Page 63 of Glitz & Goals

Before I can reply, Jaime bursts out from backstage, his face a picture of guilt and panic. “Oh, my gosh, Vivian, I’m so sorry!” He throws his hands over his face like he’s shielding himself from a firing squad. “I can’t believe I hit you that hard—”

“Why the hell did you hit her at all?” Grady’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and unyielding.

“It was the stunt!” Jaime wails, peeking out from behind his hands. “My timing’s been off, and we wanted to nail it, and we were practicing backstage, and she got too close, and—”

“So you hit your friend in the face?” Grady takes a step forward, and for a terrifying moment, I think he might actually grab Jaime by the collar. “She’s swollen and purple!”

“Grady.” I tug at his arm, forcing him to look at me. “It wasn’t his fault. I was bumbling around with my head in the clouds, and I wasn’t paying attention. Accidents happen all the time in this business. Nobody’s to blame, okay?”

He doesn’t look convinced. His jaw works, his bicep flexes under my hand, and for a moment, I think he might explode anyway. But then he exhales, his shoulders dropping slightly as his gaze softens. “Okay,” he says, though the tension in his voice suggests he’s far from satisfied. “Maybe I overreacted a bit. But if anyone else lays a hand on you—accident or not—they’re answering to me.”

A shiver runs down my spine, one I can’t entirely blame on the lingering ache in my cheek. His protectiveness is overwhelming, almost suffocating, and yet… I don’t hate it. In fact, I feel a strange pull in my chest, like some deeply buried part of me is waking up, reaching for him.

I glance at Jaime, who’s still hiding behind his fingers. “Go tell the director I’m heading home to get some ice on this. He can call me if there’s an emergency with any of the costumes.”

Jaime nods, salutes, and scurries off without another word. When I turn back to Grady, his eyes are still on me, dark and unreadable. “Let me drive you home,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix lunch while you ice that bruise.”

I hesitate, but only for a moment. “Okay.”

As we walk backstage to grab my purse, I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me—like the thought of anything happening to me physically hurt him. It’s terrifying, yes, but it’s also… intoxicating. He meant it when he said he’d do anything for me. And for the first time, that thought doesn’t make me want to run. Instead, it makes me want to hold on tighter.

Chapter Nineteen

Grady

On the car ride back from the Mona Lisa, Vivian is quiet. She keeps staring out the window, but I can still see her silky skin swollen to twice its size, along with the shadow of the dark bruise across her cheek from this angle, and every time I catch a glimpse of it, I want to punch something.

“I’m sorry if I was a dick,” I blurt.

Viv startles and turns to face me. “You weren’t. You overreacted a little, but it was sweet that you cared about my welfare. The alpha male posturing some guys do is gross, but it’s nice to know that if someone had hurt me, you wouldn’t let it slide. Women can be smart, capable, and independent, but when it comes to physical violence against us, sometimes we need an assist.”

I keep my eyes on the road ahead. “I’ve made no secret about how I feel about you, Viv.”

She runs her hand through her hair. “Not from me, maybe. But it’s still a secret from my family.”

“Only because you want it to be. I thought that was obvious. I’ve been letting you take the lead, but if you wanted to be official, I’d be shouting about us from the rooftops. Literally. I have a ladder that’ll go all the way to the gutters, and I’m not too proud to make a fool of myself.”

Viv laughs at that, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes. “And what does being official look like to you? Because I’m thirty-two. And while our sex is crazy hot, I’m at the stage where I’m thinking long-term, big picture.”

I swallow my rising panic. “And you don’t see me as long-term?”

I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white, trying to keep my voice steady even as everything inside me feels like it’s unraveling. The thought of her walking away over something stupid—something I can’t control—makes my chest feel like it’s caving in. I can handle anything life throws at me, but the idea of losing her? That’s the one thing that could break me.

“I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is…” She traces her fingertip along the thigh of her pants, connecting dots that only she can see. “I want a family. And I know you said you can’t have kids, but that’s not the same as being open to other ways of having kids… unless you don’t want kids at all? I guess I just need to clarify exactly what you meant when you said that.”

I risk a glance away from the road to meet her eyes. “Are you actually ready to have this conversation?”

She nods.

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and lock my hands around the wheel. “I want kids. I want a family. I’m not dead-set on them being my biological children, but I don’t know that much about the adoption process, so if I were going to seriously consider that route, I’d have a lot of questions. If it was really important to you, I’d be open to considering a sperm donor if it comes to that.”

“Really?” I can feel her eyes on me.

“Really. I know a lot of guys have this complex about passing on their DNA, but I just… I think I’d make a good dad. Having biological kids doesn’t guarantee that you’ll have a great relationship with them, so why should the reverse be any different? I want to have a relationship with my kid, or kids. That’s more important to me.”

“Wow.” Viv lets out a shaky breath. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“I’ve considered adopting on my own, for what it’s worth,” I tell her, my voice steady but thick with emotion. “I come from a close family, Viv. Like, the kind of family where Sunday dinners are sacred, and every birthday, every milestone, is celebrated like it’s a national holiday. I’ve got two older sisters who still call me their ‘baby brother’ even though I’m a grown-ass man, and a mom who would move mountains for us. My dad? He’s the reason I know what it means to be a good man, a good parent. That’s the kind of love I grew up with and the kind of love I’d want to give to a kid—whether I raised them alone or not.”

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