I held my glass up, clinking his. “Then I guess I’ll just have to find a man who loves pumpkin pie, now won’t I?”
Omar’s laugh bellowed through the kitchen. “Too bad I’m an apple crumb kind of man myself.” He winked, rubbing a hand over his smooth head.
“And what about your drama with Simon?” I asked. One look at Omar’s expressive eyes, and I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up.
“He wants another two hundred thousand to keep quiet,” Omar muttered, eyes cast down into saucepan.
My stomach twisted, hatred dripping out like acid. I didn’t hate many people in the world… It was a strong word and I didn’t like it… But IhatedOmar’s ex-boyfriend, Simon. “Another two hundred thousand? When you already gave him three hundred grand? Have you ever seen this alleged video he has of you two?” Though I couldn’t see Omar’s eyes, his shoulders slumped, defeated. A lump lodged, thick and heavily in my throat.
I slid off the stool, walking over to where Omar stood and wrapped my arms around his torso. My cheek fell against the hard muscles of his back and his ribs collapsed with a long exhale. “I have some royalties from Bridesmaid Retreat you can use, if you need it,” I offered.
I felt, rather than saw, Omar shaking his head. “I have a little left over from my other movie. And I should know about whether or not I got the part in this new franchise. Six guaranteed movies.” He let out a low whistle. “That’ll help me recover from this payout.”
Anxiety coiled at the base of my chest. I didn’t like it. Paying off Omar’s ex—hell, not even an ex. A man he had a few weeks with down in Cabo. As soon as Simon got wind of this new movie deal, he’d just ask for more money. “Are you sure paying him is the right move? Maybe—”
“Yes,” Omar interrupted. “I have to pay him. After I get this part—sign the contracts, maybe I can consider coming out. My agent and manager both think it’s the way to go.”
I curled my fingers around his elbow, turning Omar to face me. His large, brown eyes were wet with a sheen of unshed tears that he only ever revealed to me. “What about whatyouthink? Whatyouwant?”
His fingers brushed over my face, gently. “I want the least drama possible.”
I cringed. Why was this industry so hard? Why couldn’t you just be an actor on screen and do your own thing in private, without tabloids and fans and people constantly trying to fit every actor into one of four archetypes. “And the least drama is really paying half a million to an asshole? Denying who you really are? Lying to your fans… Who I bet that same half million you spent on Simon, would support you? Pretending to be engaged to a woman you aren’t in love with?”
For a quick moment, I thought he might agree with me. But just as quickly as I saw the action-hero mask slip, revealing the beautifully vulnerable side to Omar he hardly ever exposed, it vanished. Leaning down, he pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek. “How could any man not love you?” Before I could answer, he swept me into his arms and spinning us across the kitchen, two-stepping beside me. “We need to celebrate your successful audition tonight! After dinner—some dancing, maybe?” Tugging me against his warm body, he waltzed us through the kitchen like he was some sort of contemporary Gene Kelly. Then, slanting my body into a dip, he paused in that position, kissing the tip of my nose. My heart warmed as his lips brushed my nose. How did I get so lucky? In a town full of leeches, I found a butterfly. My phone buzzed, vibrating across the counter. Omar spun me out of his arms and I swayed on my feet, using the counter to steady myself. Dang, I needed to get myself into some dance classes to keep up.
When I reached my phone, my heart jumped to my throat. The text was from Kyle—Callback next Thursday, 1pm. Congrats!I held the phone up to Omar, “See? Told you I wasn’t counting my chickens early.”
