“We could deny it.”
“Denying it, hiding it once something like this comes out, is counterproductive. I’m not wasting energy maintaining a lie when they’re looking for it now. Digging for any sign that it may be true. That’s distracting, and I cannot afford a distracted, gossiping cast and crew.”
With a shrug, he glances at me from beneath an arch of dark brows. “Besides, maybe Camille did us a favor.” He reaches for my hand, twining our fingers. “I don’t particularly like hiding it. I guess I should have checked with you first.”
A smile toys with the corners of my mouth and I step closer. “I guess I’m fine with everyone knowing you’re into me.” I laugh when he rolls his eyes but grins. “So now what?”
“Now I’ve confirmed we’re together, and if they know what’s best for them, they deal with it and keep doing their jobs.”
“It sounds simple, and maybe it will be for you because you won’t have to put up with your colleagues thinking you didn’t get your job on merit.”
“Hey.” He lifts my chin, his gaze traveling down nearly a foot to meet mine. “What happened to ‘If they find out, I’ll prove myself’? ‘I’ll show them I can do the job.’”
A wry grin tips one side of my mouth. “I thought I was so big and bad. Everyone was staring at me tonight.”
“They were staring because they were wondering. We don’t make them wonder. I’m not saying we flaunt it, but we don’t hide anymore. It’ll be old hat soon and they’ll think of us like any other couple who—”
“Are we?” A feather tickles the lining of my belly. “A couple, I mean?”
He caresses the ink along my thumb. “What’d you think this was?”
We haven’t put much language to what’s been going on between us. For me, I don’t care what we call it. I’m just glad it’s happening.
“Well, you did practically drag me out of the production team meeting by the hair,” I say, allowing a teasing note into my voice.
“I didn’t.”
“I mean… it was a little growly, mine, claim-y.”
“Do you want to be someone else’s?” he asks softly, drawing me to him in inches until the tips of our toes touch and I’m too close to see or smell or consider anyone but the man in front of me.
“No.” I don’t smile or make light of it or try to hide the certainty in my eyes. I want this. I want him, and if I have to endure some speculation, well, dammit, I’ll do what I said. I’ll prove I deserve this job. I’ll keep earning their trust.
“Good,” he says, opening the passenger door of his car. “Then let’s get you home.”
FORTY-FIVE
Canon
It never ends.
The list of things that needs to be done marches through my head, an infinite line of tasks and meetings as we prepare to shoot on location. This drama with Camille today? Last damn thing I needed. Everything I thought would happen if I got involved with Neevah is happening exactly as I predicted.
And yet…
Glancing over at her, curled up and asleep in my passenger seat on the way to her place, I don’t regret it. I don’t regret kissing her on Thanksgiving. I don’t regret our time away in Santa Barbara. I don’t regret starting a relationship with her, because it’s like nothing I’ve had before. I hate the chaos Camille’s interview could potentially create, but Neevah is the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Today, when faced with the consequences of our actions, I had to admit that to myself. In spite of all the trouble this could cause, I can’t regrether.
Of course, my phone has been ringing nonstop. Neevah nodded off almost immediately and has been that way for the forty-minute drive to her rental in Studio City. It’s not far from the lot, but this is LA, so everywhere you go becomes a hump. I have one more call to make before I can rest for an hour or so. Maybe we can have a quick meal before I go home and prepare for tomorrow.
I use one earphone to make this last call so the speakerphone won’t disturb Neevah’s sleep.
“Canon, hey,” Verity answers on the first ring. “I wasn’t sure if our call was still on.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I told you I’d call to talk through the script revisions. They’re minor, but I want to give the cast plenty of time to learn the new lines before we reach those scenes.”
“Yeah, but you’ve had quite the eventful day, breaking the internet and whatnot,” Verity says, her voice curious and cautious.
“I didn’t break the Internet. Camille did, and every day for the last three months has been eventful,” I answer stiffly. “We’re shooting one of the biggest biopics of the last decade, so things get busy. You got a point?”
