by Jae
Grace suppressed a smile. For some reason, it pleased her immensely that Lauren still found her beautiful, despite the cast, the cuts, and the bruises.
Lauren returned and slid the chair closer to the bed. She looked at Grace with a serious expression. Shadows lurked beneath her eyes, indicating that she hadn’t slept much.
“How bad is it?” Grace asked.
Lauren hesitated.
“The truth. Please, Lauren, tell me. I need to know.”
“All right. As you can imagine, you’re gracing the cover of every single gossip rag in Northern America.”
“Probably in Europe too,” Grace muttered.
“Probably. Most of them are on your side, though.”
Grace shook her head. “I never wanted there to be sides.”
“Hollywood’s golden couple is going through a divorce, and there’s a new girlfriend and a baby already on the way—of course the press will take sides and not report the boring ‘amicable separation’ angle.”
A sigh escaped Grace. Maybe she’d been naive thinking she could get the press to not make a media spectacle of her divorce. “Sometimes, I think it wasn’t one of my better ideas to file for divorce. At least not right now.”
“Why did you?” Lauren asked. “I mean…you must have known that with the release of Ava’s Heart, this would be the worst possible time to go through divorce proceedings. Why not wait?”
“I waited too long already,” Grace said, surprising herself by answering honestly. “When Jill told me about her diagnosis earlier this year, it really got me thinking. What if I were in Jill’s shoes? What if I were diagnosed with an incurable disease? It occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to look back at my life and say that I have no regrets. I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking through life the last few years, and Jill’s diagnosis gave me the much-needed wake-up call.”
“So you haven’t been happy with Nick for quite some time?” Lauren said, making it sound like a question.
“I wasn’t exactly unhappy. I made millions with my acting, lived in a house that most people could just dream of, had a handsome husband… I should have been ecstatically happy.”
“But you weren’t,” Lauren said for her.
Grace shook her head. Her mother had asked her repeatedly why she wasn’t happy with Nick and what they had, but she’d never been able to answer the question. Something had been missing. Sure, she loved Nick, but it had never been the all-consuming, head-over-heels, butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of love the characters in her movies got to experience. “Once I realized that, I told Nick that we needed to take a break.”
Lauren leaned forward, her full attention on Grace. “How did he take that? Did he try to get you to change your mind?”
“No.” Grace had expected a fight, but Nick had made it easy for her. “He was angry and confused, but I don’t think I shattered his heart into a million little pieces. When I suggested some time apart to think, he looked at me and said, ‘After three years together, what’s there to think about? You either want to be married to me or you don’t.’ And I realized that I didn’t. I just needed a little push to take that last step and file for divorce.”
Grace leaned back in the hospital bed. Wow. She’d never talked so openly to anyone, not even her mother or Jill. She peered at Lauren, who looked back at her with an open, nonjudgmental expression.
“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing, even if the timing wasn’t ideal,” Lauren said. “You deserve to be happy.”
“Thank you,” Grace murmured. “I haven’t figured out yet what would truly make me happy.”
“You will.”
Grace trailed invisible patterns with her fingertips on top of the hospital covers. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Did you ever find that all-consuming, head-over-heels, butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of happiness in a relationship?”
Not looking at Grace, Lauren shook her head. “I can’t seem to find a woman who’s more important to me than my job.”
Somehow that made Grace sad. She wanted Lauren to be happy in all aspects of her life, not just in her job. “Do you love your job that much?”
“Not everything about it, but yeah, I like it,” Lauren said, now looking at her. “And it’s what I’m good at. It’s what I grew up doing.”
Grace gave her a puzzled look. “How does anyone grow up in PR?”
“Easy. My parents always had a weird kind of on-again, off-again relationship. Both of them had numerous affairs over the years, not bothering to hide them, but unlike you, neither filed for divorce. To the public, they always presented the image of the happily married Hollywood power couple. I learned early on to play the game and cover their messes.”
No wonder Lauren wanted to stay away from a relationship with anyone in show business. “I’m sorry you had to—”
A knock on the door intruded.
“Come in,” Grace called, even though she didn’t feel up to more visitors. She would have preferred to stay alone with Lauren and continue to talk.
Nick entered and closed the door behind him. He trudged over to the bed, looking worse than Grace felt. “How are you?” he asked.
“I’m okay, considering.”
“That’s good to hear.” He smiled at her, but it seemed forced.
“How are you doing?” Grace asked.
Nick’s face darkened. “How would you be doing if you were painted like a monster?” He looked from Grace to Lauren and then back. “This is hurting my career—and my relationship. Everyone thinks I’ve been cheating on you.”
“Well, what else are they supposed to think?” Lauren said. “You’re having a baby with your new girlfriend before the divorce has gone through.”
Nick glared down at her. “Grace isn’t paying you to judge me. She’s paying you to—”
“Please, Nick.” Grace pressed her good hand to her forehead. Her temples were pounding. “I can’t take this right now. Let’s talk calmly.”
“Easy for you to say.” Nick wrapped his hands around the bed railing as if he wanted to strangle it. “You can afford to stay calm. This isn’t messing with your public image. People automatically assume that I’m the bad guy, especially now that you got hurt.”
The pounding in Grace’s head increased.
Lauren stood and leaned over Grace, her hazel eyes big and worried. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call a nurse?”
“No. I’m fine. Just incredibly tired.”
“Close your eyes and go to sleep. We can talk about this later.” Lauren’s voice was soft, not like the voice of a tough PR specialist. She straightened and turned toward Nick. “I’ll prepare a joint statement, but for now, Grace needs to rest.”
Nick didn’t look happy to be practically kicked out, but he walked around the bed and touched Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Get some rest.” He strode to the door without looking back.
“Maybe you should follow him and help him handle the paparazzi,” Grace said halfheartedly. “I bet they’re waiting outside.”
“I’m your publicist, not his. Or do you want me to go?”
“No.” That was the last thing Grace wanted. Drowsiness swept over her, but she fought against her exhaustion and tried to keep her eyes open, not wanting Lauren to leave. The painkillers they’d given her made any attempt to think feel like wading through molasses.
“Close your eyes,” Lauren said. “You need to rest.”
“Will you stay?” Grace hated sounding so needy, but she couldn’t help it.
“Of course.” Lauren perched on the edge of the bed. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand and smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen onto Grace’s face. Her fingers trailed over Grace’s cheek on the unhurt s
ide.
At the tender touch, Grace’s eyes fluttered shut. “Don’t stop,” she mumbled. Seconds later, she drifted off to sleep.
Long after Grace’s peaceful breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep, Lauren sat on the edge of the bed and softly caressed Grace’s golden-blonde hair. She took in every detail of Grace’s face—the lashes resting against the soft cheeks, the sculpted cheekbones, the full lips, the downy hair near her temple, where tiny cuts marred her otherwise flawless skin.
Oh God. Lauren trembled at the thought of how close she’d come to losing Grace. Losing her? Who do you think you are—her lover? You’re friends at best. But no amount of reason could change the way she felt, as crazy as it was.
The door opened, and Mrs. Duvenbeck swept into the room. “Thank God the paparazzi are—” She stopped in the middle of the room when she saw Lauren sitting next to her daughter.
Lauren suddenly became aware that her hand was still resting along the unhurt side of Grace’s face, cradling it gently.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Duvenbeck glared at her like a chaperone intent on protecting her charge’s virtue.
Careful not to wake Grace, Lauren took her hand away and got up from the bed. “I’m just providing some comfort, like any decent human being would.”
“She’s asleep. She doesn’t even know you’re here.”
Grace moved restlessly in her sleep, her good hand trailing over the bed as if searching for something.
“She said she wanted me to stay.”
Mrs. Duvenbeck took up position between Lauren and the bed. “I doubt she wanted you to touch her face while she sleeps.”
Don’t stop. Grace’s whispered words echoed through Lauren’s mind. Yes, Grace had wanted her touch. Was she just seeking some comfort from whatever source was available, or was there more to it? She shook her head at herself, knowing nothing good would come out of thinking like this. “What did you say about the paparazzi when you came in?”
“A few are still lurking in front of the hospital, but most retreated, and they didn’t try to follow me in.”
Lauren nodded grimly. “Good.” So her none-too-subtle threats had worked. She’d been on the phone all morning, calling every magazine, blogger, reporter, and paparazzi she knew and telling them she’d make sure Grace would sue their sorry asses if they didn’t back off after the accident they’d caused.
Under Mrs. Duvenbeck’s watchful gaze, she packed up her laptop, walked to the door, and stopped to look back at Grace. She’d promised her to stay, but now she couldn’t. Being close to Grace short-circuited every last bit of reason, especially now that her emotions ran so close to the surface. What she needed was more distance until she could be her professional self around Grace again. “Tell Grace I had to go.”
After one last glance back, she fled.
CHAPTER 23
Lauren had spent the last two days at the office, only making it home to fall into bed and sleep for a few hours. She had e-mailed Grace and Nick the joint statement, assuring the press and the public that it had been an amicable separation long before Shailene had come into the picture and that they still had the deepest respect for each other and would remain friends.
Instead of Grace, her mother had responded to Lauren’s e-mail, approving the press release. Even though Lauren missed Grace, she was secretly glad that she didn’t yet have to deal with her. She hadn’t seen her since Mrs. Duvenbeck had caught her caressing Grace’s face, but Jill kept her up to date, so she knew Grace was home from the hospital and on the mend. Her heart ached with the longing to see for herself that Grace was fine, but she’d prescribed herself some distance. Maybe if she stayed away for a while, her attraction would die down.
The problem was just that getting away from Grace was impossible at the moment. She couldn’t go anywhere without having Grace’s face and those incredibly blue eyes staring back at her—and it wasn’t just all in her imagination. Every time she opened Twitter, Facebook, or one of the celebrity blogs, Grace was there.
After work, she fled to the fitness center on the ground floor of the office building and pounded out her frustration on the treadmill. When she looked up, her gaze landed on a billboard across the street.
It was a giant movie poster of Ava’s Heart, showing Grace on the veranda of the farmhouse, her face bathed in the orange glow of sunset.
Lauren’s steps faltered. She almost fell off the treadmill, catching herself at the last moment. Jesus! For the rest of her workout, she forced herself to keep her head down and not look at the billboard again, as tempting as it was.
She ignored the movie poster too when she drove by it on the way home. Not that it did her any good. Grace’s face seemed to be plastered on every damn billboard in the city.
Lauren stopped at a supermarket to get milk and some other essentials for her bare fridge. She would just hole up at home with a bottle of wine and her laptop, maybe get some writing done—anything but think of Grace and how she might be doing.
Determined, she steered toward the checkout line. Her gaze veered around while she waited and landed on the magazine display to her left. Damn. She clutched the cart with both hands. Several racks were filled with tabloids, all of the covers featuring Grace’s picture. Lauren lifted one of the magazines from the rack and read the captions beneath Grace’s photo. Twins for Nick—heartbroken Grace is being treated for depression. With a snort of disgust, she threw the tabloid back.
Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. The name of the woman she’d been trying not to think of flashed across the display. Lauren knew she couldn’t avoid Grace—or her growing feelings for her—forever. She was still her publicist, after all. “Hi, Grace,” she said into the phone. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Grace said.
It didn’t sound like the warm-hearted woman Lauren had gotten to know during the past months. It sounded like the polite actress everyone else knew. Maybe Lauren should have been glad that Grace was putting some distance between them too, but all she felt was hurt.
“Can we talk?” Grace asked.
Fear clutched Lauren. Had Grace guessed her feelings and was now uncomfortable around her? Had Grace’s mother told her about finding Lauren touching her face as a way to turn Grace against her? Was she about to fire her? She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Uh, sure. Now?”
“If that’s a good time for you.”
Lauren squared her shoulders. Better get it over with. “Now is fine. Do you want me to come over?”
“That would be nice,” Grace said. “I’ve been cleared to drive, but to tell you the truth, I’m not too eager to get into a car again.”
That sounded more like the Grace she knew—the one who trusted Lauren and talked openly to her. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Leaving her cart behind, she squeezed past the people in the checkout line and headed to her car.
To Lauren’s relief, only Grace’s car was in the driveway when she arrived at the mansion. At least she didn’t have to deal with Mrs. Duvenbeck on top of everything else. But then again, it meant she’d be alone with Grace. She climbed the stairs to the front door like a woman on her way to the gallows. Ridiculous. Just act like a professional, and everything will be fine.
But when Grace opened the door, every last professional thought disappeared from her mind in an instant. Grace was wearing Lauren’s Boston University sweatshirt—the one she’d borrowed and never returned. Lauren had never considered that old thing sexy, but on Grace, it took her breath away. Somehow, having Grace wear her clothes was an unexpectedly strong aphrodisiac.
They stood rooted to the spot, regarding each other across the doorway.
Grace seemed to realize what had caught Lauren’s attention. She tugged on the sweatshirt’s sleeve with her good hand. “Sorry. I me
ant to give it back a long time ago, but I forgot. It’s one of the few things I found that fits well over the cast.”
Lauren finally managed to gather enough of her wits to say, “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” That was the understatement of the century.
She followed Grace into the house. A couple of moving boxes stood in the corner of the living room, one of them still open. “You’re moving out? Now?” Grace had been out of the hospital for barely two days.
Grace nodded. “I figured I might as well go ahead and do it now. At least then Nick and Shailene will have enough time to settle in and get the nursery done before the baby comes.”
Wow. Lauren studied her closely. Was there really not the slightest bit of resentment or envy, now that Nick was having a baby and building a home with another woman?
“You can say it.”
“Say what?”
“How stupid I am to just give him the multi-million-dollar mansion. My mother already told me so at least half a dozen times.”
Lauren shook her head. “I don’t think that. This”—she pointed at the modern furniture and the sterile living room—“just isn’t you. I think you’ll feel much more at home in the cottage.”
Grace’s eyes warmed. “Finally someone gets it.”
Great. Another bonding moment. Instead of pulling back, Lauren felt herself drawn closer and closer. “Just be careful with your arm. Packing moving boxes can’t be good for it.”
“I’m not lugging around boxes, just putting some stuff in with my good hand. Jill will come over sometime this week to help me transport the boxes.”
Lauren opened her mouth to offer her help but then snapped it shut. Distance, remember? “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah, I…” Grace gestured at the couch. “Why don’t we sit?”
