“You want us to be caretakers?”
“Exactly.” He glances around the living room. “You made a good point. I want to focus on Audrey and what she needs right now. I can’t afford the distraction of worrying if I rented the house to some crazy person who’s going to destroy it, right?”
Doug might not be a fighter, but he’s a skilled negotiator.
“Deal.” I hold out my hand, and we shake again. “Thank you.”
“Damn you, Chaser.” Audrey’s angry voice rasps from the shadows. “I told you—”
Doug takes a few steps toward the hallway. “I’m glad he called. You think I wouldn’t want to know about this?”
“It wasn’t your place, Chaser,” she says without acknowledging Doug.
A shadow of doubt falls over me. But what’s done is done. “I hope you’ll forgive me one day, Audrey.”
“Chaser?” Mallory’s disappointed voice pricks at what’s left of my conscience.
“Let’s go,” I answer. “These two have some talking to do.”
Doug sucks in a breath when Audrey finally steps out of the hallway. “Jesus Christ, Audrey.” His head swivels between Audrey and me. “Where is this—”
“It’s handled, Doug. Just take care of your girl.”
“What happened?” He cradles the side of her face not covered in bruises.
Mallory tiptoes around the couple, but Audrey’s hand shoots out, pulling Mallory back. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“Of course.”
“Are you okay?” Doug asks.
“I’ll live.”
“Pack your stuff.”
Audrey takes a step back. “You’re kicking me out?”
“What? No. I’m done waiting for you to make a decision. We’re going to Paris like we talked about. End of discussion.”
“That a boy, Doug,” I encourage.
Mallory socks me in the gut and glares at me.
I take her hand. “We’re leaving. If you need anything, call us.”
“I’ll have the keys messengered over to your place when the house is ready,” Doug promises.
“What’s he talking about?” Mallory asks.
I lean down and kiss her temple, stopping to inhale her clean scent.
“Big changes coming soon, little dove,” I say against her ear.
At my bike, I stop and pull her into my arms. Holding onto her for a few seconds. Needing her close to wash away last night’s ugliness.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Mallory
Doug moved fast. Within days, he and Audrey are on a private jet to Paris.
Chaser and I move into the house shortly after.
Alvin takes our move out of the apartment the hardest. He does assume our lease upstairs. So at least he has a less chaotic place to sleep now.
My part on Shallow End has expanded into a recurring role, so Pamela and I are still driving to work together on the days we’re both filming. At least now that we live closer, I don’t feel as bad about her picking me up every morning.
“Chaser’s in rehearsal all afternoon, right?” Pamela asks after we finish filming for the day.
“Yes.” I planned to ask her to drop me off at the rehearsal studio, but she obviously has other ideas in mind.
“Let’s go dress shopping! You’re up for Video Vixen. So, you need something extra-hot for the awards show.”
“I have time to find the right dress.” Honestly, I’ve been so consumed with the new job, moving into the house, and worrying about Chaser leaving for tour, that I haven’t given the awards show a lot of thought.
“If you wait too long, you’ll be left with bedsheets for a dress.” She curls her arm around mine and marches me out to her car. “We’ll have fun. Promise.”
“Okay.” Not that another answer seems to be an option here. “My agent said a few people contacted her about loaning me a dress.”
“Pssh,” she waves off my comment. “I know people too.”
“Is Andrew excited about his nomination?”
She frowns at me for a second before answering. “He’s already won like twenty times. It’s more of an excuse to show off at this point. It’s a bigger deal for Chaser.” She squeezes her eyes shut tight for a few seconds. “And I really hope he kicks Vinnie’s ass.”
“I think he was just excited to be nominated with Vinnie.”
“You don’t always have to be so diplomatic, Mallory.”
“I’m not.”
She starts the car and reverses out of the parking spot. “How can you be dating a rock star for this long and still be such a good girl?”
“I don’t know about that.” I snort-laugh. “Chaser’s worked that out of me.”
“Mallory! I’m shocked.” She hesitates for a second. “Wait a minute. How many other boyfriends have you had?”
My cheeks warm. I hate when people ask personal questions. “He’s my first.”
“Wait. First official boyfriend? First long-term boyfriend? First live-in? What kind of first are we talking about?”
“Everything.”
She slams on the brake, whipping my body forward.
“Get out of here,” she says in a low, dramatic voice.
I glance out the window over the studio parking lot. We’re blocking the flow of traffic, but Pamela doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Pamela,” I plead. “Let’s go.”
“Sorry.” She shakes her head fast and steps on the gas. “How is that possible?”