“Well, they’re not really supposed to, but it doesn’t stop them.”
“Grody! Let’s just go back to your place.”
“Good idea.”
Walking back into the party, some boobified blonde intercepted us and wedged herself between Trip and me, her back in my face. “Trip Wiley,” she purred, trailing a hand down his arm. “My, my, my. Where have you been hiding yourself, handsome?”
Ugh. Nice line, hosebag. Where did this chick get off? He was obviously there with me, yet she chose to completely ignore that small fact in her quest to make time with my boyfriend. Again, from the looks of it.
Smelly pirate hooker. Go back to your home on Whore Island.
Trip very politely excused himself from her clutches and led me over to our booth to grab our stuff. I’d been looking forward to diving into the SWAG bags as soon as humanly possible, but suddenly, I could care less about them. I was way too pissed to be curious about a sack of free tchotchkes.
Trip put a hand at my elbow, and the contact served to break my control. I spun on my heel and snapped, “Is there anyone in this city you haven’t fucked?”
His shoulders sunk as he registered the broken look on my face, the barely restrained tears. “Layla, come on. That was before. You and I weren’t together for a long time.”
“Oh, but ‘you never stopped loving me’. I was ‘always with you’.”
He slid his hand up and down my arm. “You were. You are. Babe. Don’t do this. Don’t be one of those crazy jealous girls. It’s not who you are.”
I don’t know where he got the impression that I wasn’t a jealous person. I guessed we just hadn’t ever been a couple long enough before to be able to find out.
The truth was, I was feeling pretty green right at that moment. Not just green-eyed in a monster-like capacity, but green about this entire world of fast and loose sex.
Green-skinned as I became sick to my stomach.
Trip was looking at me hopefully, unsure of just exactly what to say. He raised a hand to my face and brushed a thumb against my cheek. “I love you.”
I let out a conceding breath at his words. “I know. I know you do. This is…” just so much to handle. “This is just not how I pictured the ending of our night. When I see hints of your life as him, it’s kind of confusing for me. Understand?”
“Oh, Lay,” he chuckled and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest. “It’s not real. We are. I’m sorry if all this made you doubt that.”
All this. The glitz and the glamour, the flashbulbs and the phoniness. I shouldn’t have been doubting him. Just because he was playing Trip Wiley all evening didn’t mean that’s who he was to me. I’d have to do a better job of reminding myself I was in The Land of Make Believe. To be honest, it felt as though I were playing some sort of part, too. The jealousy thing was a tad out of character.
He tipped my chin to his face, bent down and gave me a sweet kiss along my lips.
A very real, very sincere kiss. A Trip Wilmington kiss.
The gesture thawed me out and allayed my concerns. And thankfully, by the time we got back to his house, we’d both decided to table the incident.
It was easy to overlook almost anything when Trip was intent on making me forget.
He made leisurely love to me for hours, and after that, I couldn’t even remember my name.
Chapter 20
COME AWAY HOME
We had a couple free weeks to take it easy, considering Slap Shot wasn’t due to start filming until the end of March. We went out into the world sometimes, but mostly, we just enjoyed staying in. It was easier to relax when we were able to take up residence in our own, private cocoon.
Because going out was always a spectacle.
In spite of the baseball cap, Trip was stopped everywhere we went; people asking for autographs, tourists snapping pictures. He took it all in stride, but it was a little overwhelming for me. I was astounded at the attention he attracted. I mean, I knew he was famous and all, but knowing something and living it were two totally different things. I watched his interactions with awe, seeing “Trip Wiley” the way the world saw him, the pieces of this public figure they thought they were entitled to. Who was this sexy, urbane man that had emerged from the clunky (but okay, yeah, still sexy) teenager I once knew? When Trip was being him, he carried himself with an inflated confidence which managed to come off as almost… graceful.
I spent some of our time in seclusion getting some writing done, and thank God, because I had barely thought about work since the moment Trip walked back into my life. Aside from that notable distraction, it was just simply too hard to get back into the grind out there. California was so laid-back. Content. Peaceful.