Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“You liked that I gave you your space,” I said, not sure where he was going with this. Or how real we were being. That was the problem with fake. After a while it got hard to tell fact from fiction. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to start asking him personal questions on prime-time TV.
“Yeah, I did,” he agreed. “But that’s not why I kept going back. I did that because I wanted to get to know you. So I’d sit near the back of the restaurant where you tended to hang out doing things and I’d just kind of see if today was the day.”
My smile didn’t fit quite right. It felt off center or something.
“Never really told you that before, did I?”
“No,” I said, “you didn’t.”
His smile turned into something more genuine. Something just for me.
“You never talked about this?” asked Margarita. “Why didn’t you tell her, Patrick?”
He licked his lips. “Guess I figured she knew. I didn’t want to be the creep that kept turning up at her job, you know? I was trying to play it cool.” He turned to Margarita before looking back at me. “I really thought you knew, Norah.”
“I didn’t,” I said, laughing. How awkward. “I thought you liked the food. Are you being serious right now?”
“Absolutely.” And his gaze gave away nothing. Or possibly everything. It was really hard to tell which.
“You kept coming into the restaurant because of me?”
“Of course I did,” he said, tone definite.
My smile stayed weird and hesitant. Angie would probably smack me upside the head and tell me to get with the program. He was just saying what everyone wanted to hear. Selling the grand romance of the century, a Hollywood heartthrob and the fan girl. I just wish I hadn’t wanted to hear it so damn much. That maybe he’d been choosing me all along and not the Penne Ragu and Meatballs with Parmesan. Not the quick fix to his damaged reputation. Just me. Was it even possible?
But this was work and we were playing our roles. Now was no time to get carried away and start questioning everything. Later maybe.
“How does that make you feel, Norah?” asked Margarita, her voice low.
He watched me like nothing else mattered. Like everything I said and did was important. And I couldn’t have looked away from him if I tried.
“Special,” I said after swallowing hard. “But he makes me feel special all the time. Between you and me, that’s why I keep him around.”
The audience laughed, delighted.
“Oh, I like you. And the bond between you two is beautiful,” said Margarita with a smile. “I’m so glad you came on the show today.”
“So am I,” I said, relaxing a little. As much as I could, given the situation. “So am I.”
You can tell when everything is exceeding expectations. When life is so damn close to perfect you can taste it. It’s when things are inevitably turned upside down again. Because we’d not only survived the TV interview, but it kind of felt like we’d worked wonders. We’d won them over. Patrick and I had charmed the studio audience and our interviewer, it seemed. We’d been funny and authentic in a way I hadn’t expected, especially since so much of us and our relationship wasn’t real. So of course, when everything was great, we hit a wall. The wall.
His cell rang as we arrived home and were walking in the door. When he looked at the screen, his whole body seemed to switch from relaxed to alert in an instant. “Janisha. Hey.”
Janisha was his agent’s name. I hadn’t met her, but apparently she was fearsome, charming, and generally not to be messed with. Which is about what you’d want in a Hollywood agent.
“Of course the answer is yes.” His gaze jumped to me before his jaw tensed and he turned away. “That soon? Shit.” Next, he shoved a hand through his hair, all agitated. “If that’s what they want. Okay. ’Bye.” And he disconnected the call. There was something in his eyes, a mixture of sadness and resignation.
“You got the job.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Congratulations.” Of all the fake smiles I’d flashed over the course of my life, this one would go down as the hardest. My cheek twitched violently and I kind of wanted to cry. But I wouldn’t. It felt a little like what I’d imagined getting punched in the chest would be like. My heart might never be the same. “That’s great, Paddy.”
“They want me on a flight to Hungary tonight, if possible.”
“Hungary?”
“I’ll be there for a bit over three months.”
“Wow.” And despite knowing this was bound to happen sometime, it just seemed so soon. Too soon. Though I didn’t let any of that out of my mouth.
“We did it,” he said, slipping his cell into his back pocket with a smile on his lips. And he was so happy now, his big body all but radiating joy. “Or you did it. That’s the truth—you rescued me. I’m officially no longer persona non grata.”