Hollywood's Secret Baby
Chapter 27
I roll over in bed so that I’m on my side facing Cory. After a long day of feeling utterly disgusting, I’m finally clean and relaxing at Sarah’s guest house. I let Cory have his alone time with Lizzie, eating pizza and ice cream and who knows what else. She didn’t seem to mind abandoning me at all when I said I just wanted to get cleaned up and rest.
The little traitor.
She fell asleep on the couch after playing with the electronic reclining sofa in the living room. The broken finger hasn’t slowed her down in the least.
“You should have told me Lizzie was in the hospital.”
Cory rolls over so that we’re now nose-to-nose. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. Brian, my stand-in, said you killed it. Not that I ever doubted you.”
He’s trying to change the subject. But as much as I could wallow in his adoration for days, we need to discuss other things.
“What did you say to Lizzie?”
“To get her to stop crying?” Cory’s damned smirk is back in full force as he relives some dad joke he made. “I told her that crying would only make her bone heal slower. That if she really wanted to feel better, she had to laugh. Then I tickled her.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
All the teasing fun drains from Cory’s face, leaving behind features that suddenly look five years older. “I told her the truth. And I apologized. A lot. Plus, I may have promised her that I would take her to Disneyland anytime she wanted.”
“That’ll do it.”
“I also told her that I wanted to be her father for real. That I wanted us to be a real family. Only there was one problem.”
Here it is. The big excuse he’s been holding back. I don’t know if it’s an inability to commit, a refusal of giving up his bachelor life, or the fear of losing his edge when family matters encroach on the time he spends directing.
I could ask him what’s holding him back. Maybe even beg him to reconsider. Instead I hold my tongue. Because while I want this to work—from the bottom of my threadbare heart I want us to work—there’s this huge shadow cast across my puny hope. He needs to come out with this, on his own terms and in his own words. I’m done meeting him in the middle; it’s time for him to step up.
“I told her that before we could be a big happy family, her mom needed to do something really hard. Impossible for most people to even consider.”
I can’t hold back. “So this is all on me now? I’m the one who raised our daughter while you were gallivanting around Hollywood, and it’s my responsibility to pull us back together when you’re the one who left?”
Cory stares at me for a moment, blinks once, and asks, “Gallivanting?”
“It means running around all free and without worrying about the girl you knocked up.”
“I know what ‘gallivanting’ is. And I’m not gallivanting. I never was because I don’t live in the 1920s. All I’m asking from you is one thing.”
“What?” I spit out, just about a hair’s breadth away from throwing the blanket off me and stomping off into the living room to sleep on the floor.
“Forgiveness.”
“What?”
“For leaving then. For not coming back sooner. For waiting to tell Lizzie.” He reaches out and cups the line of my jaw. His thumb caresses my cheek. “For not saying I love you that day in the dressing room.”
My eyes are watering and I catch myself chewing on my lower lip. As much as I was hoping for a happy outcome like this, I’m still hesitant to leap into this. “There’s something you need to say first. Before I can forgive you.”
Cory leans forward and places his lips on mine. It’s a tender motion. All of his usual silliness that hides what he’s really feeling is gone. When he pulls away, it’s like I can see Cory without any filters or armor or layers. It’s just him, raw and real.
“I love you,” he says.
It’s my turn to smirk. I return the kiss and then say, “That’s lovely to hear, but what I meant is that it’s customary to say that you’re sorry before asking someone to forgive you.”
“Shit. I didn’t say sorry? Well, I am. I’m really sorry. For everything. You know, the stuff I listed off before, and anything else in between. Hearing myself say it like that doesn’t sound like a great apology, but I mean, I really—”
Before he hangs himself with his own string of words, I shut him up by crushing my lips against his. Only this time, the tenderness shifts. Deepens. Ends up with me on top of him. Straddling his waist, his cock hardening underneath me. His hands exploring my back and down to my ass.