money in between the guys she was seeing. She’d never been a mother to either of them. We had that in common.
“Are you going back to Atlanta to see your dad before school starts?”
I sighed and shrugged. “Yeah. I have to finish packing, and Dad is going to drive me down for move-in. He’s so excited. But I’m worried about him.”
“Why?”
“Only-child thing. Plus …” I bit my lip and cut myself off.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
He was right. It was important, and I worried about my dad. I loved him, but he was relentless in the pursuit of his art and little else.
“I just worry about him. After I leave, he won’t have child support checks anymore. It’ll be hard on him.”
Maddox squeezed my hand and then seemed to realize he’d done it and pulled back. “That’s a lot to take on yourself. Your dad will make it work.”
“I hope so,” I said, clearing my throat. “Is Gran expecting you back?”
He shook his head. He looked no more ready to leave than I did. “We could head to the River Walk.”
“I’ll buy you a Wet Willie’s.”
He rolled his eyes. “We don’t have to drink to have a good time.”
“No, but it sure is fun. Plus, alcoholic slushies.”
“I have to drive, and Gran would kill me.”
“True,” I said with a laugh. “But when we’re at SCAD, I will convince you to get one.”
“I heard SCAD is all house parties.”
I shrugged. “Fine. I’ll get you drunk at a house party.”
He rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling as we headed out of the square. We took Abercorn to Bay Street and down the atrociously steep stone steps that led down to River Street. I was glad that I was in sandals on the walk down. Girls took the steps like fawns. Their ankles teetering and nearly collapsing the entire way down.
The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky over the Savannah River a kaleidoscope of pink and orange. I leaned forward against the railing and watched the tourists pile onto the sunset paddleboat tour.
“I wish I had my sketchbook with me,” Maddox said thickly.
I turned to face him. “Why?”
He stepped forward, bridging the distance between us. “Because you look beautiful.”
I swallowed, chewing on my hair to keep from reaching for him. I couldn’t do this with Maddox. I’d told Marley that I wouldn’t do anything with him. I’d made that promise in good faith. No matter how hard it had been to keep my word when we spent all summer together.
“What are you nervous about?” he asked, tentatively reaching forward and drawing the hair out of my mouth.
“We can’t do this.”
He arched an eyebrow and moved closer still. “Why not?”
“I promised Marley.”
Now, his eyebrows shot straight up. “Promised her what exactly?”
“That I’d stay away from you.”
“Did you need to stay away from me?” A step closer. So close. Kissably close.
“Yes,” I whispered. I tipped my head back to look up into his dark eyes. “Remember spring break sophomore year? When we went to Philip’s party and almost kissed?”
“Yeah. I figured you didn’t want to. I stayed away after that because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I wasn’t. I just … didn’t want to hurt you or my friendship with Mars.” I glanced away, crossing my arms over my chest. I’d never had a moment like this with a guy before. I’d never had anyone else in my life like Maddox before either.
Maddox tipped my chin up, so I was looking up into his face again. “Josie, did you want to kiss me?”
“Yes,” I forced out.
“Do you want to kiss me now?”
He didn’t wait for my answer. The word was already on my lips and clear on my face. I’d wanted nothing more than to kiss Maddox Nelson for two long years.
He tugged me tight against him and crushed our lips together. All the timidity fell off his shoulders as he took control of me. He’d been holding back more than I had, judging by the passion in his kiss. The slant of that mouth against mine that sent butterflies thwacking away in my stomach. The grip of his hands as he slid one hand around my waist and the other up into my hair.
A soft moan escaped my lips at the first brush of his tongue against mine. He tasted sweet from the ice cream. The feeling was like I was sinking into a down comforter. Like I’d always been meant to be in this moment.
I hadn’t realized that I was clutching on to his shirt for dear life. I slung my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through the curly strands at the nape. I’d wondered what it would be like to run my fingers through the unruly mess. I’d mussed them before, but this was wholly different.
Every part of this kiss was wholly different.
Body, mind, and soul, I belonged right here on the River Walk with this man.
A whistle broke us apart with a soft laugh.
“Guess we were giving them a show,” I said softly. My lips swollen and cheeks flushed.
“Let ’em see.”
“Since when did you become a rebel?”
“Since the girl of my dreams was in my arms.”
A rush of emotion hit my chest at those words. The girl of his dreams. No one had ever talked to me like that.
I rested my head against his chest as he drew me in closer. We swayed slightly as the sun fully sank below the skyline. I didn’t know where this was going or what was coming next. Next week, we’d both be at SCAD with a whole new college experience before us. Anything could happen. But I planned to revel in this feeling for as long as I possibly could. With a world of possibility between us.
6
SAVANNAH
PRESENT
A cloud of dust erupted out of a box. I fell over backward to escape it as I coughed violently.
My eyes burned as I straightened to a sitting position and stared at the pile of dusty boxes my mother had recommended I go through while I was here. I’d agreed because I hadn’t thought that I’d really left anything here after high school and college. Apparently, I’d been wrong. There were several large boxes full of my stuff. Too much to get through before I met Amelia for lunch.
I peered into the first box and found it full of old clothes. I removed my favorite pair of low-rise jeans with dismay. God, I hoped these never came back in style.
Well, most of this would have to be donated. It was a decade out of style. And even if I could get my ass into those jeans again, I wasn’t planning to wear them. I’d be damned if I had to go back to showing off eight inches of torso in a crop top.
I closed the dusty box back up and eased back onto my hands. My eyes scanned the half-full attic. I’d had no idea that my mother was a pack rat. She didn’t seem to throw anything away.
I hopped to my feet and walked over to my high school bedroom set. I ran a finger through the dust on the white four-poster. She’d clearly just moved it upstairs. There were four or five wildly out-of-date full bedroom sets that I picked out based on the headboards and the various mattresses.
The rocking chair that used to sit on the back porch for ages was up here. I moved the box that was on top of it to the floor, picked up the book underneath it, and sank into the chair, letting it lull me.
This was one of the few possessions that I’d coveted from my mother. It had belonged to her mother, and she hadn’t let her husband, Edward, get rid of it when they moved in together. I didn’t know what it was doing up here if she had fought so hard for it in the ’80s.
I glanced down at the small book in my hand. I flipped it over to look at the cover, but the dark blue leather binding revealed nothing. I cracked it open to the first page and stopped my rocking. The front page read Diary of Rebecca Charlotte Turner.
Turner.
That was my mother’s maiden name. Before she’d taken Edward’s last name of Montgomery. I’d gotten Reynolds from my dad. How old was this diary? Thirty years old?
The pages were yellowing from disuse and likely all the dust collected in the attic. I glanced at the door once and then turned to the first page. June 7, 1988 was scrawled in my mother’s neat hand. I skimmed the page. It was a rambling count of the beginning of her summer vacation and how her parents had brought her to Savannah the summer before she was to attend the University of Georgia. They barely had enough money to afford a room for the three of them for the summer, and she was miserable.
I gulped. That was the summer she’d met my dad. I only knew that because I’d begged Dad to tell me what happened, thinking the whole thing must have been so romantic at one point. I’d been young and dumb. He’d said they met the summer before college and my mother was pregnant by the new year. That was all he’d say about it after that.
I turned to the next page, and there was my dad’s name—Charles. Well, she called him Charlie. Ew.
“Josephine,” my mother called as she stomped up the attic stairs.
I snapped the diary closed. I probably wasn’t supposed to be reading this.
“How’s it going up there?”
“Uh, slow.”
My mother appeared in a ruffled baby-pink dress. Her hair was big and her makeup heavy. It was over the top, but it was so her.
“I actually found your diary.”
“Oh, that old thing,” she said, waving her hand. “I wondered where that had gotten to.”
I held it out to her. “I read the first page before realizing what it was.”
“You can read the whole thing if you can get through my teenage angst.” Her laugh was a tinkle. “There’s nothing in there that I have to hide.”
“Really? I can read it?” I asked in disbelief. I couldn’t imagine handing over my deepest thoughts to anyone.
“When you get older, you’ll realize you don’t care what anyone thinks about you anymore. I had to learn that at a young age. It’s what’s kept me going all these years.”
“I’ve had to learn that lesson too.”
I remembered all the things that had cut into me while working on Academy—my two failed marriages and all the drama over the years. I’d wanted so desperately to be taken seriously, to matter. But I’d had to give up so much of myself to reach for that, and it hadn’t gotten me anywhere.
“Well, I’m off for tea with Nancy. You’re welcome to join.”
“I’m actually going to see Amelia for lunch.”
“Amelia Ballentine?” she asked in surprise. I nodded. “She’s lovely. Her little boutique on Broughton is taking off.”
“I’m excited to see it. I need a dress for tonight.”
My mother waggled her fingers at me. “Off I go. Enjoy your lunch.”
I shook my head as she sauntered back down the stairs. We’d never gotten along, but she sure had style.
I wiped off the dust on my thighs as I got up out of the rocking chair. The diary felt heavy in my hand for such a little thing. Maybe it would finally give me answers to all the questions I had about my mother. She’d said that she had nothing to hide, but I still didn’t understand why she’d left my dad and married Edward. Why she’d abandoned me so easily but insisted I come here every summer. Why she claimed to love me but could throw me away so easily.
One key point in scriptwriting was understanding character motivations. As an actress, I frequently sought out the scriptwriter to discuss the character with them and get to the heart of who the person really was. Maybe this diary would give me a kernel of insight into who my mother was. Because everything I knew about her was clouded with what she’d done to me.
Or it might just show me that she had always been the same person.
I sighed and headed back downstairs. I wasn’t optimistic, but I was curious.
Ballentine was the chicest boutique in downtown Savannah. Amelia’s clothing store was doing so well that she’d bought out the store next door and expanded to fill both spaces. The clothes were fashionable without breaking the bank. Already, the store was full of young girls browsing the wares.
The owner stood by the cash register in sleek white cigarette pants and a ruffled baby-blue top. Her dark hair grazed her waist, and she sipped a sweet tea. Her eyes widened when she saw me walk inside, and she shot me a pageant-queen wave.
The cashier looked up and saw me and gaped. “Is that Josephine Reynolds?” she whisper-shouted at Amelia.
Amelia laughed as I approached and drew me into a quick hug. “Yes, this is Josie.”
“Hey, Amelia.”
“I heard that Academy was shooting in town, but wow,” the young girl said with wide eyes. “You’re Josephine Reynolds.”
I grinned at her and sank into my hip. “That’s right. Want a selfie?”
Her eyes shot to Amelia. “Would that be okay, Amelia?”
“Go for it.”
I snapped a quick shot with the girl and then followed Amelia away from the cash register. I loved my fans even if it was still surreal that I had this rabid of a following, even a decade later.
“You’re the talk of the town,” Amelia said.
“What else is new?”
She chuckled. “True, true. I’m glad you’re back, whatever the reason.”
Amelia had been two years younger than us in school. So, we hadn’t become friends until after graduation. I’d been working on Academy for a few years, and she’d recently graduated from Parsons with a fashion degree. She was working with a designer in New York City and dressed me for more than one red carpet event. I’d been surprised when she left New York to open a boutique in her hometown, but she always just shrugged and said the South owned her heart. I suspected there was more to it.
“Not to be a fangirl,” Amelia said, “but …”
“You want to meet Martin?”
Amelia blushed. “Look, I’ve been obsessed with Martin Harper since he was on the Disney Channel.”
“Yeah. Most girls our age were.”
“Is it weird? I don’t want it to be weird. I know he’s your ex.”
“It’s not weird. I don’t have any feelings about Martin anymore. Plus, I would never come between him and his mega fan, who papered her walls with his magazine pictures.”
Amelia laughed. “Oh my God, I cannot believe I told you that once.”
“It lives rent-free in my head,” I said with a laugh. “And yes, come out with us tonight. Maddox and I are taking the cast to Dub’s on River Street.”
Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. “Maddox Nelson?”
“The one and only.”
“What is he doing with the cast?”
“He’s actually running the visual effects.”
Amelia shot me a suspicious look. “On your movie?”
“Trust me, I was as surprised as you are.”
Amelia knew precisely what had gone down with me and Maddox over the years. “Well, the party sounds fun.”
“Agreed. So, lunch?”
“Yes.”
We headed toward the front of the store when the door swung inward. I stalled at the appearance of James Asheford Talmadge IV in a navy suit, crisp button-up, and dark tie. His hair was slicked back, and those blue eyes were bright and intent on Amelia’s face.
The last time I’d seen Ash, he’d been a fucking mess. After Lila, he’d dissolved into an alcoholic, fucking anything with legs and being an entitled asshole. But he didn’t look like that at all. Two years could really change a man.
“Hey,” he said with a genuine smile. “Clary’s?”
Amelia’s smile dropped as she glanced at me. “Crap. I forgot to mention that I was doing lunch with Josie. You could come with us.”
Ash slowly turned to see me standing there. I straightened my spine and smiled at him, shooting him a little wave.
“James,” I crooned.
He ground his teeth together. “Josephine.”
Ash and I had never really gotten along. Not after what he’d done to Lila at prom. I held grudges, and no matter how we’d tried to put the past behind us for her sake, it had never quite worked. And well, after what had happened at the church two years ago, I was maybe only second in line for the last person he wanted to see again.
“Y’all,” Amelia said softly. “Come on.”
Ash’s smile returned when he looked at Amelia. “I’ll pass on lunch. Another time.”
Then, he was gone as quickly as he’d come.
I swiveled in shock. “Are you dating Ash Talmadge?”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “No!”
“Defensive much?”
She huffed and jerked me toward the door. “We’re not dating. He’s just, as you can imagine, had a rough two years. I’ve been a friend. We have a standing lunch. Since my brother moved to Atlanta with Marley, he hasn’t really had anyone to help him through everything. I’ve been the stand-in.”
“Romantic,” I joked.
She smacked my arm. “It is not romantic. There is nothing remotely romantic about me and Ash.”
“Except that you’ve always liked him.”
“And he always belonged to someone else,” Amelia snapped back. Though she certainly didn’t deny the allegation. Finally, she sighed and let the tension roll off her shoulders. “If I thought that he liked me just for me and not as a substitute for what he lost, then sure … I’d date him. But I’m not going to do anything with him until that point.”
