by Misti Murphy
“What?” Tim looks as confused as I feel.
“You and Bree. You’re not in here because the men’s toilet is broken.” She gazes over her shoulder at the stalls. “You were planning on getting busy.”
“No way.” I laugh.
“Fuck no.” Tim scowls at her.
“He’s my best friend,” I say.
“I have a boyfriend,” he exclaims.
“He’s your boyfriend now?” I grin as I throw my arms around Tim. “That’s awesome.”
“Thanks, Breezy.”
“Okay.” Marissa pulls a cosmetic bag out of her handbag, preparing to hunker down for life based on the amount of powders, pencils, and lipsticks that spill out of it when she sets it down.
“Are you going to be long, Marissa?” Tim demands.
“Just need to touch up. You understand that, don’t you, Tim? Us girls have to keep pretty for our men.”
“Not a girl.” He thumbs his chest.
“A minute. Maybe three.” I pat his arm and mutter under my breath, “She’ll be done.”
“I guess you don’t.” She picks up a powder and pats it onto her face while she scans his body. “But me and Bree. Us single girls. We have to put some effort in.”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m not single. Really, I do, but she doesn’t give me a chance.
“That Parker Kent is hot, isn’t he? Have you caught an eyeful of his package yet, Bree? I heard it’s branded and trademarked. Actually... Do you know if that’s true? I know you’re in charge of the insurance on it.” She drops the powder back on the counter and picks up an eyeliner before I can butt in. “I’d love to see what that man can do in bed.” She sighs wistfully then starts applying the black pencil to her upper lid. “It’s such a shame he’s dating someone now.”
“He is?” I ask, not because I’m surprised. Okay, I’m a little surprised because she sounds so certain, yet she’s telling me like it’s huge news, which means she doesn’t know I’m his girlfriend. Maybe he’s finally said something in one of his interviews. He didn’t tell me he was going to, but I like it. My heart glows with warmth.
“Yeah. That woman. His costar.” She twirls her pencil in the air.
“Anabelle Peters?”
“Right. Anabelle. That’s it. It’s all over the media. Oh my gosh, they were so cute together last night. Denying it. But it’s so obvious.”
My stomach knots up the same way it always does when I see an article about Parker and Anabelle. It climbs into my throat and then drops down, down, down like a rollercoaster. But she’s wrong.
“Are you done yet, Marissa?” Tim growls and sets off my spidey senses. Tim’s being too weird, too protective.
“Nearly.” She tosses the pencil down in favor of mascara. “She’s one lucky bitch. What I wouldn’t do for some one on one time with him.”
“Out.” Tim starts shoving all her cosmetics back into her bag. Grabbing her arm, he ushers her out the bathroom door and locks it behind her.
“I can’t believe you. I wasn’t done,” she complains through the door.
Coming back to me, he scrubs a hand through his hair. His gaze makes my knees weak and my mouth dry. There’s nothing fun in the way he’s looking at me. Or how he grabs my elbow as though to hold me up while he pushes his phone into my hand. “I don’t know...if it means anything. Maybe it’s nothing. It could be nothing. But I think you need to see this.”
I hit the play button. It’s some TMZ footage taken last night. It’s not one of Parker and Anabelle’s interviews. This has an attacked by paparazzi on the warpath vibe.
My gorgeous boyfriend walks out of a restaurant. He’s casual. Jeans and a fitted T-shirt that hugs his muscles oh so right. A baseball cap is balanced on his head, and aviators are perched on the bridge of his nose.
Anabelle Peters steps out behind him. Her eyes widen, and she touches the crook of his arm while she whispers something in his ear. The photographers go wild. Flashes reflect off the glass behind them. He tilts his head close to her ear to respond to whatever she said, the muscle along the side of his jaw bunching like it does when he’s on edge. My breath catches and the pit of my stomach squeezes so hard I feel dizzy. They look so comfortable together. The way her hand slides up his bicep, almost intimate.
Last night I was cuddled up with Sirius Black, watching The Fast and the Furious and eating more pizza than any woman should because Parker had cancelled our plans. He was exhausted from all the promo he’d been doing and didn’t think he’d be good company. I told him I understood. Even though I wanted to see him, since we’d barely had time together these last couple weeks. And when we had seen each other, he’d been a little distant. But that was stress, wasn’t it? Because of the movie. Which would be over soon. Things would go back to how they were. Before he told me that he loved me. What was one more night, right?
“I’ve seen enough.” I push the phone back at Tim. I don’t want to see this. He bailed on me and lied about it. Was it all so he could spend time with her? I need to talk to Parker. He’ll tell me this is nothing. Even though it looks like something. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you and Anabelle dating?” One of the guys off camera asks.
“We’re friends,” she says, finally relinquishing his arm.
“Good friends, hey, Anabelle?” another cheeky twat asks.
“Something like that.” She smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she gazes at Parker.
“No comment,” Parker mutters, sounding seriously put out by having a camera shoved in his face.
The image of him is a close up. I can see the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. Maybe Anabelle likes his beard. Maybe he’s sick of having to shave so much for me.
“There are rumors you’ve been seeing another woman, Parker. Other than Anabelle. Staying true to those bad boy roots.”
“What?” Parker glances up, and even though his eyes are hidden behind his aviators I imagine he’s looking at me. Or at least thinking about me. That’s me. I’m the woman he’s been seeing. The one he’s in love with. Okay, maybe right now I need to remind myself of that because I’m feeling insecure.
“Who’s the pretty redhead, Parker?”
“Yeah, who is she?”
“Who is she?”
Tim’s hand tightens on my arm, and my breath catches. For one sparkling second, I hope that he’s going to tell them something. Maybe not my name, but something that will make it clear he’s not with Anabelle.
“I know plenty of redheads,” he says.
Tim lets go of his phone, which is lodged in my claws. There’s no way Parker doesn’t know they’re talking about me specifically. I’m not a classic redhead, more a gingery blonde, but still... he has to know who they’re talking about. So why is he brushing it off like I don’t exist?
“I’ve got a picture,” one of them says. A second later a camera is waved in front of Parker.
He glances at the image and his lips twitch. But it’s weird. I have no idea what that lip curl means. The image pops up on the screen. A rectangle in the corner. It’s Parker and me, walking hand in hand. It’s definitely us.
I need to see his eyes. I wish I could see them. My stomach is churning violently, and my heart is catching on every thunderous beat. If I could see his eyes maybe this sinking ship sensation I’m getting wouldn’t be so bad. What is he thinking? We never discussed taking our relationship public, but we never talked about hiding it either.
Parker turns away. They’ve been walking the whole time. Back to his car. He opens the door for Anabelle and shuts it once she’s inside.
“Who’s the mystery woman, Parker?”
He jogs around to the driver’s side.
“Is there anything you can tell us about her?”
“Are you cheating on Anabelle?”
“Who is she, Parker?”
He reefs open the door. Pauses to glance at the cameras.
My heart stops. Everything slows down. I want to toss
Tim’s phone back to him, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Parker.
His jaw clenches and he shrugs. “Nobody. We hung out a couple times.”
The phone falls from my fingers as my legs give out. Tim’s prepared, though. His arm snakes around my waist, holding me upright while my knees take a second to start working again. He scoops up his phone. Shuts it off. Puts it in his pocket.
“I’m nobody?” I rasp.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Breezy,” Tim tells me. “They’re media. He’s got to be careful what he says, right? Maybe he was trying to protect you?”
I don’t know if he believes what he’s saying, or if he’s trying to give me hope.
“He told me he loved me,” I whisper, but I’ve heard that before. Ty told me he loved me and then he fucked my best friend and another girl too. Even if I’d put out the outcome would have still been the same. Cal warned me about Ty, and he warned me about Parker. But I didn’t listen. I thought I knew Parker better. I believed in him when he told me he wasn’t that guy anymore. But he lied to me about spending the evening at home, so he could spend more time with Anabelle. “Why would he do that?”
Unless I don’t mean anything to him.
“You need to talk to him. You need to ask him about it,” Tim urges. “Or I can talk to him. Kick his ass.”
“No.” I shake my head. Tears brim, blurring my vision. I push Tim away. I appreciate the sentiment, but Tim’s a lover, not a fighter. Parker could crack him with those boulders he likes to pretend are arms. “No, I can’t have you do that.”
“So what are you going to do?” he asks softly.
“I don’t know.” I swipe my fingers under my eyes and sniff back a sob. I need time to think. “I need to go home. Can you tell Malcolm?”
“I’ll tell him you’re sick,” he says, pushing open the bathroom door for me. “Both ends. Big mess. You know how much he hates stomach flu. He won’t question it.”
“Thanks.” I hurry back to my cubicle to collect my things.
“Call me later. Or I’ll come over,” Tim says, hugging me to his side as he sees me to the elevator.
I nod as the doors close between us.
***
I don’t know how I end up at Parker’s apartment. I was on the train. Ignoring the woman beside me in the feathered hat who smelled like whiskey and had a ferret in her purse. Staring out the window. Parker’s billboard made its usual appearance. Fucking billboards.
Somewhere along the line I got off the train and started walking, and now I’m outside Parker’s door. Standing with my fist raised to the wood. I’m not sure I’m ready to confront him. I’m not sure I should even talk to him. It’s obvious he’s not the man I’d let myself believe he was. I don’t really need to see him, just so he can confirm it for me.
I guess part of me wants to hope, because it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
The door swings open, but it’s not Parker. It’s Anabelle. Dressed in one of his shirts and not much else. Her silver blonde locks are hanging in messy waves. It’s déjà vu. It’s mine and Parker’s first meeting all over again. Only there’s no Violet Coat Hanger. Just Anabelle freaking Peters, who the whole world has suspected has been dating my boyfriend for weeks. But I didn’t want to believe.
“Hi,” she says, smiling. “Are you looking for Parker? He popped out to buy breakfast. We had such a late night last night.” She covers her mouth as she yawns, causing his shirt to ride up and reveal the aqua lace thong she’s wearing.
She stayed the night. Half of her is wearing his clothes. The other half is naked. Do I really want Parker to stare me in the face while he tells me what’s so painfully clear already? “N-no. Sorry. I think I might have the wrong apartment.”
Turning on my heel, I sprint back the way I came. My world is falling down around me, but I hold it together. I won’t fall apart here.
“Hey,” she calls out as I step into the elevator. “Aren’t you...”
The doors close, cutting off the end of her question. I mentally build a box around my heart, much like the one I’m standing in. Keep it together. I need to hold myself together until I’m home, alone in my apartment. This pain; I have a feeling it’s going to crush me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Parker
Ever have one of those moments where you say something and five seconds later you realize it was the worst thing that could come out of your mouth? Like telling someone congratulations at a funeral or using the word bomb in an airport.
It took me longer than five seconds to work out how monumentally I’ve fucked up.
Even as I told the paps that Bree was nothing to me, I regretted it. It wasn’t what I wanted to say. I flirted with the idea of coming out on record; telling them that I had a girlfriend and was totally smitten. I wanted Bree by my side at the premier, her gorgeous smile and sexy body beside me, making our first appearance as a couple. It didn’t feel right that she wouldn’t be at such an important event.
But as much as I hated it, Brad had a point. A few more weeks wouldn’t break my relationship with Bree, but it could change the trajectory of my career if I let it slip too early. It would definitely put me out of the running for Sexiest Bad Boy of The Year. A few weeks and I’d shout Bree’s place in my life from the rooftops. We’d put out a press release announcing our relationship.
I should have told them she was my girlfriend. That’s what I should have done. What any decent man would have done. But I didn’t. I told them what they wanted to hear. I stuck with the damn script that Brad and I had decided would protect my career, my fucking brand. The minute I finished lying to them I knew it was the wrong thing to do.
As I drove Anabelle away from the restaurant I told myself it would be okay. Even with the sinking feeling in my gut. Bree would understand. I just needed to talk to her about it; something I should have done weeks ago.
Except it was too late to call Bree when we got back to my place, and Dutch was pulling up with my sister (they’d escaped out the back of the restaurant the moment Anabelle and I were swarmed by photographers). So I’d put it off. Instead I’d watched Dutch flirt with Anabelle and finally disappear into one of my spare rooms. I’d listened to Jeanie talk about her latest adventure to Thailand and found spots on my fridge for new magnets while trying to work out what had her out of sorts before falling asleep on the couch with my phone in my hand, Bree’s number on my screen.
Which is why I’m in this present situation. Standing outside Bree’s cubicle, which is empty, even though I woke up late enough that coming to see her at work had seemed like the only course of action I could take. The footage those bastards had taken when they bombarded us is already online. And trending. If by some miracle Bree hasn’t seen it yet, she will soon. The media can twist anything, but it’s unlikely they can make me look like a fucking saint.
“What are you doing here?” Tim asks from behind me, his voice less friendly than usual.
“Looking for Bree.” I glance around him, expecting her to be close by.
“She’s not here.” His whole body seems to scowl at me, his arms crossed against his chest. He doesn’t joke, or smile, or rib me like he usually does.
This is a Tim that doesn’t care one bit for me, and if he doesn’t then... Yeah, it took me this long to realize how fucking monumentally I screwed up. Shit. “Do you know where she is?”
“Nope.” Unfriendliness pulsates off him as he squares up to me. “And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“I have to talk to her,” I tell him. Something I should have had the guts to do instead of cancelling on her. If I’d just gone to see her last night, told her why I needed to keep our relationship quiet a little longer...If I can talk to her then I can fix this. “I need to tell her that—”
“I’d say it’s over,” he snaps.
“What’s over?”
“You and me, Parker. We’re over. This friendship.” He waves his pointer finger between us. “Is over.”<
br />
“Okay.” I take a step back. I wasn’t expecting a public break up between Tim and I, but that’s not my concern right now. “But I still need to talk to Bree.”
“She doesn’t want to see you. Your little whatever the hell game you were playing with my bestie is over too.”
“Bree doesn’t want to see me?” I rock back on my feet. We’re over?
“I don’t get you, man.” He shakes his head. “Bree is special. She’s sweet and bright and totally adorkable. If I were into women Bree would be the one. How can you let that go? Anabelle Peters must have some magical honeytrap.”
“Damn it, Bree knows there’s nothing between Anabelle and me.”
“You know what? It’s none of my business, and I have to go back to work. Bree saw the video this morning. I showed it to her.” He turns toward his cubicle and hesitates. “You know, it would have been bad enough if you’d said you were just friends. But I could have believed you had good intentions. But telling the whole world she’s nobody...” His jaw bunches and he glares daggers at me. “That was a low blow.”
“It was a mistake,” I try to explain. A huge fuck up that I would do anything to go back and change.
“If you say so.” Disbelief clouds his narrowed gaze.
“Tim, please. Where is she?”
He sneers at me as he disappears into his cubicle. “Last I heard from her she went to your apartment and Anabelle was there. That’s all I know.”
Well, fuck.
***
I pound on Bree’s door, my heart pounding right along with my fist. “Bree, if you’re in there, please open the door. I need to talk to you, to explain.”
There’s no sound coming from the apartment. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Sirius Black doesn’t even deign to meow at me.
I’m losing her. I’ve lost her. It hadn’t hit me straight away. It hadn’t hit me when Tim told me it was over. It’s sinking in now. With each unanswered knock, and each ignored message. She’s not even reading my texts. The little icon doesn’t move to tell me she’s seen them. She’s not answering her phone. It keeps going to voicemail.
