Page 99 of One Life to Loathe

That was no longer an option. My freak-out—and that’s exactly what it had been—assured that everybody knew. That meant someone would leak it to the tabloids before the weekend was out. We wouldn’t be on the front page ofUS Weekly—we weren’t big enough stars—but we would rate our own article. Actually, I saw a four-page spread. There was no way the newsof Sylvia and Bethany fighting over Ed wouldn’t become public knowledge too. The show would be gossip fodder right from the start, which would build up anticipation.

That was good for Sam. And Miles … and Salem. That meant it would be good for Daisy and Jax, too. I wanted the show to succeed for all of them. And, well, maybe for myself.

Somewhere along the line I hadn’t exactly grown fond of the show. I no longer hated having to be on it, though. I spent time talking about my character’s motivations with Miles. There were lines of dialogue I helped rewrite because I didn’t think my character would actually say them. I liked seeing the sets. The thought of escaping after the first season was no longer my main goal.

No, Sam is all you care about.

My pesky inner voice reminded me of that on a daily basis now. She was the first thing I thought of every morning, and she was the last thing I thought about every night. During the day, my mind drifted to her at least a hundred times. She was consuming me…and not in a bad way.

I couldn’t leave her.

That realization had hit me like a semi-truck when she smacked her head on the concrete floor. In that moment, all I could think about was what my life would be like without her. I didn’t want to even consider it any longer. That didn’t mean I could give up my dreams and live the life she wanted. There had to be a compromise in there somewhere.

That was what was on my mind when I hit the witch herb store for the massage oil Sam mentioned. I got three different scents to make sure she had options. Then I did the one thing I never thought I would do and pulled out my phone.

Alexander, the chauffeur psychologist, pulled to a stop at the corner of Essex and Hawthorne Boulevard ten minutes later. Iclimbed in the backseat—that seemed to be what was expected—and hunkered down as he pulled away.

“I assume you didn’t call me here to help you escape to the airport,” Alexander offered as he drove toward Derby Street. “Since you don’t have any luggage with you, that seems to be a safe assumption.”

“I’m not running,” I replied. “I just… I need help to be a better man.”

Alexander’s eyebrows hopped in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think anybody has ever said that to me before.”

“I have issues,” I admitted. “I’m a complete and total idiot when it comes to being a good person. I need to fix that before … well, before I figure out what to do.”

Alexander was quiet for several seconds, although he nodded, as if taking it all in. “Okay, we need to start from the beginning. I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

“Aren’t you supposed to intuit these things?”

“I’m a psychologist, not a psychic.”

“Oh, right.” I hated talking to people about my feelings. I didn’t see a way out of it this time. “It’s Sam.”

“Ah.” Alexander broke out in a wide grin. “I saw that coming.”

“Maybe that makes you psychic, because I didn’t see it coming.”

“You didn’t want to see it coming. There’s a difference.”

“You spent thirty minutes with us after a long flight,” I snapped. “Somehow you knew we would end up here. How?”

“How did I know you would develop feelings for her?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’tknowyou would contract actual feelings. I just saw the attraction.”

“But … I wasn’t attracted to her that day.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. We’d sparked from our first meeting, nomatter how I tried to deny it. “There was something there from the start,” I realized out loud.

“What do you feel now?” Alexander asked.

“Lost. Found. I feel everything.”

“Have you two been seeing each other?”

“It started just as sex.”

“I figured.” Alexander looked smug.

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