Page 49 of Off Script

“And you’ve never spoken to her since?” Jada asked.

“She sends me birthday and holiday cards. That’s it.” Tristan refused to mention the recent phone call or meet Jada’s gaze. He didn’t want her to see the pain in his eyes—or see the pity in hers. Regardless, she touched his chin, turning him to face her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It is what it is.”

“It’s wrong is what it is. And I’m sorry you had to go through that. No kid deserves to lose their mom.” Jada held his hand, her touch soothing him.

“I’ve been hurt, too, you know. Not like that, but by someone I loved,” she continued. “I get how someone you cared about so deeply could hurt you and leave you wrecked.”

“Who?” he asked.

“My ex. The man I ran away from at the lounge.”

“Daniel Kane ofFallen Creaturesfame is your ex?” Tristan perked up at this revelation. Honestly, he’d been planning to use one of his questions to address the Daniel weirdness, but now all the ugly, crooked puzzle pieces fell into place. Her freak-out at the club, how weird Jada got about the show, and . . .

“Hmm. I guess that explains your Freudian moment this afternoon.”

“Sorry, I know that was weird.” Jada winced. “It’s just a lot of things have been resurfacing and, anyway, I know it doesn’t sound as severe as losing a family member.” Jada went on. “But he almost ruined my career. I almost lost everything because of him.”

Okay, with that in mind, Tristan didn’t particularlyenjoybeing compared to someone like that. Hearing her explanation just brought up more questions about what Daniel had done and how she could still put up with Avery—but since she hadn’t pushed him any further, he chose to return the favor. He raised his glass.

“Forget the game. Let’s toast to us. To not letting someone else’s betrayal define or defeat us.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Jada grinned and clinked her glass with his.

As they leaned back on the couch, winded from the slew of revelations, Jada pointed out that they still hadn’t laid out any ground rules. Tristan groaned, sinking farther into the cushions. They’d already debated with each other tonight like attorneys on a high-profile televised crime case. He didn’t have the energy to keep deliberating their “it’s complicated” relationship status. Hoping to fool her, Tristan closed his eyes and promptly began snoring.

“Not buying it, Tristan!” Jada pinched his nose, effectively cutting off his oxygen.

“Jeez, woman!” Tristan sat back up impatiently. “No cheating, no yelling at each other in public. What more do you want?”

In the brief moments when he’d pretended to get some shut-eye, Jada had whipped out a notebook and pen. After scribbling down his additions, she tapped the page thoughtfully.

“Give me a moment . . .”

Tristan leaned back again, his arm draped around the back of the couch. Jada reclined as well, resting against him as she eyed their list. But as she studiously considered their newfound rules, Tristan’s attention began to slip for real. His eyes shut once more as he rested his head on her shoulder.

Distantly, he heard her call his name, but he was already fading fast, falling asleep with her warmth next to him.

16

Enveloped in cozy warmth, Jada snuggled up to what shebelievedwas her satin pillow. When she cracked her eyes open, her pillow turned out to be Tristan’s chest. She jerked out of his embrace. The movement had the opposite effect of what she wanted. It woke Tristan up. Slightly disoriented, he glanced around the room blearily.

“What is it? What happened?”

“What happened is we fell asleep.” Jada’s eyes darted from her disheveled appearance to the empty glasses on the table.

Back in her college days, a scene like this would have suggested a hookup but the notebook next to the tequila bottle made the rest clear. After Tristan had conked out on her for real (so typical), Jada had stayed awake, pondering their new dating rules. First, she’d done an extensive map out of her boundaries, like PDA must be consensual and agreed upon prior to public appearances, also PDA did not include things like butt grabbing, and a heads-up the next time they had to trick a close friend or family member. Then she wondered if her list was going too overboard, considering she’d probably have to make concessions for it to look real to hard-core fans. She also kept replaying Tristan’s emphasis on compromising, which had her crossing out several lines. Exhausted from rewriting the list several times, Jada had ended up succumbing to the late-night drowsiness too. One glance at Mikayla’s Cheshire Cat wall clock made Jada spring into action.

“Oh my God. We’re going to be late for work!” She urged Tristan up off the couch.

“You’re good to drive back to your place, right?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me? If you think we’re going to be late now, imagine if I went home to shower and get ready,thentried to make it to set? Did you forget we’re shooting in Griffith Park? It’d be much easier if we both grabbed a quick shower here and then headed over on my bike.”

Jada balked at the idea. His so-called bike was a massive Harley that Tristan had driven to work several times. At the prospect of speeding down busy streets on the back of a giant motorcycle, Jada held up her hand in protest. “You want me to ride shotgun on that deathmobile? No thanks.”

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