She nodded. “They will be at the beginning. They’ll want to take pictures and do interviews. Then they’ll have a private party afterward.”
“How long have you known about this?”
“A while,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to go, but I should. It’s in my contract. Plus, it would feel like admitting defeat if I didn’t.”
“Makes sense. Is this a social type thing? Like where people bring dates?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” I said. “Then I’m comin’.”
She swung her legs around so she was sitting upright in her chair. “Jameson, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s going to be crazy. All these cameras and people shoving microphones in your face—you’d be miserable.”
“Darlin’, last I checked, my balls are still in place,” I said. “A man does what needs to be done, even if it’s outside his comfort zone. I’d never let you face that shitshow by yourself. Of course I’m going with you.”
“That would make it a lot easier.”
I shifted forward in my seat and leaned closer so I could tuck her hair behind her ear. “That’s exactly why I’m going.”
She smiled and pressed her lips to mine. I kissed her back, softly. I wasn’t surprised she’d assumed I wouldn’t be willing to go with her. Took a man to stand up and do what was necessary. Last guy she’d been with hadn’t been much of one. She wasn’t used to someone standing by her side when things got tough.
“You didn’t need to keep this to yourself,” I said, touching her face with the backs of my fingers. “Next time, let me know. I love you, Leah Mae. I’ll walk through hell and shake hands with the devil himself if you need me to.”
Not that I was thrilled with the prospect—of the devil, or this party. A studio event in Los Angeles sounded about as far outside my realm of experience as you could get. And the media being there? Hell, it was liable to be a disaster. But I still wasn’t going to let her face that disaster by herself.
But I wasn’t too proud to get a little advice on the matter. So the next day when Scarlett asked me to swing by and help her with a few things at Dad’s old place, I thought I might mention it. See if she had anything to say. Trouble was, conversations where things like feelings were going to be front and center were about as easy for me to face as a crowd of people wanting to hear me speak.
Scarlett was ripping up the linoleum in the kitchen when I arrived. I’d brought work gloves, so I put them on and without a word, got down to helping her.
We worked for a while, with Scarlett doing most of the talking. She’d recently had brunch with Devlin’s parents, and it had gone well. Seemed she’d been her usual sassy self, rolling over them like a tornado in a trailer park.
She stood and brushed her gloved hands together. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore a dusty t-shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and a pair of brown work boots.
“Not bad for an afternoon’s work. Thanks, Jame.”
“Anytime,” I said. “Sounds like things with Dev are goin’ all right.”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile, her eyes sparkling. “They sure are.”
“Good.”
I rubbed my neck and glanced away, not sure how to bring up the trip to L.A. Seemed like a simple thing—nothing I should get nervous about. But it wasn’t travel tips I was looking for. And I had no idea how to start a conversation about my relationship. Or how I was feeling about it all.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She laughed. “Jameson Bodine, you act like I’m not your sister who can read you like… well, like a book or a magazine or just about anything. What’s wrong?”
“It’s not that something is wrong,” I said.
“Okay, what then?”
I shrugged. “Well, Leah Mae has to go to a studio party in L.A. next week.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“No, not especially,” I said. “I’m going with her.”
She grinned at me. “Course you are. You worried about what to wear or something?”