“I’m sorry.” She gripped the railing with her free hand, loath to cut their conversation short. “Can I call you back?”
“That’s all right,” Frederick said curtly. “It wasn’t important.”
“I—” Her stomach sank when the line went dead even before she could say goodbye. She picked up Andrew’s call with an agitated swipe of her thumb. “Yes?”
“Wonderful,” he drawled. “And I haven’t even asked you my question yet.”
She inhaled sharply through her nose, not in the mood for his flirting. “Andrew—”
“Before you get exasperated with me,” he hurriedly spoke over her, “I actually have an important question for you.”
“I’m sorry.” Anne huffed out a calming breath. “I’m out with my sister—”
“I promise it’ll be quick.” And yet, he didn’t spit out the question right away. Anne tapped her toes with growing impatience. “Window or aisle?”
“Excuse me?” She blinked, her toes pausing mid-tap.
“My assistant is making flight arrangements, and she wanted to know whether you preferred a window seat or an aisle seat,” he explained.
“An aisle seat.” She didn’t like disturbing other passengers to get in and out of her seat to use the restroom. She tried to drink less water on the plane, but… She shook her head, corralling her errant thoughts. “But I’m perfectly capable of arranging my own—”
“It’ll only be the four of us,” he interrupted. He seemed to do that a lot. “You, Mason Peet, your Mr. Darcy, along with our esteemed consultant and myself. I thought it would be a shame to waste eleven hours on the plane with such a tight filming schedule. Flying together will give us four a much-needed chance to build rapport. I believe that a genuine connection between the film’s core members is the key to its success.”
“Of course.” She had heard about Andrew’s directing style. He insisted on the film’s leads spending as much time with one another as possible.
“Fantastic. I won’t keep you, then,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Please apologize to your sister for me. I feel terrible for having deprived her of your delightful company, even for a minute. Have a good evening, Anne.”
“You, too, Andrew.” She smiled at his shameless flirting. He was such a ham. As annoyed as she was, it felt nice to be openly and unabashedly wanted.
Anne wanted to call Frederick back as soon as Andrew hung up, but he’d insisted it wasn’t necessary. Was he upset that Andrew had called her? Was he jealous? Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. He’d probably called her at a free moment and didn’t want to be disturbed later. She rubbed her forehead, soothing away the beginnings of a headache.I’ll figure it out later.She’d left Tessa alone for too long.
Maybe the super greens would lend Anne the guts to call Frederick despite his discouragement. They were supposed to be friends, after all, and friends could call each other without being weird about it. Too bad she was in love with him and would totally be weird about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I’m chickenshit.
Frederick raked his fingers through his hair as he stared at his phone, sitting alone in the small bedroom attached to his office. But what could he have done? Demanded that she ignore the phone call from her director? Frederick had no idea what he was doing, but he was certain of one thing. He would not get in the way of her happiness.
If working with that smarmy asshole made her happy, then she should do that. If taking care of her ungrateful family made her happy, then she should do that, too. If he couldn’t be a positive influence in her life, he shouldn’t be in it at all—even as a friend—no matter whathewanted.
But he couldn’t bear the thought of not having her in his life. He would be her Giving Tree if she wanted. If he had to become a sad, lonely stump to have her in his life, he would do it. He would be anything for Anne. But damn it all to fucking hell, he wanted to beeverythingfor her.
“Hey.” Pete poked his head in the door and flipped on the lights. “Why do you look like you want to punch your phone?”
“Go away,” Frederick growled weakly like a hibernating bear, shielding his eyes from the glare of the lights. He should’ve known better than to brood at the station, even though he was in his own damn bedroom, in his own damn office.
Pete faltered at the door as though he couldn’t decide whether to take Frederick seriously or not.
“Hey, Captain.” Joe walked in without hesitation and sat down on the bed beside him. Pete shrugged and went in to sit down on Frederick’s other side. “I hear you’ve been flower-bombing Bethany.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Frederick said, sandwiched between his two annoying friends. “The girl got hurt because I didn’t stop her from running off into the dark.”
“Wow. Where do I even start with that statement?” Joe crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Frederick. “First of all, Bethany is a grown-ass woman, not agirl. Second, it wasn’t your job to stop her from running anywhere. She can damn well run whenever, wherever she feels like, because—back to point one—she is a grown-ass woman. Third, are you saying those are just guilt flowers?”
“What the hell areguiltflowers?” Frederick stared at Joe like he’d lost his mind. He had to be making this shit up. “They’re get-well flowers. Have you seen those? Like at hospital gift shops? People send them all the time. Don’t they? God, do I have to send a balloon that saysGet Wellto make my intent clear?”
“So they’re not have-my-baby flowers?” Joe tapped a finger on his chin.
