“I got caught in a meeting. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be home by the time you get there.”
“Okay. Love you.” I saw Samantha coming back from the bathroom as I hung up. “What’s the surprise this time?”
Samantha took a seat. “What surprise?”
“Come on. You plot these things with him all the time.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’remymanager!”
“Sorry. He made me swear. My lips are sealed.” She nodded forward. “Security is here. Let’s go.”
Escorted by airport security and a personal host who dragged my suitcase, I hurried behind Samantha through the exclusive terminal, my backpack on my shoulder, fixing my jacket. It was cold this time of the year with the holidays approaching. Once we passed the secure and private gated LAX exit, we were confronted curbside by aggressive paparazzi.
Since the press caught my first public kiss with Mike—at the wrapping party ofBlack Sheep—dealing with relentless photographers and people asking for my autograph was the norm.
I had no idea how Mike had been doing this so effortlessly for sixteen years. Or was it hard for him, too, and he was hiding it well from me? Just like whenever there was anything troubling him. He still saw me as a kid. Someone to love and protect. It was cute. Warm. Assuring. But I wished he’d have shared more. Given me a chance to help him like he always did with me. Or, at least, let me try.
I was asked questions on top of questions about my latest movie with Callahan, and shooting in Ireland, and how it felt working thousands of miles away from Mike. The truth was it sucked to the bones. So cold, and not only because of the weather. I missed him so fucking much. Yet again, what did I expect? He’d go to Ireland with me and do nothing but wait for me to come home exhausted every night? Besides, he had one last cheesy movie to make. Andrea’s parting gift.
I posed and smiled for a couple of photos before a black BMW pulled over by the curb. The personal host put the suitcase in the trunk and opened the door for me.
As I got in the backseat, Samantha ducked her head inside and winked at me. “Enjoy.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No. See you next year. Happy holidays.” Samantha smiled and shut the door.
What the—
“Would you like something to drink, Ms. Dawson?”
My head jerked toward the driver, and my skin prickled with goosebumps. “Motherfucker.”
Mike took his chauffeur cap and sunglasses off, his beautiful curls long again. “Missed your potty mouth.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” He laughed. “But I sure missed you.”
A year or so ago, we had a similar conversation. Little did I know that when he’d said he missed me then he’d meant it the same way he did now. Little did I know that I would be sitting here a year later, an award-winning director and this gorgeous man’s epic love.
I hopped to the front seat and placed my hands on either side of his face, pulling him into a passionate kiss. God, I missed those lips, that scruff…
“Amore, we’re gonna crash.” He laughed against my mouth.
I slid closer, pressing my head onto his chest, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm to my soul. Here I belonged. The right place to be. “I missed you, too. So much.”
He kissed my hair and draped his arm around my shoulders, pressing me even tighter to his body. “I should’ve come with you.”
“Yes. You should have,” I said. “I know it was Andrea’s parting gift and had extra money in it, but she doesn’t deserve a gift, and you don’t need extra money. You’re a fucking millionaire.” I shrugged. “But at least, it worked. Andrea has finally kept her distance since.”
His stomach vibrated with a chuckle. “I bought you a gift with that extra money.”
I lifted my head, but he pushed it back to him. “I can’t believe you right now. You bought me a five-million-dollar gift?” I squeaked. “What did you buy this time? An island?”
When he didn’t answer right away, I glanced up at his face. “Oh my God, Mike. You did buy a fucking island!”
