“Now it feels like I was probing or pushing for you to ask again.”
He kissed me, his tongue slipping into my mouth. We stayed like that for a while, our feelings doing the talking, until he broke free.
“You and me,” he repeated. “You can bring up anything you want. Anytime. It’s not probing. But now that we’re discussing living arrangements… I know it’s very caveman-like for me to expect you to move here. But I have to be in Hollywood, and you work remotely. Maybe my mom had foresight?”
“I thought you said not to discuss her?”
“Touché. I did. Anyway, I’d like you to think about it. You can go back and forth as needed, and we can make an office for you here. Or you can rent a place to work? Whatever you want…”
Ford rattled off what felt like a million suggestions for my moving, and with my heart pounding in my chest, I answered with, “I froze eggs.”
“First, is that a yes to moving? Second, why didn’t you say?” His palm slipped between us and rested above my heart. “Calm yourself, James. Your heart is going to catapult out of your gorgeous body. This is all good.”
Kissing his shoulder, my lips seeking solace on his salty skin, I thought for a moment. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure we were here. Here being talking about this. And now it feels like it’s so much more, and I’m scared.”
“We are here, James. We’ve been here, and there’s no reason to be scared. Calm yourself.” He kissed my temple, allowing his lips to linger, and I felt my pulse coming down.
“Okay,” was all I finally responded with.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll think about moving. After the gala.”
“I’ll take it. Later we can discuss your frozen eggs. First, I’m going to fuck you. Crass, but my body doesn’t know why I’ve been lying here for ten minutes without sliding inside you.”
“Slide away,” I told him, and while I knew my age said I was in my forties, my body certainly didn’t feel that way. Not when I was with Ford.
James
After finishing up for the day, I decided on a quick run before Ford arrived. The movie had wrapped production the day before, and he was going to handle postproduction calls from my place while I prepped for the gala. Shoving my feet in my shoes, I grabbed my headphones and slipped out my front door, only to find a limo waiting for me.Again. A chill ran up my spine despite the warm autumn day.
I thought about turning around and going back inside, but the limo door swung open and Beatrice Conway emerged. Decked out in an eggplant-colored boucle suit, she stood tall, waiting for me to make it all the way down the stairs. In my ratty Georgetown T-shirt and wild ponytail of curls, I felt like an Oompa Loompa approaching an evil witch. For a hot second, I remembered thinking Bella was a witch. Not surprising these two women were in cahoots—two witches and their cauldron of evil plans.
“Jamie,” she said as soon as I hit the bottom step.
“Beatrice.” I felt my left eyebrow raise and wondered what she could possibly want. She’d taken my job, tried to split us up, used a Hollywood starlet to do her dirty work. And she’d found herself an honoree at my event. It was only after buying two tables and making a sizable donation to the after party, but she’d wormed herself into the back pocket of the CEO of my organization. And for the second time in less than a year, I was beholden to her. Whoever invented the saying “Money Talks” knew what they were doing.
“I was wondering if we could speak for a moment?”
“I was about to go on a run. Is it quick?”
I didn’t know where the nerve came to talk to her like that, but I felt like a fireball—not the kind Ford referred to, but one with a short fuse.
“I was hoping we could go inside.”
I felt my head shaking. “No. You’re interrupting me…”
“And my son is on his way.”
I figured she’d know. After his little stunt with Hawaii, rather than allowing him to be the man he was, I imagined she kept stricter tabs on him. “You know, that’s ridiculous. He’s a grown man, Beatrice, capable of his own choices.”
“I’m aware. He’s let me know. Many times now. He also let me know how much this event means to him, and I’m here to say if it means something to him, then it means something to me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t believe this. Telling myself to not shout, I mentally reminded myself we were outside. “No, you don’t care that this means something to Ford. How do I know? Because it only means something to Ford because it means something to me. Bottom line, you don’t want to be embarrassed in front of the media.” My hand came to my hip, and I stared Beatrice Conway down.
“Well, that would not be good for anyone. This is your job…and your reputation and mine too…and Ford’s, with all the favors he’s done.”
“I understand the stakes. This is my job, thanks to you. I had a different job, and I was good at it.”
