In the scene building to a crescendo in front of Hannah, Christian and Maxine were dancing palm to palm, happiness and hope slowly transforming their features. Their movements grew more joyful. Less restrained. It would be in slow motion, Hannah knew, and it would be a perfect way to leave the audience.
After two more takes, Sergei yelled, “Cut!” He hopped out of his director’s chair and high-fived the closest boom mic guy. “That’s a wrap.”
Everyone cheered.
Christian dropped character faster than a speeding bullet. “Who has my coffee? Hannah?”
She waved at him. Waited until he looked relieved, then gave him the finger.
His laughter filled the bar.
Still, she was in the process of taking pity on the actor and delivering his cold brew once more for old time’s sake when Sergei stepped into her path. “Hannah. Hey.” Did he seem almost . . . nervous? “I just wanted to say again how much grain the new score is adding to the film. It wouldn’t have been the same without the songs. Or this place.” He laughed. “You almost had as much to do with the movie as I did—and I’m the one who wrote and directed it.”
A nostalgic fondness for the director made her smile. “And you did a great job, Sergei. It’s going to be your best work yet.”
“Yes, thank you.” He hesitated. “You’ve already given notice, and I respect that. It’s obvious you’re ready for bigger and better things, but I’ll regret not asking one more time if you’ll accept a higher position. Since Brinley appears to be keeping her word about quitting, someone has to step in as music coordinator.”
A month ago, she would have had to pinch herself, thinking she’d been hit by a bus and was approaching the pearly gates. A huge part of her was thrilled beyond belief that she’d proven herself enough to warrant this kind of offer. She just couldn’t take it. Not only because she wanted to make things work with Fox, but because she’d loved working for herself. Discovering a band, being part of the process, coming up with a vision, and seeing it through. She planned to continue in her newfound leading-lady role.
“Thank you, but this is going to be my last project,” she said. “I don’t think I would have discovered what I really wanted to do without Storm Born. The experience has been invaluable, but I’m moving on.”
“And moving out of LA, too, I’m guessing.” His chagrin turned down the corners of his mouth. “For the fisherman.”
“Yes.” Once again, she had to suppress the scary doubt that marched into her stomach like stormtroopers. “Yes, for Fox.”
Sergei made an unhappy sound. “You’ll let me know if anything changes. Career-wise or personally?”
She wouldn’t.
Even if the worst happened and things didn’t work out with Fox, she knew what it felt like to love someone now. In that wild, brutal way that couldn’t be fenced in or reasoned with. The crush she’d had on the director seemed like a sad, wet noodle in comparison. “Of course,” she said, squeezing his arm.
“Okay, beauties. Who is ready to party?”
Hannah snorted at the sound of Piper’s voice and the resulting gasps as everyone recognized her. Hannah turned around just in time to receive a smacking kiss on her cheek—which definitely left a Piper-sized lipstick mark—and watched everyone marvel as the former party princess of Los Angeles neatly stowed her purse behind the bar and smiled at the closest crew member. “Get you a drink?”
Christian came up beside Hannah, jaw in the vicinity of his knees. “Is that . . . Piper Bellinger?”
“The very one,” Hannah answered, love rushing through her veins. “She moved here last summer after she fell in love with a sea captain. Isn’t that romantic?”
“I guess. How do you know her?”
“She’s my sister. We own this place.” She tipped her head in the direction of the bar. “How about something a little stiffer than coffee?”
His mouth opened and closed until eventually he sputtered, “Yeah, I think I need it.”
Hannah and Christian had just managed to wade through the buzzing crew to the bar when Hannah stopped dead in her tracks. Outlined in the door of Cross and Daughters was Brendan. But . . . it was only late afternoon. The Della Ray wasn’t scheduled to be back in the harbor until tonight. Did they get back early? Nerves and anticipation warred in her stomach at the possibility of seeing Fox earlier than expected. But something in Brendan’s expression caused the nerves to win.
“Hey,” she murmured when her future brother-in-law reached her. “Aren’t you supposed to be out on the boat right now? Are you back early?”
Brendan doffed his beanie and turned it over in his hands. “Not back early. I put Fox in charge of this run.”
Hannah started, replaying that explanation six times in her head, some unwanted trepidation turning over in her gut. “You did? Was that a last-minute decision?”
“It was. Didn’t want to give him a chance to back out.” Brendan hesitated, trading a glance with Piper. “It seemed like a good idea. And it might work out exactly like I hoped it would. The man has great instincts, knowledge, and respect for the ocean—he just needs to believe in himself.” He cleared his throat. “It didn’t occur to me until after the boat left that it might have been bad timing. With everything . . . going on between you two. He was game for the challenge, but it’s a lot at once.”
“Wait . . .” Hannah swallowed a robin’s-egg-sized lump, pleasure and shock turning her very still. “He told you about us?”
“Some.”
Hannah made an exasperated sound. “What does that mean?”
“He told Brendan he hasn’t been to Seattle since last summer,” Piper supplied, leaning forward on the bar to join the conversation. “He’s been waiting for you, Hanns. Like a ‘lovesick asshole’—and that’s a direct quote.”
She barely had time to process the immense weight of that revelation when she noticed Brendan still looked nervous. And she knew there was more.
“I put the rest together without him telling me. I figured with him feeling like that, and you two in close quarters, something was . . . probably happening. Even though I went and spoke to him before you arrived. Asked him to keep things platonic—”
“You did what?”
“And,” Brendan continued, “I may have reminded him to keep things friendly a couple of times since.” He cleared his throat. “A couple . . . dozen.”
“I take partial blame,” Piper called, wincing. “We were trying to look out for you. But I think maybe . . . No, I know we underestimated him in the process. We’ve been doing it for a long time.”
“Yeah. He had every right to throw that back in my face before he left.” Brendan replaced the beanie on his head and accepted the pint Piper placed on the bar in front of him, drinking from it deeply as if the whole conversation had made him thirsty. When he set it down again, he took his time looking at Hannah. “I kept crowing about how much I trust him, wanting him to take my spot behind the wheel, but I didn’t put my money where my mouth is. I regret that.”
Heat tingled in the tip of Hannah’s nose. Fox had told her his worst fear was someone questioning his intentions toward her, but it had already happened. His own best friend had done it. Had he been hurting over it all this time?