Page 39 of On The Edge

I nod and clear my throat.

Cruz stares at me, his expression softening before he puts an arm around me and pulls me against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and leaves his lips there, his breath heating my scalp, as he says, “I got you into this mess, Madds. I’ll try to shield you from it as much as possible but even I’m not that much of a miracle worker.”

And as much as the idea appeals to me—him shielding me—I know I can’t let him. I know this is what I agreed to do. I now realize why Kevin had originally selected actresses to play the part. Somebody who wants the limelight and their name out there. Not me.

“No. I said it’s fine.”

“Says every woman ever when she’s nowhere near fine. In fact, usually that means you’re pissed. So be pissed. Be angry. You didn’t ask for this and yet here you are.” He meets my gaze, but I can see the regret in his eyes. There’s the slightest glimpse of the man from the break room that first day. The off-Cruz. The real Cruz.

God, was that only days ago? It feels like a lifetime since then.

“Here’s the deal,” he says, leaving his hand on my arm but turning so we face each other. “We take our own steps in announcing us. In posting about us. Right now everything out there is assumption. But if we post ourselves then we steal any and all thunder. That allows us to control the narrative as much as possible.”

“Yeah, okay. Agreed.” Control the narrative that already feels like it’s spinning out of control.

At least on my side of the world it is.

“You sure?” He leans down so our gazes are level and lifts his eyebrows.

“It’s not like I can be anything other than, right?”

He presses a brotherly kiss to my forehead. “I’ll take care of you, Madds.” He moves an arm around my shoulder and steers us toward where we left the car. “Let’s head back to the hotel. We can figure out which photos to post and take some control back.”

Minutes later, we’re in the car. I’m still processing—part shaming myself for being so naive, but also acknowledging that Cruz wasn’t a total dick about it.

Once in our room, we scroll through our photos of the day and decide what to post. A few images but no captions. Let the photos speak for themselves.

And then with a deep breath, we both publish our complementary posts and become Instagram official.

Tessa will be pissed over this. No doubt her texts will be coming fast and furious later. But this is my job. It’s what I have to do. When I’m finally able to explain it all to her, I know she’ll forgive me.

Of course, by the time night falls, when we head out to eat dinner, word has spread. If the paparazzi following us to the restaurant is any indication, the news about us has hit.

Cameras blind us as we leave the restaurant and get in the car. The term fishbowl suddenly feels very real when it used to be something I thought was said for dramatics.

“It’s okay,” Cruz says, reaching out and squeezing my knee in reassurance. He leaves his hand there for effect, no doubt since cameras continue to flash through the heavily tinted windows of the town car we had drive us here.

I exhale a slow, steady breath as a response.

“Talk to me, Madds. What is it that’s the most troubling about all of this for you? If I could fix one thing, what would it be?”

I turn to look at Cruz in the darkened light of the car. As we move through the city, shadows move over his face, but his eyes are steadfast on me.

His question surprises me. It’s not something I expect to come out of Cruz Navarro’s mouth. He’s labeled as selfish and self-centered. As not caring for what others think. But his question, his offer, says he’s anything but that.

Maybe the label he’s often branded is wrong. Or maybe I just feel so alone in all this, he’s the only one I have to turn to. The only person I can be honest with. And that’s an extremely humbling thought.

“I have no control over any of this. What they post about me. What they say about me. What they assume about me.” The admission is hard, but true.

“All we can control is this. Is us. Is being stuck together, right?” His grin is fast and wicked when it flashes over his face. “I know just what you need right now. Do you trust me?”

Lord help me.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cruz