Page 64 of (Un)Expected

When she reached her porch, she turned back around, chewing on her lower lip. “I’d invite you in…”

“It’s not a good idea,” I finished for her. “I’m not in a rush, sweetheart. I’m just happy to spend some time with you tonight.”

“And my hovering neighbors?” She nodded to the house behind me, where Curt and Marta were spying from the window. When I turned around, they dashed away, knowing they were busted.

I laughed, running my hand through my hair. “Yeah, even with them. I enjoyed getting to know them more.”

“Me too,” Alex sighed. “I liked getting to know you better, I mean. I was thinking…I don’t know…if you’d like–”

“Alex…” I smirked. “Are you asking me out?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nope, forget it.”

I reached out, taking her hand before she could turn around. I moved up the front steps, waiting until I stood directly in front of her to speak. “I’d love to go out with you.”

Her cheeks flooded with color again, and she nodded. “When?”

“Tomorrow?”

She laughed. “A little eager there, Mr. Campbell?”

“For you? Always.”

She tucked that damn lower lip between her lips again, hiding her full smile. That wasn’t going to work for me. I reached out, loosening it with my thumb as she stared up at me, her eyes now lust-blown and heavy. Alex shook her head suddenly, as if trying to focus on something other than my touch. “I can’t tomorrow. I have to go with Adam to a crew dinner.”

Shit, I was supposed to go to that too. I had forgotten entirely. Maybe I could find an excuse to bow out of it. There was no way I’d be able to sit there all night, watching Adam and Alex fawn over each other.

An idea popped into my head. “What about after?”

“After dinner?” She arched her brow. “Seems a little presumptuous.”

“Nah, not like that. I know how these dinners always go: lots of ego and too little food. Trust me, you’re going to want a real meal after.”

“And where are we going?”

I lifted my hand, brushing the back of my fingers against her cheek. “Let me worry about that. You go have fun.” I stared at her a little more intensely. “Nottoomuch fun, though. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Alex lifted onto her toes, brushing a soft kiss on my cheek. “I like the sound of that.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

The moment my house came into view, my body sagged in relief.Longest evening ever. Nothing made you feel more like an outsider than sitting at a table, surrounded by a film crew as they talked all about their project. Very few looked in my direction, much less spoke to me. I played my part, smiling when the cameras pointed toward Adam and me, staring at him adoringly when people asked about his process.

I felt like an accessory, something to be admired on Adam’s arm, rather than a person of interest.

Which wasfine. It was what I signed up for.

However, the pang in my chest told me it wasnotokay. I would never settle for a life like that. Every day, I was learning more and more that Adam and I weren’t compatible beyond friendship. His world revolved around his craft, which was an admirable quality. However, considering the amount of schmoozing and networking it required, it felt like acting was the most minimal part of his career. I would never have the disposition to stand by his side, smiling and nodding politely.

I shook the thought from my brain, hating that tonight made melook at Adam in a different light. He was still my friend, the guy who texted me constantly to ensure I was handling the media scrutiny—not that there had been much. After the initial shock wore off, people seemed to accept our relationship. Some trolls came out of the woodwork, but I was learning to tune them out.

There were still days when I wondered if my past would come back to haunt me. Every time a new post or article mentioned me, I anxiously watched my phone, wondering if it would finally be the day I feared.

So far, nothing had come out. No one from my past had shown up, and I knew I had Theo to thank for that. He was hyper-vigilant about Adam’s publicity and worked hard to kill any story that might paint him negatively. I knew if he found something out, he would have told me.

Shaking my head, I killed the engine of my jeep, dragging my body through the front door, my stomach grumbling as soon as I walked inside. Cole was right. Apparently, when you’re feeding a bunch of actors, meals are carefully crafted based on their dietary restrictions: no butter, no salt, no joy. It took three bites to turn my stomach.

I glanced at my phone, hoping Cole would be over soon. I texted him when I left the hotel, but there was no response yet.

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