Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet 2)

“Charlie,” Laila gasps out, freezing just inside the doorway of the gym. Her blue eyes shift to me. Confusion. Anger. Betrayal. Those are the emotions flickering across Laila’s frozen face as she stares at me in disbelief.

Charlie reaches Laila and gives her a warm bear hug, unaware of his status as my unwitting pawn, and Laila peeks over his broad shoulder to shoot me the kind of scathing look I haven’t seen from her in a very long time. Well, that’s weird. I haven’t even gotten to the annoying part yet—the part where I supposedly find out, in front of Laila, that Charlie is gay and married. And she’s already shooting me murderous daggers? Well, that feels a bit premature . . . and vaguely worrisome. But, oh well. I’ve got a job to do. And I’m going to do it.

“It’s great to see you again, Laila,” Charlie says.

Laila returns the compliment, her face flushed.

Charlie says, “I’ve been following you and Savage on Instagram. Looks like you two are having a blast, living together and shooting the show. Emma can’t wait to see you as a judge. When will the first episode air?”

“Right after New Year’s,” Laila replies.

“Sorry, who’s Emma?” I ask. “Your daughter?”

“My stepdaughter. She and my husband came to visit me during the tour—and when Emma met Laila, she was starry-eyed. And then, when Emma saw Laila perform, forget about it. An obsession was born.”

“Tell Emma to join the club,” I say. But my eyes are on Laila’s, letting her know the full implication of Charlie’s story hasn’t escaped me. Charlie is married. And not only that, he’s married to a dude. Frankly, it was a lot easier than I thought it’d be to pull that information out of Charlie. I thought I’d have to ask him all sorts of awkward, uncharacteristically personal questions to get him to mention any of what he just said. But, no, right off the bat, I’ve hit a grand slam homerun.

Laila’s plainly furious with me. It’s not hard to see. Which makes sense, since I’ve just outed her as a liar, unless, I suppose, Charlie is a bisexual adulterer and Laila the kind of girl who’d have a tour fling with a married man. But, come on, I think we both know, in this moment, the jig is up. Her lie revealed. Yes, I was the one who jumped to the wrong conclusion in the first place about Charlie and then went on and on about my theory backstage at the awards show. But Laila confirmed her fling with Charlie and stoked my jealousy, mercilessly. So now, as far as she’s concerned, I’ve just figured out the truth about all of it.

“Hey, you know what, Charlie?” Laila says, peeling her blazing blue eyes off my smug face. “Savage didn’t know this when he invited you here to surprise me, but I’ve got plans this morning I can’t reschedule.”

“Oh, no,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, it’s a bummer. Hopefully, we can do this another time. But you two go ahead.” She looks at me, her blue eyes homicidal. “I’ll have Mike come get me now and come back for you later.”

And that’s it. Before I’ve replied, Laila turns on her heel and strides toward the exit of the gym.

“Wait!” I shout, my heart thrumming wildly in my chest. I feel panicky. Like I’ve made a misstep. Something is off. Laila was pissed the minute she saw Charlie. Yes, her anger seemed to escalate when Charlie mentioned his stepdaughter and husband, thereby proving her a liar. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s something I don’t know at play here. Some land mine I’ve stumbled into that just blew my arms and legs off, without me realizing it. “Laila, wait!”

To my surprise, she turns around in the doorway, her blue eyes blazing and her cheeks on fire. “What?” she says.

“Maybe we should . . . do another live video to let people know you made it into the gym.”

She smiles, making my stomach twist. That wasn’t a happy smile. That was a murderous one. “Great idea,” she says. “Record it now. We’ll tell everyone you got exactly what you wanted this morning.”

I grimace, unsure what to do.

“Go on,” she prompts, motioning. “Wouldn’t want to keep everyone in suspense.”

Fuck. She looks genuinely enraged. Capable of murder. And not for show.

“Uhh . . .”

“I’ll do it myself.” She grabs her phone out of a side pocket in her leggings, trains the camera on herself, and plasters a huge, fake smile on her face. She says, “Hey, guys! You did it! You convinced me to get in here and work out! I’m in the gym with my boyfriend now. He’s right there. Say hi, Savage.”

I wave feebly, feeling the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“And that’s Charlie Ford right there. The world’s most amazing personal trainer. Say hi, Charlie!”