Breaking Stars (The Celebrity 2)

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After pulling to a screeching stop into Quinn’s driveway, I all but sprinted inside the front doors. The camera crews had already packed up and gone, but I could hear the sound of Tatum and Ryson’s voices filling the air as I rushed through the house.

“Tatum!” I shouted as the sound of a chair scooting across the tile floor hit my ears.

“Paige!”

We both rounded corners at the same time and stopped at opposite sides of the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, then took a tentative step toward me.

I bolted toward him and surprised him by jumping into his waiting arms. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I squeezed him as tightly as I could.

“I can’t believe you went on TV,” I said softly against his neck.

He shivered, and I smiled to myself as his grip on me tightened. He pulled his head back, his eyes meeting mine.

“I did it for you. And Quinn helped. A lot.”

“Yeah, I did,” she shouted from somewhere in the dining room.

Tatum rested his forehead against mine, a smile on his lips. “I love you, Paige.”

“I love you too,” I admitted for the first time as my previously cracked heart clicked into place, making me feel whole.

“I’m so damn sorry for how I reacted. I can’t promise you that I’ll never act like a dumbass ever again, but I can promise that I’ll try. I meant every word I said tonight. You’re worth it. I should have fought for you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

“Shut up. God, just shut up already.”

I crushed my mouth against his, all my feelings pouring out as I reacquainted myself with his mouth. I kissed him for all the days we’d been apart, as well as all the nights I’d dreamed of him, wishing we were still together.

As I unwrapped my legs from around his hips, he lowered me gently to the floor, his hands never breaking contact with my body, our mouths still connected.

“Jeez, get a room already,” Ryson pretended to complain as he walked past us.

We pulled apart, smiles on both our faces. “Maybe we can christen the Jungle room since you’re a boy and Quinn never lets me stay in there?” I asked loud enough for Quinn to hear, and she groaned.

“Damn it, Paige, what is it with you and that room?”

“Can’t we go home instead?” Tatum looked down at me, looking happier and more relaxed than I’d ever seen him.

“Home? Like my home?”

“Yes, Paige. Your home. Our home. Whatever. Let’s go home,” he insisted, and who was I to argue.

Epilogue

Paige

Six months later

Tatum moved in that night after the interview. Actually, he just never left. My family met him soon after. They not only forgave him for hurting me, but practically gave their blessing for our future wedding and kids, something Tatum and I hadn’t even talked about yet. It had been a little awkward, but secretly I craved their approval and was thrilled at how much they seemed to love and accept him.

Aside from flying back home once to pack a single bag of his things, Tatum refused to be away from me. It was during that trip home that his mom finally told him that his dad had left a life insurance policy for them. She’d put aside half the money for Tatum when the time was right, and when she presented him with a check for almost two hundred thousand dollars, he refused to take it. That was, until his mom reminded him that she had the other half and would not be hurting for money if he left her on her own.

Our moving in together might have seemed crazy to some, too soon to others, but it felt right to us. It still does. We both knew that if he moved all the way out here and I forced him to rent his own place purely out of principle, it would be a complete waste. Rental property in Los Angeles was overpriced and ridiculously expensive. And that was something I didn’t feel right about doing—wasting his family’s money when it wasn’t necessary. Plus, waking up in his arms each morning was the highlight of my day.

I got accepted into UCLA and started attending classes in the fall. It was a difficult adjustment, way harder than I’d anticipated, and I’m not sure how long I’ll keep attending. The students in my classes did a lot of staring at first, but no one really talked to me, so I ended up feeling very out of place and alone. People talked about me, but never included me in the conversation. It was as if they were too afraid to approach me, but weren’t afraid to stare at me and make things awkward.