Nacho gives me a double-take but keeps his voice low. “Your ex? As intheOliver Campisi?”
I don’t want to take away the sparkle in his eyes, but it’s taking me everything not to tell him that Oliver is not worth the idolization. That he would have never even broken into thebusiness if not for his mother,theSusan Renfort, a three-time Oscar winner in her own right.
I say nothing of the sort.
I simply give him a thin-lipped smile and nod.
“The one and only.”
“Of course,” Nacho says quickly. “And besides, I’m sure the cast would love to meet him.”
I elbow his ribs and crack a real smile this time. “And by cast, you mean you.”
He muffles his snicker and puts a finger to his lips as if playfully trying to shush me.
We return to watching the rehearsal, and I text Oliver. He answers back immediately.
“He’ll be here in ten.”
Oliver is effortlessly charming,as always. He takes the time to speak to everyone in the cast individually as they gush about hissuperbacting skills andprolificbody of work. I drag him backstage before he starts signing autographs in the next ten seconds.
“Nice group of people you got there,” Oliver notes as he follows me down a half-lit corridor.
“Please,” I say as I shoot him an unimpressed look over my shoulder.
“What?”
I stop and turn around to face him, his face a picture of innocence.
“You’re just saying that because they were showering you with praise.”
Oliver cocks a grin but doesn’t try to defend himself. He takes a casual step forward, his eyes dragging down my body, then back up.
“If memory serves, you enjoy praise just as much as I do.”
A pleasurable shiver travels down my spine at the obvious innuendo. But it’s more like a phantom reaction, a synapse fired by an old memory. It doesn’t mean a damn thing.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms.
“This concludes your visit to the Remington,” I say dryly. “You can leave now.”
Oliver’s laugh is dark and arrogant as if he’s getting a kick out of me acting like a bitch.
“Oh, come on, babe, don’t be like that,” he coos. “I thought we could celebrate tonight.”
My brows dip. “Celebrate what?”
“I’ll tell you all about it at dinner,” he says as he tries to place his hand on the small of my back.
Nothing about what he just said should leave me suspicious, but I get hit with a wave of apprehension nonetheless. The feeling is akin to tapping into a truth that I am not yet privy to but still recognize. I swing my hips to the side to avoid his hand and take a step away from him, my arms still crossed.
“Actually, I want you to tell me now.”
There must be just enough defiance in my expression for Oliver to heed my demand, because he sighs but then smiles widely. His eyes shimmer as he slides his hands into his Moschino trench coat.
“Guess who just sold Love Lies Waiting to Universal.”
My heart speeds up and sinks in one fell swoop.
