Page 101 of Beyond the Spotlight Discreet Version
I open my mouth to further explain, but Adeline grabs my face. Her tiny cold hands squeeze my cheeks enough to form a fish face.
“You’re the only dad I’ve known. Not that scary man who tried to hurt me and Savvy.”
I pull her into a hug. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Dad.” She sighs, dramatically. “Can we go home now?”
Twoweeksaftertheattack and the media attention has barely died down. The paparazzi finally found my penthouse. I’m surprised it took them this long. I put the lease under an LLC I created called Poppy’s Trust. It’s a common practice for celebrities when trying to keep their home purchases private.
We’d been careful about being followed home, but after the attack, it was impossible to ditch everyone. All it took was one time, and whichever media outlet tailed us shared their findings with the rest of the gaggle.
Because of the circus outside the building, Savannah, Addy, and I stayed inside the penthouse for the past two weeks. We had movie nights, all day read-a-thons, dress up parties, and Mario Kart competitions. We did a few living room karaoke performances. Savannah didn’t lie about not being able to sing. She’s not as bad as Mylan, but she sang with all his confidence—probably because we were in the living room and not in front of a crowd of strangers.
I also, finally, played my guitar for her. I swear I saw hearts in her eyes. She smiled and swooned and sighed, then pulled me to our room and showed me just how much she loved that solo performance.
Two weeks of wonderful memories, but we all have cabin fever.
Tonight was the premiere of Jensen’s documentary of Rebecca’s life. He took a step back from directing blockbuster movies to spend time with the woman he’s been in love with for years. He documented her book tour forTyler’s Team, the book about her brother’s battle with cancer and the good he did until his dying day. Jensen also made sure to tell Rebecca’s story. One that was overlooked by her brother’s diagnosis.
The red carpet was chaotic, as always. Paparazzi asked us questions about the attack, our engagement, and my next role. We kept our answers quick and simple.
“No comment.”
“We are happy and excited to get married.”
“I have my first romantic comedy role that starts filming in three months.”
The documentary was ninety minutes long and fantastic. Savannah cried and laughed and grabbed my arm with joy when she spotted shots of Silo Springs, Arkansas—the town she grew up in.
Now we’re back at the penthouse to change before heading to The Met Cloisters for the after party. It’s a place I’ve been to many times. It’s near where the Renaissance Faire is held every year.
Since the faire already took place a few weeks ago, Rebecca and Jensen created their own festival. I’m going as a knight, ditching the armor to don a black warrior tunic with black pants, black boots, and a belt for my sword.
Addy is also a knight, but her costume is made of soft fabrics sewn to appear as armor.
Then there’s Savannah. The woman I love who takes my breath away… who makes my heart drum in my chest. She wears the sexiest green dress with a corset that pushes her breasts up generously. Her hair cascades over her shoulders in loose curls and a diamond crown sits atop her head.
A queen.
“If you keep staring at me like that, we’ll never make it to the after party.”
“I don’t mind being late.” I smirk and reach out to her. I run my hands up and down her arms, grazing my fingertips over the wound from the slashing. It’s still raised and red. The stitches have since dissolved, leaving behind a scar.
I’ve been touching the wound a lot these past couple of days, as if reminding myself, or assuring myself, that she’s alive.
My future wife.
Savannah steps into my arms like she’s my missing piece, and I wrap them tightly around her. “I just need five minutes.”
“Five?” She chews on her bottom lip, holding back a smile. Her eyes give it away, though. Bright with humor.
I lean in to press a kiss against her neck, just below her ear. “Trust me. I’ll make you come twice in five minutes.”
“Daaaad. Saaaavvy. Come on!” Adeline huffs at the end of the hallway, tapping her tiny foot.
“Okay little miss sassy pants,” I muse.
“Ugh, Dad. Stop.”
