Courting Trouble (Reality Romance Book 5) (22 page)

She swiped at her face, brushing away the hot moisture stupidly clinging to her cheeks, and grabbed for her phone.

Adam picked up on the second ring. “Elena?”

Her relief at hearing his voice was so acute for a moment all she could get out was, “Hey.”

“You okay? Your note didn’t say much.”

She couldn’t even remember what she’d written. Something about having an errand she needed to run. “I’m in New Mexico.”

“Is your family okay?” Instant concern.

“I talked to them.”

A speaking pause. “Are you okay?” The concern deepened.

She swallowed around the thick block of tears, missing him hard, wanting his arms around her. “It was bad.”

The floodgates to all the emotion she’d been holding back opened. Months of frustration and hurt all rushing out at once. All that feeling had been kept at bay by her powerful ability to rationalize. They weren’t cutting her off, it was just a really busy time for them. She’d changed her number, perhaps they lost the paper they’d written it on or spilled wine on it so one of the numbers smudged. It wasn’t that they were trying to disown her, they just needed some space to process in their own way. They still loved her.

For months she’d told herself those stories. She’d known they were pipe dreams, but you could make yourself believe anything if you wanted to badly enough.

The confirmation that they really didn’t want people to know she was their daughter, that her father had intentionally thrown away his one way of contacting her, that her mother had watched him do it—that knowledge broke through her carefully constructed illusions, shattering them into jagged shards waiting to cut her with her own determined naiveté.

And it all came out in a babbling rush over the phone.

“Do you want me to come get you?” Adam asked softly when she wound down.

“In New Mexico?” Her laugh wobbled. “Does Max have a private jet I don’t know about?”

“Knowing Max he might, but I was thinking of more the everyman approach of booking the next flight.”

“No. No, I’m okay now. I’m glad I talked to them. And knowing they don’t—”
don’t love me anymore, don’t want me anymore… “—
don’t have anything to say to me hurt, but I’m glad I know the truth. In the long run, this is better than stretching out the not-knowing and the fantasy hope for years. I said what I needed to say. And now I’m coming home.”

“Don’t drive when you’re upset,” he cautioned and she smiled at the worry in his voice. He cared. Even when no one else did.

“I won’t. And I promise to stop for the night before I get tired. I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay? You’ll be there when I get back?”

“Always.”

She said goodbye to him and tossed her cell phone onto the passenger seat, feeling emotionally drained but calm. Like being born, screaming and exhausted and ready for a new beginning.

She looked around the Walgreens parking lot, rolling down her window to breathe in the scents of Albuquerque. She’d faced her past—she should get a freaking gold star—but as much as she loved this town, she was done with it now. Her future was in Malibu.

Chapter Thirty-Five

She had the entire drive back to think about what she would say to Adam when she saw him. For the first few hours, her conversation with her parents kept circling in her mind, but after she stopped at a Holiday Inn Express for the night her thoughts miraculously calmed down and she slept like the dead. The next morning she woke up feeling remarkably good. Refreshed and hopeful in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Her new agent, Claudia, called her when she was halfway through Arizona with good news. The New York based literary agent whom she’d worked with in the past was eager to take a look at Elena’s book whenever she was done with it and she had a publicist she wanted Elena to meet who had some excellent ideas about ways to subtly change her public image without losing name recognition.

She also had an audition. It was a smaller film—a political thriller—and Elena’s character would be murdered after the first twenty minutes, but her murder was a catalyst for the hero. It was a small but pivotal part. And the character was a reporter. Not a bimbo, but a smart, savvy driven woman who was not afraid to use her sexuality to her advantage in a male dominated industry.

Elena was so excited she had to pull over when Claudia told her about it. And then all she wanted to do was call Adam. But he was working and she would see him tonight.

She had a lot to tell him.

The traffic around Los Angeles slowed her down, adding an unnecessary hour, but she still beat him to the beach house. She hadn’t anticipated arriving first. She showered and changed, taking particular care with her hair and make-up, but still he wasn’t home.

She wanted tonight to be special. Important. She needed some kind of big romantic gesture to show him she was all in, that she’d decided to stop being an idiot and go for it, but everything she thought of felt cliché.

She printed out another copy of her book, hand-writing three different versions of a mushy dedication to him before she settled on
For Adam, with all my love
. The paper looked too plain, so she tied it in a red ribbon. Then she felt self-conscious with it sitting there on the kitchen counter so she put it in a box. With wrapping paper and another bow from the craft supplies she tripped across in the laundry room a few weeks ago when she was looking for dryer sheets.

But a book wasn’t a gesture. It wasn’t enough.

What did he want from her? What could she give him?

The Just Friends thing had bugged him, but she couldn’t exactly haul off and kiss him in front of the paparazzi when neither he nor the paparazzi were here to appreciate the gesture.

He wanted her to trust him—but how did she
show
him that? A freaking trust fall? Where was a team-building exercise when you needed one?

The front door opened while she was standing in the middle of the living room dithering.

“Elena?”

His voice broke right through her nerves, changing everything. This was
Adam.
She didn’t think—she just ran into his arms, throwing herself against him and planting a kiss on his mouth. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” He grinned down at her, hazel eyes glittering with a thousand spikes of color. “How was your drive?”

“Good. Excellent.” She pushed off his chest until she held him at arm’s length. She wanted nothing more than to drag him to bed and keep him there for days, but she needed to do this now, say this now, before she lost her nerve. “I had a lot of time to think. Process stuff. I have a lot to tell you.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. But you should sit down. When I pictured talking to you, you were always sitting in the living room.”

“Okay.” He let her tug him toward the sunken living room, shrugging out of his suit jacket and draping it over the arm of the sofa before he sat down. She watched as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. He looked so serious, so businesslike. Always controlled, her Adam.

She would never be controlled.

“I’m a mess.”

He met her eyes, brows arching high. “Is this a new mess or one I already know about?”

She twisted her hands together, letting her nerves show because it was only him there to see them. “Physically and emotionally, I’m always going to be messy. Life with me is never going to be neat and orderly.”

His lips quirked in a half-smile. “I think I’ve figured that out for myself, but I appreciate the warning.”

“I need you to shut up. The imaginary version of you in my car didn’t talk back. Or move.”

He snorted out a laugh but kept his mouth shut.

“I trust you.”

He nodded.

“It’s easy to trust you to save my life because you’re Superman, but it’s a lot harder for me to trust you to stay. Because in my experience, people don’t. They judge you and abandon you. They don’t stick by you when things go to hell and even though you did, I never trusted it. Even though I knew you were different. But it’s scary trying to trust someone not to let you down when it seems like people always do. And I’m normally not afraid to do something crazy—you know that—but this is like jumping off a bridge every day for the rest of my life and just trusting that you’re going to be there to catch me. That you aren’t going to look at me next week or some day five years from now and be bored or disgusted. That I’m not going to do something stupid to drive you away. But I love you. So I guess I’m going to jump off a bridge every morning for the rest of my life and just hope you’re always there to catch me, because if you aren’t I don’t know what I’ll do.

“I never used to think I needed anyone, but I need you. You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I want to talk to when things go wrong and the only one I want to tell when things go right. You make me feel like I can be better than I ever imagined—and not better by anyone else’s rules, but by mine. I’m not going to suddenly be a good cook, or be tidy, or be any less likely to snap at you when you interrupt my train of thought when I’m obsessed with my book, but I promise that I will love you more than anyone else ever could. And I’m not going to stop. That’s just who I am now. The girl who loves you whether you want her to or not. So…” She wet her lips. “Did I scare you off?”

“I can talk now?”

“Yeah. Your turn. Go for it.”

He was in front of her before she finished the last word, cutting it off with a kiss that seared her senses and sizzled through her all the way down to her toes.
Oh, mercy.
He must have been holding back before, because this was a whole new level.

He lifted his head, arms still wrapped around her. “I think we should get married. How’s tomorrow for you?”

“You’re not serious.” She laughed. Then she saw the look in his eyes, daring her.

“Come on, Elena. Be impulsive. Marry me. Vegas is just a few hours away.”

Another laugh burst out of her—as if she was so happy it wouldn’t all fit inside her. “You are serious. A runaway marriage? People will say I corrupted you.”

“You worry too much about what other people think.”

Maybe she did. “You think?”

“Marry me,” he coaxed. “You know you want to.”

The idea was intoxicating—and irresistible. Impulsive. So very
her.
So very them. Another laugh slipped out. “I think you’re going to be good for me, Adam Dylan.”

“Good is overrated.” He brushed her lips, kissed along her jaw, and then whispered into the hair next to her ear, “Let’s be bad.”

She held onto him, the star around which all her happiness orbited. “Let’s.”

Epilogue

“Our guest today has seen more than her share of scandal, but today she’s here to talk to us about her new book, her new foundation, and her handsome new husband. Please help me welcome… Elena Dylan!”

The studio audience applauded with genuine enthusiasm as Elena walked out to join the panel of women clustered around a table center stage. They each hugged her in turn, murmuring words of support and Elena beamed and thanked them as if she didn’t remember every negative word they’d ever said about her.

“First things first,” the hostess to her left began as they all settled back down to begin the interview. “Let’s see that rock!”

Elena flashed her ring, grinning widely as they all oohed and aahed.

The rock she’d been showing off on the talk show circuit for the last week was completely fake. Adam had wanted to get her a real one, but she liked flashy bling—and
real
flashy bling came with a flashy price tag. They’d agreed that saving their pennies in the hope that they could afford the beach house a little while longer was a better move for them than blowing thousands on jewelry.

Adam had promised to replace the fake stone with the real thing if they could ever afford it and Elena had told him the next time he saved a celebrity’s life, they were welcome to pay him in diamonds. With the way things were going for them right now, there was a chance they might not have to wait that long, but Elena was sentimental about her fake ring. It was the one Adam had put on her finger during their Vegas wedding. And she absolutely loved the feeling of putting one over on the entire world by flashing her giant fake rock on talk shows like it was Neil Lane.

“I thought you two said you were just friends,” another hostess said leadingly.

Elena smiled guiltily. “That was my doing, actually. My reputation was terrible and I didn’t want him to be negatively impacted by having his name tied to mine. But my husband is a persuasive man and he talked me into til-death-do-us-part only a few weeks later.”

“You’re very candid in your book about your relationship with your then-boyfriend and how much his support meant to you throughout the difficulties of the last year. Readers have been so moved by your love story and so many people are seeing you in a new light. How does it feel now that America is falling in love with you two?”

The book hadn’t been a hard sell. Morbid curiosity had helped it fly off the shelves, and at first those who read it seemed confused that it actually had substance, but gradually the reactions had shifted and seemingly overnight Elena had become America’s sweetheart. Something she knew better than to take to heart.

“It’s wonderful to feel that support from the American public.”
Fickle though they may be
. “But I think what’s been even more valuable to me is the realization that I had a lot more supporters than I realized even when things were at their worst. There were people who were speaking out on my behalf. It may have seemed like they were being drowned out by the voices of those who condemned me, but they were there and one of the goals of our new foundation is going to be to try to give those positive voices a megaphone.”

“You’re speaking of course of the Minerva Foundation you recently founded with Cassandra Newton to provide support to women in similar situations to those you faced.”

“That’s right. Cassandra Newton is very passionate about women’s issues.” Something Elena had only realized when Sandy had insisted on meeting her after she and Adam got back from their whirlwind honeymoon. “As is our other partner Miranda Pierce, the producer of
American Dance Star
.”

“Whom you met during your time on
Marrying Mister Perfect
?”

“Yes. And it all comes full circle.”

Sandy and Elena had actually become surprisingly good friends as they worked together to form the foundation. Things with Cassie were still a bit strained—but now that she’d started college in Connecticut she seemed to have found her place and was less likely to throw daggers at Elena when their paths crossed.

The hostesses chuckled and chatted. Everyone happy and sociable. As if they hadn’t been holding tar and feathers with everyone else just a few months ago.

They talked about her recent performance in
Unreasonable Doubt
—which had surprised the critics even more than her book had—and touched briefly on her upcoming roles.

Then came the question she always asked them not to ask—and they always asked anyway.

“One thing that really touched a lot of readers in your book was your honesty about how your difficulty with your family affected you, but I understand you’re on your way to reconciliation. How is that?”

“We’re in touch now,” Elena admitted—though that was all she was willing to say.

The reconciliation, such as it was, was slow going. Her mother had texted her with congratulations on the day news of her wedding went public. It was a small gesture, but it had been a start. Now they texted, emailed and even spoke on the phone occasionally. It was always very stilted, very cautious and mostly talking about her siblings and their lives—and her father was never mentioned, though she knew he was aware of the communication.

It was something. Her mother never mentioned the book, or her visit to New Mexico. She never admitted that Elena was right and they shouldn’t have cut her off—there was no vindication, no satisfaction on that level—but starting toward things being good with her parents again was worth more than being right.

When she didn’t elaborate, the hostess to her right took the hint and steered the conversation in a different direction. “You’re such a busy woman. Is it true you’re also training to get your black belt?”

Elena smiled. “I am. My husband is determined to make a badass out of me yet. Although he still refuses to admit I’m a better shot than he is.”

Twenty minutes later, the show’s talent liaison escorted her outside—where her husband was leaning against his Jeep. “There she is. America’s sweetheart, who is delusional enough to think she can outshoot me.”

Elena rolled her eyes at the sweetheart bit. “They ate it up. And it’s almost true.” She crossed into his arms, going up on her toes to kiss him. “I thought you had to work today.”

“Sandy’s ribbon cutting thingy was rescheduled. And Max wants me to tell you to start mentioning the Celebrity Self Defense courses EP does in your interviews. He’s greedy for the free press.”

“I’ll see if I can cram it into the conversation on the Late Late Show tonight. You wanna grab lunch before I have to head over to their studio?”

“You didn’t think I’d come all this way just to nag you for free press, did you?”

He held the door for her, helping her up into the passenger seat.

“They didn’t ask you about the sex tape,” he commented as he started the engine.

“They know I can’t comment on an ongoing legal clusterfuck. And they were going for cheesy-happy-redemption. It would have brought down the tone.”

The legal mess surrounding the tape was still ongoing, but she wasn’t going to borrow trouble. Whether they won or lost, whether it came out or not, she had people in her corner and a career that would survive it. And Adam.

She twisted to study the man in the driver’s seat, his strong profile, his clean-shaven jaw. She was so damn lucky to have him, but life could so easily have gone another way. For both of them.

“Do you ever think about guarding the President?”

He glanced at her, one brow arched. “Not really. Not anymore. Why?”

“I was just thinking about alternate universes. Where I’m married to Daniel and you’re guarding the President.”

“And we’re both miserable?”

“Probably.”

He reached over, catching her hand and bringing it over to rest in his on the center console. “No regrets, Elena mine.”

“Not one,” she agreed. Her fake ring glittered in the sunlight. He made her feel like she could do anything—even things that had always seemed terrifying and impossible. “We should have a baby.”

The car swerved ever so slightly. He shot her a sideways glance, laughing, “Now?”

“Maybe next year. Oscar voters love a pregnancy. And I’m definitely getting nominated for Sylvia. Have you read the script? She’s incredible.”

“So my job is to give you a nice baby bump for the Oscars next year?”

“Yeah. And, you know, a baby could be nice too.”

He grinned at her, understanding her as no one else ever had. “It could.” His voice was soft.

She smiled and settled back into her seat, pleased with the plan. Pleased with everything.

Her fake ring. Her real husband. Her dreams coming true. Just another of the glamorous people living her glamorous life.

THE END