“Good thing you’re married. You are incredibly unsmooth with women.”
“Hey.” Courteney curled herself around his waist. “You hurt the little geek boy inside him when you say that,” she teased.
Xander rolled his eyes and put his arm around her, steering her away. Apparently, he was a geek in high school; I had a hard time picturing it.
“We love you!” she tossed over his shoulder.
“Love you guys,” I tossed back, giving Xander’s bodyguard, Lucas, a little wave.
As I watched the three of them make their way through the lounge, I spotted Johnny and Lamar and my insides coiled tight. Xander gave Johnny a fist bump as they passed. Johnny then looked right at me and when our eyes met, my heart thumped. My whole body warmed. Nerves, adrenaline and anticipation. Pretty much the way I felt every time I saw him lately, but now it was tinged with something else. Pain, for him. And a restless anxiousness, a fear that maybe he was going to pull away from me, completely.
That I’d find him wrecked at some bar again dripping with women, or worse.
That maybe this time I wouldn’t find him until afterwards, when the full damage was already done.
Could I forgive him?
Would I even want to?
These questions spun through my mind as he walked over to me, looking apologetic.
“Angeline, I’m sorry. I just fucking realized how late I am.”
I got to my feet and he kissed me. “Our table should be ready. They’ve been waiting for us.” Our waitress circled by, noticing the blond god who’d just strolled in with the giant bodyguard right behind him.
She seated us in a corner of the restaurant at a fairly private table, where I hoped we’d be safe from autograph seekers, while Lamar hung out at the bar.
“So, where were you?” I asked him as soon as we’d gotten settled and put in our drink order. My third, and I told myself it should really be my last. I didn’t want to get all boozy and emotional if things went sour tonight. I really wasn’t sure where we were at, or wherehewas at, since the last week he’d been so busy… meeting up with his friends, spending time with Rory, and hardly home or around me at all.
He’d even been coming home late and slipping into his bed—where I’d wait for him every night—to sleep with me without instigating sex. It felt strange, since we were so early in our relationship and we’d been so hot and heavy up until the day he’d told me about his painful past.
He met my eyes, and I could feel his hesitation about whatever he was about to tell me. “I was with Amber. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
“Why would it bother me?” It was an automatic response, defensive. But… I really wasn’t sure if it should bother me or not. Amber was pretty, she’d won over the likes of Dylan Cope, and she was once married to Johnny. I couldn’t say I had no reason whatsoever to be bothered, considering I’d seen him with two women wrapped around him several nights ago.
“I just needed to talk to her. To apologize about how I treated her in the past. That’s all.”
“Oh. Well, how did she take that?”
“Really well.”
I considered that. “How did you treat her in the past?”
Before he could answer that, a couple of waitresses, not ours, came up to the table. “Excuse us! Hi! Johnny… I’m Cleo, this is Elaina. Could we please get a picture?” The taller waitress was talking to Johnny, in a rush, like she wanted to do this quickly, before she got in trouble for it. She already had her phone in-hand.
I knew what this was. It happened all the time with Elle, even with staff who should be expected to behave better.Fans.Fans who’d knock down their own grandmother to get a selfie with a celebrity they admired. They’d probably steal the cutlery after we left, because Johnny licked it.
My sister had a hell of a lot of these fans.
Johnny glanced at me. I just rolled my eyes and waved him on. I could see Lamar getting off his barstool and heading over already.
“I’ll take a photo for you,” I told her, putting out my hand for her phone.
“Oh. Thanks.” She handed me the phone, like she’d just noticed me sitting here.
The girls leaned in on either side of Johnny and smiled prettily. He gave the camera a practiced look, an expression that looked nothing like the Johnny I knew. This was Johnny O, rock star. Gorgeous and composed, sly and utterly unknowable. A fiction. A fantasy.
I took a few pics, then shoved the phone back at the waitress. “Thank you!” she said, her eyes glued to her phone while the other girl shook Johnny’s hand.
