Pattie plunked her mug down, coffee sloshing over the top. “Shelley, what are you—”
“It’s okay.” Chris took a breath and met Shelley’s challenging glare. “And what did you learn in your studies?”
She looked him dead in the eyes without blinking. It was a bit unnerving. “You’re CJ Cunningham.”
“I am.”
Pattie stomped around the kitchen, cleaning up her spill and other dishes, expressing her opinion with loud thumps.
“I must say, your disguise is really working,” Shelley said
He shrugged a resigned shoulder. “That’s the point.”
He’d always been known for his clean-cut look with a bit of an old-school flair. He usually wore his curly hair styled in a pompadour and had a closet full of skinny ties. With so much competition in the movie industry, especially from those named Chris, he and Wes decided he needed to change his name and focus on more emotional roles. On more than one occasion, his acting had been labeled as “haunting,” although only a select few knew the identity of the ghosts that provided him with an endless well of inspiration.
“So, CJ—can I call you CJ?” She quirked an eyebrow.
This time, Pattie did speak up. “Enough, Shelley. Leave Chris alone. He’s not here for your personal enjoyment.”
“Listen, Shell—can I call you Shell?” Chris said, and she laughed good-naturedly. “I’ll answer any questions you have about my movies or LA or whatever-the-hell, but you can’t tell anybody, including Bronte. I’m telling her this weekend.”
“Of course,” she said. “So, the other Chrises…what are they like?”
* * *
After she finishedup her conferences, Bronte had gotten caught up talking to the principal and by the time she arrived home, it was half past eight. Tossing her things down, she changed into pajamas before rustling up a bowl of cereal. She’d had her phone on silent and missed Chris’s call from about an hour ago.
In the short time they’d spent together, their instant connection had grown to something much more. He was the first person she wanted to call when her principal gave her outstanding remarks for her observation and the last person she wanted to talk to before bed. She thought about him almost constantly. Whenever she had a free moment, he was there in the forefront of her mind, making a home so deep in her senses she’d sworn she saw him pictured in an ad for watches in a magazine earlier in the day.
It was his birthday today, and she had big plans for him this weekend that included a home-cooked meal and hours together in bed. But until then, she’d sent him some digital gifts to tide him over. The mere thought of his reaction to them had her smiling, although once she started listening to his message, she lost her lightheartedness.
“Hey, baby. I know you’re at school, but I had to call and hear your voice mail message. I needed to hear your voice. I know that sounds silly, but it’s true.” He took an audible breath. “I’m…struggling a bit today, and you always make me feel better.”
Bronte’s heart skipped at the twinge in his voice.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Chris said before the click of the end of the message.
Her texts to him that morning started with a picture of her bare hip and leg in bed as soon as she woke up. Then a few hours later, she sent a picture of her stomach. And a few hours after that, the edge of her lace panties. All of his returned messages had been a mixture of crude words and emojis, so she’d had no idea he was struggling.
When she called him back, he picked up on the first ring.
“Bronte.”
“Hi, I just got home. I didn’t know you’d called, or else I would’ve—”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“What’s wrong?”
“I had a tough day today, thinking about things, and I had a tiny meltdown.”
Knowing his past, she guessed it was probably a difficult day without his family, but to hear him so troubled, she felt guilty.
“Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you today. I wish I would’ve—”
“No, I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this because you need to know how important you are to me. You keep me even, you know?”
“I know.” Bronte nodded to herself. Curling her knees into her chest, she wrapped her arms around them as she found her words. “I was never really confident growing up. I was skinny and gawky and tripping over myself all the time. I was nerdy and had a few particularly hard years in middle school.” She cringed, thinking back to those awkward years of acne and bad haircuts. “I grew out of it, for the most part,” she added with a laugh. “But I still never fully felt like myself. When I got to college, it was a whole new world. It felt like a chance to be a whole new me. And then I met Hunter.”