That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.
She lied her way into a DUI charge trying to protect me. The consequences were severe—a hefty fine and a possible prison sentence of up to a year. It would have ruined her life. I could have told the truth, admitted I was the one behind the wheel. But it was her car, her word against mine, and neither of us were in the vehicle when the cops arrived.
And then there was my father’s wrath, always looming, waiting for me to slip. I was powerless, barely eighteen, and desperate.
So I did the only thing I could—I begged my parents to make it go away. I promised them my freedom, my future, if Dad would pull whatever strings he had and scrub that DUI off her record. I needed him to do it.
And he did.
But how can I tell her that without sounding like a martyr or a whiny, ungrateful asshole? I’m one of Hollywood’s biggest stars now, an A-list celebrity. From her point of view, I’ve got it all—the fame, the fortune—while she was left behind, forgotten. There’s no way I can explain how empty I feel. How lost. She’d probably laugh in my face or slap me and tell me to grow the fuck up. I wouldn’t blame her.
Stevie finds my eyes, softness mingling with years’ worth of resentment and pain. She sees the parallels just like I do. “Why shouldn’t I do it again? It worked out well for you the last time I took the fall.”
I hear it in her voice.
She despises me, thinks I stole her dreams out from under her.
I have all she’s ever wanted, but she doesn’t know that her dreams would have been even further out of reach if I hadn’t sacrificed everything to protect her future.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I swivel around, my coattails fluttering behind me. “They’ll tear you apart.”
“So? They’re going to anyway. It was a done deal the moment you wrote me into your show and my name got out.”
A frown furls between my eyes, and I turn to face her. “It was just a TV show, Nicks. Writers pull from real-life shit all the time.” It’s true I used pieces of the truth and spun the rest to make a good story, but it was therapy for me. An outlet. It was all I had. “But this? That interview?” I point to the door. “That was real. Now we need to face the music.”
She huffs. “Music.”
“Yes. You just painted a narrative, and now we need to see it through.”
“See it through how?”
My eyebrows lift to my hairline as I stare at her, waiting for her to connect the dots.
Her head jerks back. “I’m not staying in LA to live out this fake fairy tale with you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That’s exactly what I’m getting at.”
“Wow. No. Absolutely not.”
“What did you think was going to happen?”
“I…I don’t know.” Her complexion goes ashen. “I figured you’d handle it.”
“The only other way of handling it is saying you lied. You’ll be crucified by the media. That’s not an option.”
“I was just trying to help!” she shoots back, eyes flaring with true fear. “You flew me in to parade me around as your new girlfriend. I sold it. I held up my end of the deal, and now the deal is done.”
Someone knocks on the door.
“Fuck.” I curse under my breath, trying to figure out a way tohandlethis. “Come on. We need to go.”
I take her by the hand and unlock the door, apologizing to one of my costars waiting on the other side as we shuffle by.
Stevie slaps on a fake smile the moment we’re in the limelight again, and I curl an arm around her waist, making eyes with a flustered Rudy as we make our way to one of the tables.
He covertly slides two fingers under his chin.
Damage control, coming in hot.
