Page 46 of If My Wishes Came True
Esther tilts her head for a beat before she answers me. “How about this: you spend the next month hanging out with Charlie, and getting to know each other as friends. Take sex out of the equation. You said you were grateful for that aspect of your relationship with Hunter, right? You didn’t have to worry about him wanting you for superficial reasons. What if your relationship with Charlie began the same way?”
I like the idea, and I’m smiling all the way home from Esther’s office, because I’m so excited to make plans with him. I honestly don’t care what we do—or don’t do. I just want to be near him. When the elevator doors open to the twentieth floor, I almost expect to see Charlie standing there, but there’s no one in sight. As I pass his apartment, I consider knocking, but it’s nine on a Saturday morning, and he might still be sleeping, so I decide to wait another hour.
But right as I’m putting on my smock and getting ready to paint, I hear someone at my door. My heart skips a beat.
Charlie.
I can only imagine how silly I must look with my paint-splotched smock over my tank top and shorts, and my hair upin a messy bun, but I don’t care. And I know he won’t either.
I open the door with a huge smile on my face—that instantly falls flat. My mouth gapes. My stomach churns. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Grady Brooks has the audacity to smile at me. “I owe you an apology.”
I stand there in stunned silence.
He gestures toward the inside of my apartment. “May I come in?”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Absolutely not. And how did you even get up here, anyway? The doorman’s supposed to call me first.”
Grady grins. “I got lucky. The doormanwas a woman. I told her I was surprising you, let her take a selfie with me, and here I am. The perks of celebrity.”
“You’re the worst,” I tell him, wondering if there’s actual steam coming out of my ears, because it sure as hell feels that way.
If there is, though, Grady doesn’t notice. He’s too busy looking me up and down. “Are you wearing clothes under that thing?” he asks, referring to my smock.
“Please leave,” I say, beginning to close the door, but he braces his hand against it to stop me.
“Jenna, wait,” he says, taking a step back. “Look, I know you hate me. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
My hands are on my hips. “It’s worth nothing, Grady. Nothing at all.”
“I shouldn’t have involved you in my beef with Dex,” he continues. “And I definitely should have known that he wouldsnitch,” he adds under his breath.
I shake my head. “Are you kidding me?That’syour apology? You betrayed my trust. You manipulated me. You got me drunk, and?—”
He raises a finger. “Technically speaking,yougot yourself drunk.”
I stifle a scream. “Was any of it true? Did your neighbor really drop off that bottle of wine? Or did you buy it, hoping I’d get wasted, succumb to terrible decision-making, and have sex with you?”
The angrier I get, the more amused Grady seems to be. “If there’s one thing you can trust about me, Jenna, it’s that I want to sleep with you. I’ve been honest about that from the day we met. You’re the only woman I know who’s impervious to my charm, and it drives me insane.”
“You are such an entitled prick,” I say, my voice shaking. “You play women like pawns in this sick, misogynistic game of yours—get them in bed, then send pictures to Dex—and you think that’scharming?”
He smirks. “Oh, please, let’s not be naïve. Most women would kill to spend the night with me. Don’t you keep up with celebrity news? My exes love to talk about how I’m the best sex of their life—and needless to say, my reputation precedes me. I’m as much of a conquest to the women I sleep with as they are to me. More often than not, the selfies in bed are their idea—so they can brag about me to their friends the next day. So, believe me, no one’s a victim here.”
My eyes tear up. “No one’s a victim, huh? Do youwant to know how I reacted when Dex told me about the picture you sent?I fell apart!I didn’t get out of bed for four days. I didn’t leave my building for a week. I was so depressed, I started therapy.”
Grady’s eyes go wide.
“And if that twisted brain of yours thinks you’re special for having such a powerful effect on me, think again,” I continue. “You’re only one in a very long line of men who’ve betrayed my trust. That’s why I was so triggered by what you did. But don’t tell me your stupid games don’t have victims, because you’re wrong.”
Grady sighs and runs a hand through his hair. When he looks at me again, I see something resembling remorse in his eyes. But I’d be willing to bet my life that he’s acting.
“Jenna, I’m really sorry.” He shakes his head. “That fucking sucks. If I had known this would upset you so much, I never would have done it. Everyone’s so jaded in Hollywood, I forget there are real people out there with real feelings.”
“That’s no excuse,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He scowls and looks down at his shoes. “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you, and I’ll do it. You already rejected my first apology gift?—”
