by B. Celeste
A pause.
“The answer is no.” His voice is hard, definite. I’ve never heard it that way before. “I know I made that clear before.”
Wood scraping on wood must mean he’s sitting down at the table. When I dare a peek, his head is in one of his hands. I want to walk in and comfort him, but I have no place.
He’s talking to his wife.
Arguing.
Because of me.
Nostrils twitching, I keep my back against the wall and stare at the floor. Wiggling my toes into the carpet, I loosen a quiet sigh and close my eyes.
Corbin’s voice breaks the silence. “Do what you have to do then if you’re insistent on dragging this out. I’m sorry, Len. I can’t keep doing this with you. We had an agreement. I thought we both— Don’t you think I get that? It isn’t like I wanted to hurt you and deep down I don’t think you ever wanted to hurt me. I know a lot of this is my fault, so I understand why you’re doing this. But it won’t change anything between us. If anything, releasing more of those photos will make us worse.”
My front teeth dig into my bottom lip. Photos? He sounds guilt-ridden, something I’ve come to know the sound of well. What does that say about me? About us? That we’re ruled by an emotion constantly enough that it can be identified so easily?
“I wish I could make this better,” he whispers, voice cracking. “But I know nothing can. Let’s be honest with each other, Lena. We’re wasting both of our time with this marriage. It shouldn’t be a charade to play with the public. This is our lives. It—”
The sound of something slamming against a hard surface causes me to jump, covering my mouth with my hand before I can yelp. Taking a deep breath, I peek around the corner and see Corbin’s fist against the table. His body is tight as his hand shakes where it rests.
“I guess that’s it then.”
My lips part.
“You’re not who I thought I loved.”
I frown.
His head dips down. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it should have been more. I accept my hand in what I’ve done to fail this marriage—fail you. But don’t act like you’re innocent, Lena. I know you better than that. We can both say we loved each other once upon a time, but it was never real.”
My heart breaks for him. One of my hands cups my stomach as I watch him clench his phone before loosening it in his hold. “Goodbye, Len. I’ll…”
The phone moves from his ear as he stares at the screen for a long moment before he shakes his head and sets it down. He scrubs both hands down his face and stays like that.
Slowly, I make my way into the room. I don’t bother with the lights, letting us stay in the darkness where we belong. When I sit down at the table, I reach over and pull his hands away from his face.
“I’m sorry,” he speaks softly.
I shake my head, holding his hand. “You don’t need to apologize to me. If anything, I should say I’m sorry for everything.”
His brows furrow. “Why?”
My tongue swipes across my chapped lips, embracing the sting that accompanies the subtle movement. “I knew what the circumstances were and didn’t stop. We both should have been rational, and we weren’t.”
“Don’t say you regret it.”
I shrug. “I regret hurting people.”
“And what about us?”
Considering my answer thoughtfully, I take a deep breath and look at our hands. “Your mom told me a long time ago that it’s not good to live with regret because it stops you from succeeding. I’ve never regretted us. Not even now. Not even when I should.”
“Mom is a smart woman.”
I smile at that. “Sometimes I think my family wonders why I don’t hate you. When I told them about the movie deal they were in disbelief but not as much as when I announced the casting.”
Mom just blinked at me and Dad grumbled under his breath. But it was Gavin who shook his head and told me it was a bad idea to see it being filmed. I wonder now if he was worried I’d find out the truth.
“I’ve thought about that too,” I admit, playing with the smattering of dark hair on his hand. “But I realize now that you must really love someone when you can’t even hate them for breaking your heart.”
He flips our hands and webs out fingers together, radiating his warmth into me. “Sounds like a line from your book.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Exactly.”
My lips twitch.
Corbin taps my hand with one of his fingers, getting me to glance up at him. His eyes leak the silver tone from them, filling the orbs with melted lead and something else.
Sadness.
My curiosity gets the better of me. “What pictures were you two talking about?”
The muscles in his jaw ticks. “I really don’t think that matters in the grand scheme of things, Little Bird.”
My brows furrow. “Why not?” In my mind, that must mean they matter too much. And I want to know why.
“Kinley—”
“Tell me, Corbin. Now.” I’m tired of him keeping secrets, whether in some twisted way it’s his way of protecting me or not, I still deserve to know.
His head drops down. “Lena hired somebody to take pictures of us on set. The stuff you’ve seen in the media is because of her.”
My lips part but nothing leaves them. I just blink and stare at him as he avoids my eyes, one of his hands scrubbing down his face as he shakes his head.
My conscience tells me, you deserve that.
But it doesn’t stop the rest of me from soaking in the shock of it all. Because his wife knew something was going on and led the press right to the story.
“Why?” I whisper. “If she wanted to keep her name clean, then why would she do that? I don’t…”
“This industry is dark,” he informs me, finally lifting his head to meet my gaze. “My wife pretends to be sweet, but she’s as corrupted as the rest of us. It’s blackmail, Kinley. The kind that we can’t afford to feed into.”
I’m not sure what to say to that.
“I know what we have to do, Little Bird.”
Drawing back, I swallow the creeping anxiety that rises up my throat. The way he says it tells me I need to be prepared. But prepared for what? When his lips part, I know.
“They’ll forgive us,” he tells me.
And he doesn’t need to say who.
The world.
One day … the world will forgive us.
Chapter Seventeen
Corbin / Present
Eddie: Are you sure about this?
Eddie: A press release of this magnitude isn’t going to keep your personal life out of the press. I’m not fucking magic.
Corbin: I’m sure.
Eddie: I sure hope you know what you’re doing because I’ve given up trying to figure it out.
I look over at Kinley, listening to her soft snores and thinking about how I could get used to this. And I can’t get used to it Lena’s way. So, there’s no hesitation or second thought.
Corbin: Lena will make this public regardless
Eddie: Warned you about her, son
Rolling my eyes, I recall the always watch out for the pretty ones talk he gave me when I showed him the ring—the ring that Lena hinted she liked multiple times. She’d always wanted this life, and I let her pull me in with the promise of a new start.
I didn’t need a fresh start.
I needed a do-over.
Eddie: You better get ready for hell. Kinley too
Corbin: Nobody can get ready for that
Eddie knows he can’t argue with me about the reality we’re about to face head on. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned best in this industry, it’s to take control of the situation. If we give that to Lena, I lose to a rumor mill that will bury Kinley and me six feet under before we get a chance to say a word.
I know that we deserve nothing less than the judgement we’ll receive. But it’s also plausible that we won’t be as bad off as Eddie assumes
. The outlets will eat up any statement we make and run with it in any way they can to make money. But that doesn’t have to break us.
The truth is, we aren’t the first couple to cause a stir in Hollywood, and we won’t be the last. It doesn’t matter what morals are thrown out the window to wreak havoc in the media. We’re human. We make mistakes.
And right now, I’m fixing them.
Eddie: I’ll get something drafted to send first thing in the morning. Kinley will need to look at it too since this involves her.
Eddie: This isn’t going to be easy
Corbin: It’s worth it
Eddie: What changed from before?
Kinley stirs, causing me to peel my eyes away from my phone. She rolls onto her back, the blanket revealing her stomach in the thin sleep shirt she wears. My hand gently rests on the bump, my chest tightening with emotion.
“Everything,” I whisper.
Focusing on the phone, I type out a quick reply and turn off the screen. I ignore the oncoming messages that follow because I don’t want to spend my night with Eddie.
I want to spend it with Kinley.
My little bird.
My little birds.
Laying down on my side facing the girl who’s plagued my mind since my first day at Lincoln, I stare at the bump where our baby grows. “I know you probably can’t hear me right now, but I promise not to mess up anymore. This is it for us. Your mom, you, me…” I swallow past the lump in my throat and whisper, “We’re a family.”
Kinley’s hand reaches out and finds mine, surprising me. Neither of us says a word when she moves my palm to her stomach and flattens it against her. Her hand stays on mine just like that until we fall asleep.
The press release draft arrives in my inbox as I’m cracking eggs into the frying pan. Trying to focus on the sizzling sound, rather than the statement that will speak a truth the public probably isn’t anticipating, is hard.
I only slept for a few hours before finding my way to Kinley’s office, so I didn’t wake her. Insomnia isn’t usually a problem I deal with since my long days shooting tend to wear me out by the time I get back to my condo or hotel, but the reality of our situation leaves me too uneasy to rest.
Finishing the scrambled eggs and toast, I plate both our breakfasts and search the cabinets for a tray to carry them upstairs with. Digging through the cupboard under the sink, I don’t expect to hear a voice directly behind me.
“What are you looking for?”
Slamming the back of my head against the cabinet as I veer back, I wince and stand up. Rubbing the tender spot, I turn to Kinley and note her sleepy expression. Her gaze drifts to steaming eggs, causing her lips to tug upward.
“I was making you breakfast in bed.”
Her nose scrunches.
“What is it?”
She shrugs, walking into the kitchen and examining the food closely. “I’m just not used to this, I guess.”
I move hair out of her face. “Nobody has made you breakfast in bed?”
The irrational part of me is happy over something so mundane. It means I get to be that man for her. But the other part feels bad that no other man has thought to do this.
She takes one of the plates and walks into the dining room. I follow her after grabbing two glasses and the orange juice. “Has Lena made you breakfast in bed?”
She has, but I don’t tell Kinley that.
Pouring us drinks, I walk back into the kitchen and put away the juice before grabbing my own plate. She’s moving her eggs around her plate with the fork, lost in her own world.
“What’s wrong, Little Bird?”
She stops fussing and grabs her drink to take a sip. I know her well enough to know that she’s stalling, so I wait. “This is just strange. We’ve never done this before. The whole…” Her lips twitch as she tries finding the right word. “I don’t know, the domestic thing.”
I chuckle and pick up my fork. “There’s a lot we haven’t done that I have every intention of doing with you.”
Her face turns red, making me laugh. In all honesty, I meant nothing dirty by it. But I can tell the thoughts running through her head are anything but clean. The side of her I’ve seen since coming here a week ago only cements the fact that we’ve grown up.
“Anyway,” she says, “it feels like we’re playing house. Does this feel real to you?”
Clearing my throat, I unlock my phone and slide it to her. “It’s about to. I spoke with my manager last night and he sent over a release for our approval. If it looks okay, then he’ll submit it to the proper channels. We’ll need to do at least one interview.”
Her lips part as she skims the email on my phone, shaking her head and pushing it away. She drops her fork onto the plate, the clink echoing in the otherwise quiet room. “No.”
My brows pinch. “I thought we—”
“We can’t do it like this,” she states, crossing her arms over her chest.
I look from my phone to her. “But we discussed it and you agreed. Something has to be done before Lena makes the first move, Kinley. We can’t wait.”
“Gavin announced he was engaged online before he told any of us,” she blurts.
I just blink.
Her shoulders drop as she sighs. “My parents were really upset to find out that way. I told myself any big news they hear would come from me first before it goes on social media. It’s bad enough I shut them out when I got home.”
“You had your reasons,” I reply quickly, understanding that she needed time. Telling her that I don’t tell my parents everything won’t help the situation. We’re two different people and the circumstances between our families aren’t the same.
“What exactly are you saying?” I ask slowly, knowing where this is going but needing the confirmation.
Her eyes stay locked on the plate. “I haven’t been a good daughter lately and that needs to change. Our parents need to hear this from us before the media gets ahold of it.”
Appetite wavering, I click my tongue.
“You know it’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m not the best decision maker when it comes to the right thing, Little Bird.” Her frown deepens, making me relent. “We’ll go as soon as you want to. But Eddie says if we’re going to do this, it needs to be soon.”
She picks up her fork and scrapes it around the plate before stabbing the eggs. “When do you need to go back to California? I’m sure you have plenty of work.”
The way she asks has my heart constricting. Does she think I’m going to walk out and that’s it? “Little Bird, look at me.”
She doesn’t.
Holding back a sigh, I push my plate away and stare at her despite her insistence to avoid my gaze. “We are not about to turn our lives upside down for nothing. Think about it, Kinley. How many people in our positions get these chances? Not many.”
“It’s not impossible—”
“Did you try reaching out?”
She presses her lips together.
“We both thought it was for the better,” I say, wishing it weren’t true. We could have been together, but those thoughts are pointless to have.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, picking at her toast. The butter melted into the bread seemingly has her transfixed.
“We’re here. We’re doing this.”
Her head picks up. “So…?”
Shoulders tight, I say, “We’ll go to Lincoln tomorrow and talk to our families. You’re right. They need to hear it from us first.”
I can tell she’s relieved, but the tight feeling in my chest only intensifies. Seeing Mom I can handle. Dad is an entirely different story.
Kinley must sense that. “We’ll get through this together. We don’t have any other choice at this point.”
Licking my lips, I nod once. “How much do you think your parents hate me? On a scale from one to ten?”
She rolls her eyes. “I think they had it out for you for a while, but they’re over it. You may not believe it,
but I do. The only people who haven’t moved on from us is … us.”
Sounds about right.
“And Gavin?” I press, knowing that will be trickier because of our sordid past. He’s made his feelings clear from the start. Regardless of the rift between he and Kinley, I doubt those feelings about me have changed. I’m sure they’ve become tenfold.
Her nostrils twitch in the tiniest way, but she sits up and gives me the best smile she can muster under the circumstances. “My mom said something when she came over that made a lot of sense. He’s my brother. We’ve both made mistakes, and I don’t want to ruin our relationship by staying mad. Especially not if I want him in our baby’s life.”
The Kinley Thomas I’ve always loved sits before me, her heart of gold always offering room for forgiveness. I never thought we’d be here even having a conversation that makes me fall in love with her even harder than I already am. And that’s when it’s cemented that we’ll survive even in the roughest storm. I find new ways to love her when I didn’t know loving her any more than I do was possible.
Like always, Kinley proves me wrong.
Chapter Eighteen
Kinley / 17
With some revisions, this book will sell, Kinley.
I try taking the news the best way I can, but knowing that I need to change what I’ve bled onto paper leaves me feeling anything but good. The full notebooks littering my bedroom have this story plotted exactly how I want it.
It’s raw.
But it’s real.
And Jamie wants me to change it.
“Kinley?” she says, snapping me out of it.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I hold my cell a little tighter. “Sorry, I’m here. What kind of changes exactly? I thought it was good…”
“It’s not a bad draft, Kinley,” she insists lightly, typing something on her keyboard. “The editor I spoke to is interested in looking it over again when the suggestions are taken into consideration. In fact, she thinks it’ll be a good fit for the company down the line if you just add something a little more to it.”
My jaw locks. I know I shouldn’t take it personally that somebody wants me to work on my book. This is only the second draft—lightly edited by me and revised when I reread it the first time around. But the story leaks a truth that I don’t want altered in any way.
