“And divorced again two years later, yes.” Paris smirked. “I wouldn’t say I blame the public. No. We all are responsible for our own fate and happiness. But I know firsthand the strain fame puts on relationships early on, and I wanted to experience love without the constant pressure.”
“So you decided to keep your love life secret.”
“As much as possible, yes.”
“Which led to a large amount of speculation.”
Paris merely smiled.
Renner picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and began reading. “You're presumed to have dated Allan Caspian, at least six of your costars, Governor Figueroa, and the governor’s husband, Felix Figueroa. I even have an article here claiming you were part of a three-way relationship with the Figueroas. Another newspaper has speculated that you’ve been spending your heats at sex resorts abroad. And recently, we’ve all heard the rumors about you and Lothair Courtemanche.”
“Lothair and I are good friends.”
“You keep saying that, yes.”
Paris laughed. “Lothair knows I’ve been happily married all these years.”
Renner gaped, his eyebrows hiking up theatrically. “Married?”
Paris looked to the side, and the camera zoomed out. Boone walked onto the stage, his impressive frame appearing even larger in a simple dark suit. He looked only at Paris. He sat down next to him and grabbed his hand.
Paris turned toward the audience. “My husband, Boone Hawthorne.”
The crowd in the studio went crazy, shrieking excitedly. Boone kissed the back of Paris’s hand while Paris gave himone of his rare, genuine smiles. While the crowd kept clapping and stomping, Renner turned toward the cameras and helplessly threw his hands in the air.
It took several minutes for the people in the studio to calm down. The interview continued after a commercial break. Renner challenged Paris, asking him whether he felt he’d been deceiving his fans all these years, but Paris managed to sidestep the trap. The rest of the talk show revolved around how Boone and Paris met and how Boone handled the secrecy. Boone barely said two words, but he appeared composed and steady at Paris’s side.
Overall, it seemed like the news would be accepted with grace and even enthusiasm, but we couldn’t know for sure until the major outlets ran the story.
The credits rolled, and I turned the TV off. Terry massaged my nape with his fingers, and I closed my eyes.
“I think it might work,” Terry said. “If Carlos throws the pics on top of this, he’d be attacking the privacy of a happy couple and not exposing a sex scandal.”
“Maybe.”
Terry combed through my hair. “How are you feeling, baby? You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine. Just annoyed.”
“Why?”
“Regardless of what Carlos does, it’ll come out that you and I are together sooner or later. You’ll hate the attention.”
“I’ll live. It’s not that important.”
“It’ll be important when people harass you in the street.”
“I can take care of myself.”
I glanced at him, once again marveling at how pretty he was. Terry was the proverbial golden boy. The mediawould adore him—before they would inevitably make his life hell.
“I know you can. But you keep making sacrifices for me. What Paris said about fame and relationships, it’s true.”
He leaned in and kissed my lips, lingering for a few breaths. He didn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, he pulled back and cupped my cheek, scraping through my stubble with his thumb.
“It’s not either or, Lothair. The things I’m losing are nothing compared to what I’ve gained. I’ve made a few adjustments at work. So what? Maybe I won’t go shopping in malls anymore when people start recognizing me. As if I’ve ever enjoyed that. It’s not a big deal.”
“I love you, Terry. I need you happy with me.”
