“Don’t say no. Just think about it. Think about how great we were in bed and how great we could be still.”
He sighed, reached up for her hand, but she would not let go, so he covered it with his, trying to loosen her grip. “Baby, we weren’t that good together. We argued all the time, and you weren’t exactly faithful, and the sex wasn’t that great. We really oughta hang it up, don’t you think? You’d be so much better off with a guy who made you happy. I don’t make you happy. I piss you off.”
“Why don’t you want me?” she asked, leaning into him, tilting her head back. “I’m a movie star. There are a million guys who’d want to be with me.”
“I know,” he said and impulsively kissed her cheek as he removed her hand from his shirt. “Why don’t you want to be with a guy who wants you more than the air he breathes, Nic? You’re right—there are a million of them. So why beat this old dead horse?”
Nicole sighed and lowered her lids so that she could just barely see him. Michael imagined some director had once told her that looked sexy, but it looked stupid as hell.
“It’s not a dead horse. I still love you.”
“Nicki, you never loved me,” he said, and smiled tenderly, for even though she was making an ass of herself, he felt a little sorry for a woman who was a mega star and had to go about getting a guy like this. He started to tell her she should look beyond the movie business for love, but a movement caught his eye, and he glanced up.
There, across the parking lot, was Leah, looking a little dumbfounded and a whole lot pissed. He tried to step away, but Nicole was determined, and grabbed his shirt again. “Wait,” she pouted. “Let me just say this . . .”
It was too late, anyway. Leah was already in her car. And as Nicole made her case to Michael, Leah drove away, surely believing now that not only did he have a thing with Ariel, but still hadn’t managed to get past the one with Nicole, either.
And exactly when was it that he thought being the Extreme Bachelor was a good thing?
Subject: Okay. You were right.
From: Leah Kleinschmidt <[email protected]>
To: Lucy Frederick <[email protected]>
Time: 6:10 pm
There is nothing that makes me want to jump off a building more than this, but okay, I have to admit it, Lucy—you were right. Michael is an asshole and all I did was set myself up for a humongous, body-splattering fall. Granted, it was a fall through a very cool movie premiere and some of the best sex I have ever had in my life, but spectacular nonetheless. So get a load of this: he was on a date with someone as recently as last week. Last week! And as if that wasn’t painful enough, I see him in the parking lot today with his tongue practically down Nicole Redding’s throat. Please tell me why I am such an idiot? I will believe anything. I am so going to get a huge bottle of vodka right now and drown myself.
P.S. Thanks for finding the turquoise fabric for the bridesmaid’s dresses, but after what I just went through, I hope I never see the color turquoise again. I will not wear turquoise jewelry or admire it in the ocean or even admit it exists as a color.
Subject: Re: Okay. You Were Right
From: Lucy Frederick <[email protected]>
To: Leah Kleinschmidt <[email protected]>
Time: 9:19 pm
I TOLD YOU SO. Don’t jump, just remember that I am always right, and your life will be a lot easier. Damn, that makes me so MAD. I KNEW he was going to screw you over, that bastard!! But hey, what’s done is done. I’m sorry, kid. I always thought there was something totally untrustworthy about him, but I can’t believe he turned out to be an asshole. Chin up. Don’t drink yourself to death.
Chapter Nineteen
OF course Leah didn’t answer her phone when Michael called several times through the last week of boot camp, and of course she found reasons to leave the lot early each day, too, so she wouldn’t risk running into him.
And of course he came to her house. She expected it. She also expected Brad to remember her admonitions to keep him at the door, but Brad invited him in for a beer like they were old college buddies. They even watched some hoops, according to Brad, who, when confronted by Leah after Michael had left, very cheerfully confessed it all.
“I like him,” Brad said, tipping his beer toward Leah. “Cool guy.”
“Yeah, he’s cool all right,” Leah muttered, and stomped back to her bedroom, pissed at her roommate. “Thanks a lot, Brad!” she yelled at him, and Brad just waved at her over the top of his head.
Michael showed up when she was packing a few things for the trip to Bellingham, Washington, later that week and knocked lightly on the doorjamb of her bedroom. He would have knocked on the door, but it was open, and Leah was standing in the middle of her room, wearing shorty gym shorts and a cropped T-shirt, trying to decide if she needed two black skirts or just one. When she heard the knock, she expected Brad, and groaned when she looked up, turning away from the sight of him.