Run To Rome

A person didn’t look any different after they’d fallen in love.

Trent hadn’t seen her anguish when she lied that none of what they’d shared was real. Ben and Rachel bought her excuse that she was still working through the trauma of the trip. And not a single person at work had commented on how miserable she’d been since her return.

Then again, maybe she deserved her own Oscar.

Since the moment they’d arrived at the hospital until now, she’d been acting. Hours and hours of acting, every single day. Concentrated cheer succeeded in fooling everyone, and subtle makeup hid the evidence of sleepless nights, but she knew the truth as she tossed and turned in the dark.

Denying Trent and attempting to bury her feelings hadn’t protected her from further heartache; it’d jump-started the pain.

“Well, if it isn’t Halliwell.”

Halli cringed, pasted on a smile, and turned from the lobby entrance as her fingers clenched on the strap of her purse. “Hi, Jennae.”

Still bitter over a promotion lost to Halli six months ago, the station director’s tall, blonde, model-beautiful assistant paused to give her a venomous smirk. “Waiting for a date?”

Usually she didn’t let the woman’s snide comments hit their mark, but thoughts of Trent left her vulnerable. It took extra effort to lift her chin, keep her smile in place, and tell the truth. “My car’s in the shop so my brother’s picking me up for dinner.”

“Aw, how pathetically sweet.” Jennae flipped her stick-straight hair over her shoulder and sashayed away on three inch sandals with a satisfied grin curving her ever-glossed lips. “How was your little trip to Italy?”

Halli answered with her standard, “Uneventful.”

“Just like you planned.” The blonde’s patronizing chuckle bounced across the carpet before she backed into a conference room.

“Yep,” Halli whispered. She shoved the lobby door open to wait outside in the late afternoon heat of August. “Just like I planned.”

Definitely an Oscar.

Since she’d returned, not a single one of her co-workers had recognized her in the grainy photos circulating in the tabloids. It never would’ve crossed their minds that she—boring Wisconsin Halli—could have a sexy, romantic adventure with a movie star like Trent Tomlin.

Some days, even she found it hard to believe. Only in her dreams, held in his arms, did it all seem possible.

You couldn’t have paid her to tell anyone she was the woman half-hidden behind Trent’s shoulder. Jennae would’ve had a field day with that information. She loved any opportunity to grind on Halli’s self-esteem and wouldn’t have hesitated to gloat over Trent’s absence now.

It was bad enough she tortured herself, staring at pictures and watching Trent’s movies while she kicked herself for not trusting the emotion she’d glimpsed in his eyes and accepting his dinner invitation. If she’d taken whatever time he’d offered, she’d have a few more days worth of memories to cling to during her endless nights.

And she might have, if his reply to the question “Is there something going on I should know about?” hadn’t been such an emphatic, “No.”

Those last moments together plagued her memory along with everything else. How fleeting the warmth in his eyes that she cautioned herself against reading too much into. How quickly he’d accepted her assertion that the two of them were never meant to be. How swiftly he’d left without looking back.

No fight. Just that last, unexpected, blistering kiss and, “Take care, sweetheart.”

She checked for Ben’s red truck in the mostly empty parking lot before setting her purse down and dropping onto a nearby bench in defeat. It was stupid to go on like this forever, yet impossible to get Trent out of her mind. No matter what she did, she was left with only one solution.

A solution that made her bury her head in her hands to take a shaky, fortifying breath. After reluctantly toying with the idea for a couple days, now it solidified in her mind and heart.

She had to go see him.

He’d probably flash that charming smile and try to figure out a kind way to tell her she’d been nothing more than stress relief, a passable distraction, and a pain in the ass. Or, he might just flat out tell her to get lost. She drew in another unsteady breath. If he did, she’d salvage the trip by thanking him for paying their medical bills in Italy, hold her chin high, and leave with her dignity intact. Then she’d cry in private and try to figure out a way to move on with her life.

But it would be worth the risk. It had to be. Because what she was doing now was not living. Her experiences in Italy proved that truth without question. If there was the slightest chance of being held in his arms again…one more kiss…one more night…

No. She had to be realistic. Wishful thinking would only make it that much harder if he laughed in her face.

The muted rumble of an engine filtered through her conscious. Good. Ben and Rachel’s support was just what she needed right now.

She reached for her purse, lifted her head and immediately lost the ability to breathe.

It wasn’t the blue Mustang convertible that stole all her oxygen and threw her heart against her ribs; it was the baseball cap wearing, sunglasses cool, scruff-jawed man in the driver’s seat.