Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Ta-ta for now!
My face is red and hot. Shame creeps up my neck. Embarrassment crawls over my skin. I want to point out every detail that’s wrong with this piece.
Starting with the suggestion I got paid.
And . . .
Well . . .
That’s the only part Rikki Finch got wrong.
Malcolm must have taken a wild guess and planted the bug in her ear. The irony that the bloviator should be right about the one thing that can ruin my life. He probably told her I would stage a breakup again, and then she ran with that tip and figured out the rest. I can’t even blame the Man’s Man for tipping her off and sharing his theory.
This is all my fault. I agreed to this farce, knowing I’d be hoodwinking my readers. I deserve whatever consequences come my way.
Like I’m walking to my execution, I let Mason into my apartment a few minutes later. He’ll be the witness to the death of my career.
He’s all business. “Holly’s at the airport to pick up Jude and bring him here. Slade’s on his way. It’s crisis time, and your place is now the war room.”
And here I’d been hoping it’d be the reunion sex palace.
I sit on the couch with my agent. He whips off his glasses, a sign he’s about to tell it like it is. But Mason looks tired. Like this has been a long week. Hell, it’s been a long year for him dealing with me. I haven’t been the easiest client. He’s managed the hell out of my writer’s block. He’s also looked out for me for my entire career, and writing is everything to me.
Sure, he gets fifteen percent for his work, but he’s also a friend, and I owe him the truth. Before he can start in on his plans, I stop him and say, “Listen, I want you to know something.”
As I tell him the truth about Jude and me, I care less and less about what happens to me and more and more about the people in my life.
Especially the guy on his way to my home.
When Jude arrives, I’m a dog rushing the door. I swing it open, and it takes all my self-control not to jump up and down.
Then bring him in for a hug.
Ask how he’s doing. If the piece freaked him out. What he needs from me. How the hell I can help.
But we’re not alone, and his eyes are tired. For a few seconds, all my fears swim up. Will Rikki exposing us send him running from me? Will he want to cool things off till the press dies down?
Then I lecture myself. Of course, his eyes are tired. He’s been up for hours.
And fuck my fears. We didn’t go through the last few weeks of opening up, letting each other in, and learning to trust just to toss it all away when shit gets hard.
Life is hard, and we’re here for each other.
“Hi,” I say softly to the guy I adore.
“Hey, you.” His voice is tender too, a spark returning to his eyes.
Holly clears her throat. “Let’s do this, gentlemen. I have dinner reservations.” She’s kind but firm as she shoos Jude inside. Slade follows. “No time to linger in the hall either.”
Slade shepherds us to my couch like we’re chastened children. That’s what we’ve always been to him. “How the hell did The Hollywood Scoop know we were gonna have you post a breakup letter?”
Is that a real question? “She made a lucky guess,” I say.
Then I can’t help myself—I steal a glance at Jude.
It’s been days since I saw him. God, he looks good, even after traveling all day. His hair is messy, but his blue eyes are bright now. I want to run a hand through his hair. He raises an eyebrow as if he catches me looking at him. And like he likes it. My heart pounds in my ears.
“And breakup letters are customary,” Jude adds, in a calm voice to soothe the PR guy.
Slade is wound all the way up, though. “I know that, but how did Rikki know that?”
Mason scoffs. “She knows everything, Slade.”
The publicist grips his bald head, clearly pissed that his plan went belly up.
I’m not pissed, though. I’m only worried about Jude and whether this news is affecting him. When he sneaks a hand toward me on the couch cushion, I feel warm everywhere. We’re in this together.
“We’re going to have to double down,” Slade begins, counting off on his fingers.
“More dates, you mean?” Holly asks wearily.
“Dates, appearances, press,” Slade says, rambling on.
Mason sighs, then shakes his head. “I’m not sure we should. Sometimes you have to cut your losses.”
Holly nods thoughtfully. “Exactly. We might have done enough at this point. Best to tackle this another way.”
Jude doesn’t even look at her as he inches closer to me. He’s not bothered by any of this career triage. All he cares about is touching me.