“I have time.” He kisses my lips when I look up at him. “Are you tired?”
“No, I’m good. When do we leave again?” I didn’t ask him any details about the trip; I’m just going along with him. I overpacked, so I’m not worried about running out of clothes.
“We leave the day after tomorrow unless you want to stay and sightsee. I just want to go back home and hibernate for the next two weeks.”
“That sounds like a plan.” I look out the window. “I really have to start looking for work.”
“Can you take a couple of weeks off?” he asks me, and I nod. With no rent to pay and only a car payment, I should be good for the next six months. Seven, if I’m really stingy. “Good,” he says, looking out the window while we wait for room service.
“Are you almost ready?” I hear him say from the bedroom. After room service, he ordered us a couple’s massage, knowing I was a wreck about our first red carpet event since I published my letter. A letter that went viral and was on every single magazine and entertainment show. The intimate picture of us is nowhere now, and it’s just the two of us in a boat smiling for the cameras with the cherry blossoms as our backdrop.
I stand and look in the mirror. I’m wearing a blush pink dress with a thin light gray belt around my waist. The dress goes high to my neck, the neckline sheer. Little light pink delicate flowers are sewn all over the dress along with sequins and pearls. I put on my light nude Louboutins. “Jess.” I hear him again, and he walks in. He’s wearing a light gray suit with a white shirt underneath and a dark blue tie. He stops in his tracks when he sees me. “You look . . .” His voice trails off.
“Is it okay?” I smooth down the front, the bangles on my arm clinking. “I mean, it’s not too much, right?”
He shakes his head, coming closer to me. “No.” He grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. “Let’s go before I change my mind and take this dress right off you.” He pulls me toward the door. We take the golf cart back to the lobby and get into the black town car, making our way over to the red carpet. We pull up, and I hear the fans chanting outside. “This is it.” He turns and leans in to kiss me. “You ready?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” The nerves in my stomach are making me nauseated. “Go and be the superstar. I’ll be here.” He gets out of the car, waving to the fans across the street, and then he reaches in the car to take my hand. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” With his hand in mine, we walk the red carpet. His arm goes around my waist while we smile at the cameras. I look over at him, and he gives the paparazzi what they want when he leans in and kisses me.
When we wake up the next day, another picture of us is all over the magazines. This time, the headline makes me throw my head back and laugh.
Hollywood Playboy no more.
EPILOGUE ONE
Jessica
Six months later
“I just don’t know why you are in such a rush to sell the LA house.” I look over at Tyler as he puts another log into the fire. We are back in Montana, sitting outside on the round circle couch he had delivered while we were in LA. I didn’t have to go back to LA with him. I could have stayed here, but when I told him I would be staying in Montana, he was like a child and pouted for a whole hour.
I look at the outside fire pit in all brown brick, matching the stones around the pool. The deck sits above the pool right next to the bubbling jacuzzi. He turns around and comes back to me. Sitting down next to me, he takes me in his arms as we watch the orange flames. “I’m in a rush because I’ve always hated that house, and I don’t want it anymore.”
I shake my head. “Shouldn’t you think about it before you do this?”
“Thought about it, babe.” His hand rubs up and down my arm. “I don’t want to be in that house. I want this to be my house.” Over the past six months, this has been our home. Yes, ours. He made that clear when he had my storage locker shipped to Montana, and now pieces of my home are mixed with his. I’ve been lucky to be a freelance journalist now. I decide what I want to write about and who gets the story. The fact that I’m Tyler’s girlfriend doesn’t matter anymore. It’s old news; we’re old news. I mean, there are times I’ll be at the grocery store and see a picture of us on the cover. A picture captured when we are out and about, which always stuns me since we never see the photographers. I’ve even been on the red carpet with him last week. We smiled, and he waved at his fans. What we weren’t expecting was to come face-to-face with Cassie. She saw us coming down the red carpet and hightailed it out of there. Word is she’s the assistant for some B-list actor.