Beside me, Cash grumbles.
“Shhh.” He steals my pillow and pulls it over his head.
The pounding stops, but it’s followed by a much worse sound: the beep of the door unlocking. Did I not flip the privacy lock last night? I must’ve forgotten, too distracted by the drunk man who stole my bed.
I raise my head to see who the intruder is—though I have a pretty good idea—just as Paula yanks the blankets off us. I shiver, my flannel doing little to ward off the chill of the air conditioning.
“What’s going on in here?” Paula screeches. She’s hitting notes I wouldn’t dream of, and giving me a headache. “Cash! What is this?”
I rub at my eyes and sit up. She waves an iPad frantically. Not that Cash can see it—his head is still buried under my pillow.
“Me and Prince Charming,” he mumbles without looking. “Or maybe just another frog. It’s too soon to tell, really.”
Paula’s face goes red. “This isn’t funny, Cash.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.” He finally lifts the pillow off his head, squinting in the bright light. “Morning, Paula. You’re looking lovely today.”
“Don’t.” She shoves the iPad at him. “Look at this.Lookat it.”
Cash takes it, blinking at the screen. I look over his shoulder at the headline, big and bold on some gossip site.
CASH WALKER SPOTTED KISSING MYSTERY MAN
Below it, a grainy photo taken from a distance, but clear enough. Cash outside what looks like a bar, kissing someone. A man wearing a baseball cap, his face mostly obscured.
I’m not exactly surprised. The control, the secrets, the way they manage every aspect of his life.
Something moves across Cash’s face that I can’t quite name.
I rub his shoulder. “You okay?”
He nods just as Paula snatches the iPad back. “Do you haveanyidea what you’ve done?”
Cash runs a hand through his hair. “You said when I was ready, you’d handle it. Well, surprise,I’mready.”
The indignation on Paula’s face tells me she was hoping he’d never be ready.
“I didn’t think I’d be cleaning up cheating accusations at the same time.” She tucks the iPad under her arm with a huff, then stomps toward the door.
Cash stands, surprisingly steady on his feet for how drunk he was a few hours ago. “That’s why we’ll announce the whole thing was fake. Technically, we never confirmed it, so—” He shrugs.
That stops Paula in her tracks. She pivots and glares at Cash before her gaze cuts to me. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
“What? No, of course not.” I shuffle up the bed.
“She didn’t.” Cash squares his shoulders, but his hands tremble at his side. He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding that breath for years. Maybe he has. “Idid.”
Paula’s face turns a shade redder. I wouldn’t be shocked if steam came out of her ears. She marches out, mumbling, and the only thing I catch is “unbelievable” before the door slams behind her.
Cash falls back on the bed with a groan, his head flopping toward me. “Fuck a smoothie, I need about a pound of bacon.”
“Told you so.” I curl into bed, facing him.
His eyes close, his arms folded up with his hands tucked beneath his cheek.
I think about what it costs a person to hide the truest part of themselves. The weight of carrying it alone.
“You could’ve told me, you know,” I whisper.
