Mr. April: A Celebrity Romance (Calendar Boys Book 4) Page 6
He grimaces. “You sure you didn’t get a divorce while I was getting a shave?”
I shake my head and smile at him sadly. “Am I a bad person for wishing that I had?”
He looks at me like I’m not a bad person at all. He looks at me like I’m the most amazing person he’s ever met.
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t know anymore... I think so… I’m just not sure I’m in love with him.”
His thumb is still brushing my hand as I find the courage to speak again.
“I’ve never thought much about having a life that doesn’t involve him.”
“But?” he prompts hopefully.
“But it’s all I’ve thought about this afternoon,” I confess. “Does that make me a fool? For feeling this way about a man so far out of my league it’s laughable?”
“No one is laughing, Blaire. And I’m pretty sure I’m the fool for feeling like this about a woman that’s married.”
“You could have any woman in the world.” I laugh humourlessly.
“That’s not true,” he replies sadly. “I can’t have you.”
I feel like crying. This is one of those moments that girls find themselves dreaming about. The handsome, famous, sexy stranger comes along and looks at them the way the guy does in the movies.
That is happening to me right now, but it’s not like the dream. This hurts, because it can’t be real. It can never really happen.
“Come with me.” He says the words in a rush, like the idea has just occurred to him. “I’ll take you with me.”
I huff out a laugh of hopeless frustration. “You know I can’t just get on a plane with you.”
He takes my hand in his now and I wish that he could do that forever. “I would take care of you, Blaire. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“I know you would,” I whisper. “But you barely know me. I barely know you. All we have is this thing between us.”
“It’s chemistry. Pure and unfiltered.” He sighs. “You know, it’s the one thing I’ve always believed about film, acting… life – all of it… You can’t fake chemistry and can’t stop it either. If it’s there, it’s there, and it’s real.”
“It’s only been a few hours…”
He shrugs. “You try telling me you don’t feel it.”
That would be an outright lie. I’ve been crushing on him for a long time, but this isn’t just a crush anymore, this is inconceivably different.
These are feelings, and they’re growing at a rate more rapid than I’d ever believe was possible.
I haven’t even had a sip of my drink, but I’m drunk on him, and I’m only getting in deeper by the minute.
“I feel it. I don’t know what it is, but I feel it,” I confess.
His other hand covers our intertwined hands. “I’ve never felt like this.”
“It’s the situation,” I whisper. “It’s pressurised.”
“It’s you. Nothing else, Blaire.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I whisper with an awkward giggle, as I try to lighten the mood.
His blue eyes burn into mine, scorching my soul and altering my heart.
He sighs. “I should find a hotel for the night.”
A huge part of me wishes that I’d be going into that hotel room with him, but I won’t. I can’t, and that’s all there is to it.
“I can drop you somewhere?”
He nods at me and pulls his hands away from mine.
I bite down on my lip to stop it from trembling.
He picks up his glass and chugs back the remainder of his beer. He gestures to my still-full glass and I shake my head.
I don’t want it.
Putting anything into my stomach right now would only encourage it to come back up.
This feels as though it’s the end… like goodbye, and it makes me feel sick.
I don’t want to say goodbye to him – even though there’s nothing more I can say or do.
He stands and offers me his hand to help me up. I take it, for what is bound to be the very last time.
CHAPTER NINE
Beckett
She indicates left off the road and pulls into the front of a decent looking hotel.
“I’ve heard good things about this place,” she tells me as she leans to look out her window, up at the tall building. “They should have plenty of rooms at this time of year.”
She turns off the engine and silence envelopes us. She’s solemn, like she can sense the impending doom the same way I can. That’s exactly how this feels – like a disaster of epic proportions.
I nod at her.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to end this – whatever this is.
“Beckett,” she whispers, her tone pleading – for what… I don’t know.
I don’t know how my face appears right now, but if it looks anything like the way I feel then it’s bound to be hard to see.
I undo my seatbelt and turn to face her. She does the same.
She’s a total bundle of nervous energy, and that’s when it hits me that this is it. This is the last moment I get with her. This is the only opportunity I’m going to have to plead my case.
“Back home, I get whatever I want, whenever I want it.”
“But you’re not back home anymore.”
I wish I was.
I’m glad I’m not.
I’m so torn.
I draw in a deep breath. “As much as I hate that the rules are different here, I’m so fucking relieved, because you’re nothing like anyone back home – and that’s the very best thing about you… Well, that and your sexy fucking legs.”
“Beckett,” she says again, only this time it sounds more like she’s begging for something.
I lean across the centre console and cup her face in my hand.
Her eyelids flutter closed as she leans in to the contact.
“Come inside with me,” I beg.
“I can’t,” she says as she leans in closer to me – almost as though it’s an involuntary reaction.
“I’m on your list, I’m pre-approved.”
“I wish it were that simple.”
“I wish you were mine.”
Her lids fly open and her brown eyes look right at me – into me. They’re swimming with want and confusion and pain.
I can’t take it any longer. I close the distance between us.
“Blaire,” I whisper before my lips crush against hers.
I drag her bottom lip between my teeth – the same way she does her own.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all fucking day,” I murmur against her.
I feel her muscles tense for a fraction of a second before she relaxes and her mouth moves in unison with mine.
I slip my tongue into her mouth and she moans.
Her hands are in my hair, tugging on the newly cut strands, and the scruff on my face is rubbing coarsely against her skin.
I want to hear that soft scraping noise as I kiss every single inch of her skin.
Every part of me wants her right now. I don’t care that we’re in a car in a public place, I don’t care that someone might recognise me, hell, I don’t even care that she’s married.
This is the hottest kiss of my life, and all I can think about is getting to do it again.
She breaks away before I’m even close to being satisfied.
“Holy shit.” She pants as she tries to regain her lost breath.
I’ve still got her face cupped in my palms, and her fingers are locked in my hair like a vice.
I chuckle. “Agreed.”
“I have to go, Beck,” she whispers, and this time I know it is goodbye.
“I want to see you again,” I say in a rush. There’s so many things I want more than that, but if I don’t at least get to lay eyes on her again, then not one of those things is ever going to happen.
“I can’t see you again,” she says, and the hurt in her voice breaks my heart. “I won’t be
able to let you leave.”
“Make me stay. Come with me,” I beg. I know they’re contradicting statements, but I’d say anything right now to get more time – to get her.
“You know I can’t.” Her voice cracks and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t see her cry.
“Just once more and then you’ll never see me again.”
She releases her hold on my hair and runs her hands down the side of my face, her fingers tracing over my features. “I’ll see you everywhere.”
She places a sweet, soft kiss to my lips.
This is goodbye. She might see me again, but I won’t see her again. I can feel it.
I open my eyes and look at her, really look at her. I try to memorise every detail before it’s too late.
I brush my lips against hers and she sighs.
“Harvey will be wondering where I am.”
I nod my head as the emotion of this loss threatens to overwhelm me.
I kiss the tip of her nose, just once before turning, opening the door and climbing out.
I grab my bag from the back seat and take one final look at her.
She’s got tears pooling in her eyes and I can see she’s fighting hard to keep it together.
“Goodbye, Blaire,” I say.
“I’ll miss you, Beckett Thorn,” she replies as I close the door.
And then she’s gone.
***
It’s a really nice room, but I feel vacant – empty – like the cover of a book with no pages inside it.
I pull out the phone that I haven’t switched on for days and wait for it to power up.
I need to check my emails and see if John has had a heart attack in my absence. It’s not really a question of if, it’s more like when.
It starts up and I login with the free WiFi code the woman at the front desk gave me.
It comes up with the loading icon that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere fast.
“Piece of shit,” I mumble as I toss it on the bed.
I go to the bathroom and take a piss. I’m washing my hands when the email alert noise starts going off, and it doesn’t stop. It’s a continuous stream of incoming emails.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I jog over to the bed and drop my body onto the mattress as I grab the phone.
Only my team has this email address which means all of these emails are from John, Bridget or Warren. Which means it’s not good.
I open my inbox and see twenty from this afternoon alone.
To: Beckett Thorn (thornbeck@gmail.com)
From: John Collins (johncollins@wemanageyou.com)
3.20pm
Beck,
We’ve got a situation. I need you to call in as soon as you get this.
John
To: Beckett Thorn (thornbeck@gmail.com)
From: John Collins (johncollins@wemanageyou.com)
3.30pm
Goddammit, Beckett. Check your emails.
To: Beckett Thorn (thornbeck@gmail.com)
From: John Collins (johncollins@wemanageyou.com)
3.40 pm
You’ve been spotted. Photos of you in that hick town you’ve run away to are hitting the news stands as we speak.
“Shit,” I mutter as I continue to scroll through. I know I should just pick up the phone and call, but I can’t stop reading.
To: Beckett Thorn (thornbeck@gmail.com)
From: John Collins (johncollins@wemanageyou.com)
3.50 pm
For the love of God, answer me.
To: Beckett Thorn (thornbeck@gmail.com)
From: Bridget French (bridgetF@publicityplus.com)
3.55 pm
Hey Beckett,
I’ve been instructed to make contact. John thinks you’re ignoring him.
We have a situation on our hands, and I’ll be real with you, there’s not a lot we can do from here to help kill this. The media are running it.
You’re about to have a spotlight on you and it’s going to be bright.
We need to get you out of there – right now.
Call me when you can.
B
There’s at least a dozen more after that, but most of them appear to be from John, and nearly all of them have cursing in the subject line, so I ignore them.
I swipe open the FaceTime app and hit dial on John’s number.
The line rings out and then crackles as an image of John’s face appears on the screen.
“Bridget!” he yells. “Bridget, what the hell is this thing?”
I see Bridget come into the frame of the screen next to him.
“For goodness sake, John, it’s Beckett.” She points at the screen and the image of my face that they can see. “It’s his whole face for crying out loud.”
“Hey,” I say.
“John lifts his glasses off his head and squints at the screen. “You don’t look half bad. I guess this trip to the hairdressers wasn’t a total waste of time then.”
“How’d you know I got a haircut?”
“It’s all over the news, Beck. Some young guy who works there recognised you and sent in a bunch of pictures to the media.”
I let my head fall. Lil may not have known who I was, but it seems that someone else did, and I was there with Blaire – this isn’t just about me.
“Was it just me in the photos?” I ask.
“Of course it was just you, what is that meant to mean?”
“I was with someone.”
“You met someone?” Bridget’s voice is full of hope; she’s been putting the heat on me for a long time to settle down.
“It’s not like that,” I tell her.
“Was it a woman?”
“Enough playing matchmaker, we have to get this under control,” John snaps at the pair of us. “We need to get you home, Beck.”
“You’re right, and once you assure me that no pictures of me with a blonde woman will make it anywhere near the internet, then we’ll sort it out.”
I don’t miss the hopeful look on Bridget’s face.
“You know I can’t control that,” John tells me.
“Figure it out,” I demand. “It’s not a request.”
John looks up at Bridget who is still hovering over his shoulder. “I’ll do my best,” she promises me.
“Thank you.” I breathe a sigh of relief. If anyone can do this for me, it’s Bridget.
I know no one in my world is going to give a shit about some random woman, but people in her world will, and I don’t want running into me to ruin the life she’s built here – as much as I wish she’d give it all up to come with me.
“I’ve booked you a midnight flight out of there. As far as I can tell, they don’t know where you’re staying, but it won’t be long. You know how these things go,” John tells me, his lips drawing into a thin line.
“And what if I’m not ready to leave?”
I know I’m wasting my time, she’s not coming back, but I can’t help but hope.
If I leave tonight, then there’s definitely no chance that I’ll ever see her again. I didn’t even ask her last name.
“Not an option,” John barks. “Not unless you want a media shit storm landing in your lap.”
“You have to leave, Beck,” Bridget tells me, her voice soft and compassionate. “We need you back here and you can’t stay there any longer. You know that.”
I groan. “How long until I’m due in talks for the next film?”
“If you’d read your god damn emails—”
“One week,” Bridget cuts off John’s rant. “We need you to leave tonight, Beck, okay? There’s no other way.”
I nod with a resigned sigh. “Okay.”
“Call the papers… It’s breaking news, the man can listen after all.” John throws his hands up in an overly extravagant gesture.
I resist the urge to flip him the middle finger.
“Send me the info and I’ll get on the damn flight.”
CHAPTER TEN
Blaire
; I drive into the garage and find the other half of it empty.
Harvey’s car isn’t here – which means that either he had too many beers at after-work drinks and got dropped home, or he’s not here at all.
I’m inclined to think it’s the latter.
He seems to be here less and less lately.
I turn off the engine and breathe in deeply. I can still smell Beckett in here, and I don’t want to get out and lose that even though I know it’s inevitable.
I think about the day I’ve had and the fact that I’m back here now – at home – and right back to reality instead of rolling around in the sheets with the man of my dreams.
We didn’t do anything outrageous or even particularly exciting today, but it was the best day I’ve had in a long time… all because of the person I spent it with.
He’s more than I could have possibly imagined him to be.
We fantasise about celebrities in our heads – build them up to be something they’re not… But Beckett exceeded anything I ever could have created in my mind.
He deserves all the good things he’s got in his life – he’s one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.
And now he’s gone and it’s all over.
I take one last inhale of his addictive scent and hop out of the car.
Walking through my empty house feels depressing.
There’s no one here. Not even a pet. Harvey wouldn’t even let me get a cat.
“Harvey?” I call out, even though I know he’s not here.
I drop my bag down on the end of my bed and hold my head in my hands.
I kissed a man that wasn’t my husband today, and I can’t even find it within me to feel guilty.
I just feel broken.
I strip off my clothing and turn the shower on hot.
I step under the water and the moment the stream hits my skin, I begin to cry.