Page 79 of Never Date a Celebrity

“Imogen,” Amelia said softly, like she was trying to tend to a wounded animal. “Please don’t shut me out over this.”

“I won’t.” Imogen squeezed her hand one last time and stood. “I just need to go for now. Okay? Only for now.”

“Okay,” Amelia replied helplessly. Because how could she argue? “But I’m going to hear from you soon?”

“Yes.” Imogen nodded like she was confirming it to both herself and Amelia. “I’ll be wanting to know you’re okay and everything. It’s just…” She hesitated, then leaned down and kissed Amelia softly. “You’ll hear from me. I promise.”

Then Amelia watched her go.

She slumped back on the bed and grimaced, clutching her ribs. Why the hell would anyone want to be famous?

“Is your friend away?” Bridget asked as she entered Amelia’s hospital room later that morning carrying a single cup of coffee. She handed it to Amelia, who must have looked surprised. “Oh, relax. It’s only a coffee. I would never drink that trash anyway. Might as well lap up a sewer.”

It was such a Bridget way of doing something nice—to slate it entirely and make it seem like Amelia was about to ingest some form of sludge.

Amelia took a sniff and confirmed that it smelled nothing like sewage. The gesture was kind even if the attitude was not. “Thanks,” she said sincerely before taking a sip of what turned out to be a perfectly acceptable drink. “And yes, to answer your question, Imogen’s gone. I take it you saw the picture.” Bridget tended to be a woman in the know. And as half the world already knew, Amelia assumed she would too.

“I did, and you’re welcome.” Bridget lifted her chin proudly.

Amelia frowned. She knew she’d had a concussion and all, but what was she missing? “I’m welcome for what?”

“The picture.”

“I’m not following. Was it you who forwarded it to me?” Amelia thought it was her sister. In fact, she knew it was her sister because it came with the message who the hell is your super-hot cuddle partner, and why have you not told me or Mom? Something didn’t add up.

“No. It was me who took it and shared it with the rest of the world.” Bridget held up a hand. “Not from my own accounts, mind you. That would have looked strange.”

Amelia stared at her in horror—so much so that Bridget even started to squirm. So that’s how the person got past Steve—it was Bridget. “Why the hell would you do that?” If Amelia’s torso didn’t hurt so bad she would have leapt out of bed and throttled her right there in the middle of the hospital.

“Well, someone had to give your relationship a little push.”

“A little push?” Amelia repeated, feeling more riled by the second. “There won’t be any relationship to push after this. Bridget! You’ve just ruined everything.”

“I don’t see it that way. Now that it’s all out in the open, she can’t hide. And she can’t run away either. Not without looking terrible after your big accident.” Bridget looked deeply pleased with herself. Smug, some might say.

Amelia lifted her good hand in irritation and let it flop back onto the bed. “Oh, so she’ll have to hang around out of necessity. Gee, that’s great, Bridget. I love dating women against their will.”

“You said you love her,” Bridget said defensively. “She was keeping you a secret. It wasn’t fair.”

“So you thought you would take the initiative and out my personal life to the world?” Amelia replied in exasperation. How had that ever seemed like a good thing to do?

Bridget stood firm. Indignant. “I was trying to help you.”

Amelia had never been more bewildered. Her eyebrows were likely touching her hairline by now. “Why? Why the hell would you want to help me?”

Bridget looked at her like she was stupid. “Eh, because you’re my best friend.”

“I’m your…what?” Okay, fuck bewildered, now Amelia was downright flabbergasted. Her jaw dropped and she stared at Bridget for a good ten seconds before asking the most obvious question. “How in hell am I your best friend? You’re rude to me ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time.”

“I am not.” Bridget looked quite offended that Amelia would say that. “I confide in you about everything.”

“Oh, come on. You only told me about Gabe because I told you about Imogen. Tit for tat you said.”

Bridget looked utterly confused. “I come to your trailer every day to say hi. We chat between takes. I try to give you encouragement during our scenes.”

Stunned, Amelia rolled that around in her head. Tried to break it down.

So, when Bridget barged into her trailer complaining about one thing or another, that wasn’t her throwing her weight around? That was her saying hi?