Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Christ, you’ve really got it bad for this girl.”
“She’s amazing, Nina, and I won’t disrespect her by making it out to either be nothing at all or something dirty. So, for now, we don’t say anything at all.”
“The speculation, Christian—”
“Guess how many fucks I give about speculation?”
She sighs and hangs up without saying goodbye, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. Just as I’m about to go in search of Jenna to try and smooth things over, Grant calls through.
“Hey.”
“From the tone of your voice,” he begins, “I assume you’ve already seen the media shitstorm.”
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I feel a headache coming on. Jenna walks into the room and passes me two Advil with a bottle of water, offers me a small smile, and walks back out again.
God, I love her.
“I’ve seen it,” I confirm.
Grant’s been with me since day one, through the lean years and the times we could hardly keep up with. He is one of a handful of people that I trust implicitly.
“I need to know what you want me to tell the studio,” he says with a sigh. “And before you do, I have something to say.”
“I will not apologize.”
“I don’t want a fucking apology,” he says, and I can just picture the frown on his wrinkled face, those bushy eyebrows pulled together. “I say it’s about time you started living your life for you. It’s not in your contract that you have to date your costar. They can’t require it anymore.”
“It’s fucking crazy that they ever did.”
“They did a lot of crazy things,” he says. “You don’t know the half of it. My point is, I’ll tell them whatever you want me to. I’m just happy to see you living your life, Christian. You’ve spent the better part of twenty-five years as a damn robot, and it’s time to stop that.”
“Are you telling me to stop working?”
“Fuck, no. I need to send one more kid to college.”
I grin, knowing that he’s not kidding in the least.
“I told Nina not to say anything at all, to not release an official statement. I want you to tell the studio that I’ll do the press junket with Serena, and I’ll play nice, but I don’t like her, and I won’t pretend to be dating her. The film is finished, and that’s all that matters.”
“I like it,” he says. “They won’t, but I do.”
“Honestly, I don’t care whether they like it or not. Not anymore. It’s too much, Grant.”
“I completely agree, and we’ll be completely transparent moving forward regarding this. Date whomever you want, kiddo. Just don’t get her pregnant and leave her and let her go on a shitty reality show.”
I laugh in spite of myself and cover my mouth with my hand. “Jesus, that’s quite the visual.”
“Hey, that’s sound advice. Okay, I’ll make some calls. Enjoy your girl. Let me know when you’re back in town.”
“Thanks, Grant.”
I hang up, leave my phone in the kitchen and on silent because I don’t want to deal with this anymore today, and go in search of my girl.
I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb of her bedroom and cross my arms over my chest, watching her.
She’s sitting in the middle of her bed, her legs folded up under her, intently watching her phone. She taps the screen, and I can hear the video from the stroll playing. When it’s over, she plays it again.
After the third time, I push away from the doorway and walk toward her.
“Jenna.”
She looks up at me with shining blue eyes, tears threatening, and my heart sinks.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
“I kind of love this video.”
I stop short, completely stunned by this admission.
“You do?”
She nods and brushes a tear off of her cheek. “I know that it’s causing problems for you and I’m sorry for that. But, Christian, this was one of the most romantic moments in my life, and someone caught it on film.”
She offers me a small smile, then plays it again. I sit next to her, watching over her shoulder as I lean in and kiss her on the screen.
You can’t hear what I say to her, thank God, because I want that to always stay between us. But I have to admit, it’s good quality, and it’s sweet.
“You’re not angry?” I ask her.
“Isn’t it ironic that we literally just finished having a conversation about this very thing happening?” she asks rather than answering my question. “I’m not angry. I’m saving this to my phone so I can watch it whenever I want to.”
It occurs to me that she and I have never taken a photo together. After that first encounter in the coffee shop, when she took a photo of her coffee, and I shied away, she’s never tried to take another one of anything.
That’s about to change.