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I explained everything to Lynn as briefly as I could.
"And he tried to talk to you today when you were there?"
"Yeah, but it's too late, right?"
"Why?" Lynn asked. "Why is it too late?"
I sighed in exasperation. "Because he's already decided what kind of person I am. And if he thinks I'd do that to him—spend two weeks pretending to be in love with him just so I could get him to do the show—then he doesn't know me at all."
Lynn didn't say anything for a long minute. Then she said, "Don't get mad at me, okay?"
"For what?" I didn't think I had the capacity to generate yet another emotion today. I was spent.
"For telling you you're being an idiot."
I pressed my lips together, waiting to feel angry. I’d been right though, I didn't have the energy for anger—I only felt empty. "What?" I whispered.
"Do you love him?"
"I thought maybe I did."
"And your plan now is what? Come home, get a new job, forget all about him?"
It sounded awful. And impossible. "Yeah."
"April, it sounds like he wanted to talk about it. Don't you owe him that much?"
"He thinks I'm a manipulative bitch," I pointed out. "If he thinks I would do all that—go to that length just to set him up, there's no point."
"It was a misunderstanding. At least talk to him. Don't just leave. You'll be miserable forever if you don't at least talk it out."
I sank into the pillows again—Annabelle had added about thirteen extra while I had been out filming today, along with the alcohol and fudge, and a little card telling me she hoped everything was okay. "Maybe."
"Call him."
"I don't know if I can."
"Do it for me," Lynn said.
"For you?"
"If you come home, and you didn't even talk to him to find out if there might be a way to get past all this, you'll be a miserable pain in the ass for months. And I'll have to deal with you. So do it for me. Just talk to him. Just see if maybe there's really something there."
My heart twisted, writhing in pain or maybe pulsing in hope. Either way, I knew it would be next to impossible to talk to Callan, knowing he thought the worst of me already. I also knew I couldn't be anywhere near those deep dark eyes again without melting. It had been near impossible to keep my resolve while we’d filmed all day. Holding myself steady was part of why I was so exhausted now. I didn't answer, but I let out a long tired sigh.
"When's your flight home?"
"Tomorrow," I told her. "I got the red-eye."
"I hope you're not on it."
"That's not very nice," I said.
"I hope you find a reason to stay in Pine Tree."
"Christmas Tree. I mean, Singletree."
"Right," Lynn said.
