Nothing besides Ian, that is.
I’m doing the right thing. I know I am. He’s only been a part of my reality for seven weeks—once he’s gone, I’ll adjust to the new reality of life without him in it. Of course I will. Seven weeks is nothing. It’s a press junket. An awards season. It’s nothing.
Or it could be everything. If I let it.
I can’t, I tell myself again. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
But even after I close my eyes, Ian is all I can see. He’s all I can hear, all I can feel, all I can taste. And I ache with the need to touch him just one more time.
Except he’s gone and I’m the one who sent him away.
It’s better this way. Better for him to go now when there’s still a chance I can recover. When there’s still a chance I can recover from needing him.
I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to need anybody. It’s better that way…for everybody. After all, I’ll never be able to trust him again. Not after he lied to me. Not after he used me.
Not after he…saved me. The realization slams through me. Because he did save me. Unlike the man I knew as Liam Brogan. Unlike my father. Unlike my mother. Ian saved me. What more could I ask of him? What more proof could I possibly want? He’s already humbled himself in front of me, already given me his word—and his tears. And I threw them back in his face.
Shit.
—
I turn around and dash through the patio doors before racing madly down the hallway to the entryway. I made the wrong decision. It was the safe decision, but it was the wrong one.
I lay on the speed, tell myself that I can still catch him. That I can still—
I freeze as I hit the foyer. Because Ian is standing there, leaning against the front door with his arms across his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, eyebrows raised as he looks me over from head to toe.
That’s when I realize I’m still naked. Of course I am. “That’s the second time you’ve saved me from wandering L.A. in my birthday suit.”
“It is indeed.” He smiles. “Most people would say that’s reason enough to keep me around.”
“Maybe they would. But I’m not most people.”
“Believe me, I am well aware of that fact.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
He makes an agreeing sound. “I am.”
“Why is that?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I was waiting for you.”
It’s my turn to arch a brow. “Waiting for me to do what exactly?”
“Waiting for you to realize you love me, too. Obviously.”
“You were so sure that was going to happen?”
“Sure, no? Desperate for it to happen? Absolutely. On the bright side, I had a strong hunch you were going to come around.”
“A strong hunch, huh?” I cross the foyer to meet him, wrapping my arms around his waist so I can stick my hands in his back pockets. “And why is that?”
“Because this is Hollywood, baby. Happy endings are what you do.”
“They are indeed.” I lean into him, tilt my head up for his kiss. “You sure you want me to be your happy ending?”
“You’re already my happy ending, Veronica. I want you to be my everything.”
Fuck. “You can’t just go around saying things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love you.” My eyes well. I’m not embarrassed, though, because his do, too.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. And I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t tell you—”
“Hey!” I slap a hand over his mouth. “No apologies after the credits roll. Hollywood rules.”
“Oh, right.” His grin turns wicked. “Well, then, is there anything we can do after the credits?”
I glance down at my still nude form. “Maybe. Since we’ve got the R-rating and all.”
“Forget R,” he says with a snort as he sweeps me into his arms. “I say we go for NC-17.”
Epilogue
“And the winner of the Academy Award for best actress is…Veronica Romero-Sharpe for Breathless.”
I’m out of my seat before she is, cheering like a crazy person as they call my wife’s name. Her eyes are huge as she stands up a few seconds later, her skin flushed. And then she’s in my arms, her cheek pressed to mine and her body trembling against my own.
“They did call my name, right?” she murmurs into my ear even as she holds on tight. “I’m not going to humiliate myself by walking onto that stage?”
The small show of insecurity makes me smile as I hug her even more tightly. “They called your name, baby. Now go get your little gold man.”
She laughs at that, just like I knew she would, a bold, rich sound that fills my heart and turns me on, all at the same time. Not that that’s a surprise—Veronica’s been doing that to me from the moment I met her four years ago.
“I bet those are seven words you never thought you’d say,” she murmurs as she brushes past me into the aisle.
I grab her hand, pull her back for one more quick hug. “I always knew I’d say them. Always.”