“It means the world that you think I’m perfect.”
“The whole world thinks you’re perfect.”
Her eyes soften. “But I only care about your opinion.”
I reach up and stroke her hair, then place a soft kiss on her lips. Just then, her phone beeps.
“Sorry.” She gives me an apologetic smile and reaches for the phone. “I set an alert for when the Steven Dash review goes online.”
Another critic. It’s amusing to see how excited she is. “You already know what it’s going to say.”
“Even more reason to read it. I always read the positive reviews. It’s the negative ones I’ve learned to avoid.”
She scrolls through her phone, then stops. She frowns and taps on something. A page opens, casting electronic light on her face. She turns worried eyes in my direction.
I know it’s impossible that the noted theatre critic would have anything negative to say about her performance. How can he? It’s the performance of a decade. “What is it? What did he say?”
She hands me the phone and I see a headline screaming in lurid red lettering.
Lkay gets her groove back! Liz McKay and director Aidan Court enjoy opening night tryst.
There’s a picture of us on her balcony, kissing. My hand is inside Liz’s robe and I’m naked. There are a few other pictures of us having breakfast together and even entering the building together. Obviously, a lucky photographer has been watching her apartment from one of the other buildings on the street.
“Assholes,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m sorry,” Liz says.
I look from the phone to her apprehensive expression. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, but…it’s my reality, and now I’ve dragged you into it.”
The chaos of her celebrity life is the least of the things I’d brave to be with her.
Then tell her.
I can’t
Because it won’t matter. She’ll leave and rip my heart out when she does.
“I don’t mind. I don’t have any qualms about being seen with you, Liz. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re one of the most desirable women in the country. In the world, even.”
She inhales sharply and reaches for the phone. “You didn’t even read the article.”
I shrug. “I have zero interest in what people at a gossip site have to say.”
It’s partly true. In a few weeks, I’ll care again. When the rumors are about her and another man. I’ll torture myself with images of how things could have been different. I’ll torture myself with how, once again, I’ve been left behind, holding the pieces of my heart.
“It won’t matter in a few days,” I hold her gaze, hating the regret I can see in her eyes, because it changes nothing. “Once you’re back in L.A., there’ll be new rumors, a new love interest.”
The sheets rustle as she turns away. “Stop it.”
“It’s true.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I shrug. “Are you okay with that?”
She pulls in a breath. “What do you want me to do, Aidan?”