“Hey.”
Grayson’s quiet voice pulls me from my thoughts. The lights are on in the theatre now, and I blink rapidly, trying to orient myself. A quick glance upwards shows the night sky projected against the inside of the dome, the stars twinkling gently once more.
Grayson is watching me with concern. “You okay?”
I nod, but I don’t know if it’s true.
We make it out of the planetarium without being stopped, although I do notice one teen snapping a picture of us in the lobby. The stars are visible outside, not quite as brilliant as they were in the theatre, but beautiful all the same. They’re easier to see here, so far from any cities.
Would Grayson ever want to move out to the middle of nowhere where he could better see the stars? Maybe I could find something small to buy, a place we could retreat to when the rest of the world is too demanding and we need to escape.
It could be our own. No paparazzi. No well-meaning agents or fans vying for our attention. Nothing but him and me and peaceful quiet beneath a blanket of unending stars.
We climb inside my Escalade, but I don’t immediately start the vehicle. I can feel Grayson watching me.
“Ez.” His voice comes out choked, his blue eyes stormy when I meet his gaze. “I know them. In here, I do.”
He taps his chest, and I nod in a stilted jerk, not needing to askwho.
“Did you feel it?”
There’s a desperation in Grayson’s tone, as if he needs to know he’s not alone in this. My friend has always been intuitive. It’s uncanny, really, the way he can make split-second decisions about a person he’s never met before, and his gut instincts about them are always correct. It’s as if he operates on a wavelength others can’t see or understand, myself included.
But this…
The memory of Leandros holding his lover comes to mind. The way I ached with it. Still do. The feel of my own chest being torn in two, as if my heart was dying right alongside the fearsome warrior who was staring his absolute worst nightmare in the face.
“Yeah, Gray,” I answer, my voice a hoarse whisper. “I felt it.”
Chapter 25
Grayson
Ezra is quiet for most of our return trip home.
We spent our final night doing our absolute best not to think about the real world and what was waiting for us. The two of us snuck into the gated pool at the hotel late after hours and watched the stars until well past midnight. And then we lay side-by-side in our king-sized bed, talking about the trips we could take. The places we could see and where Madison might like to visit.
But with every hour that passed in our blissful bubble, the morning loomed closer.
I’m not used to Ezra being so withdrawn, but I leave him to his silence as miles of highway pass. For all I know, he’s plotting the next ten steps in his plan to guide the media’s response to our supposed romance. I know Shawn thinks Ezra is too laissez-faire about his image, especially now with everything that’s happening. But Ezra is always one step ahead. He’s simply quiet about his maneuvering.
The man would make an excellent chess player if he ever got the inclination. Or even a war general.
Ezra’s shoulders get tense as we drive the side streets toward home. I reach over, squeezing his arm, and he shoots me a tiny smile. Always a brave face. Always brave, period.
The reporters appear once we turn onto our drive. They race toward the vehicle, cameras flashing, questions shouted our way that we ignore.
Ezra’s smile is rueful. “Ready to face the music?”
“The symphony has already begun,” I murmur.
The gates open slowly in front of us, Ezra maneuvering forward through the crowd. No one dares step inside, but they continue shouting as the metal clangs shut behind us. Shawn’s vehicle is waiting in front of the garage, and Ezra lets out a mighty sigh.
“It’s not too late to run,” I tease. “We could dye our hair. Live on some remote island where no one knows our faces.”
He snorts. “Don’t tempt me. Maybe one day, though. Me. You. Goddamn meringue. I swear to God, I’m going to learn.”
I huff a small laugh. “Sounds like a perfect, simple life.”
