Hell,cutewas an understatement. She was gorgeous. Butgorgeous women were a dime-a-dozen in his world. Brinton had somethingelse.
She asked one hell of a good question about being authentic in his own life. It was rare that someone in Jamie’s orbit cared whathethought, let alone encouraged him to say it aloud.
His team only cared about building hislegacy.
Of course, Brinton couldn’t have known that. Still, for a few moments, her question almost prompted Jamie to tell her the truth about his life.
It would have detonated his entire career, but at least he would have a clear conscience.
Would Brinton have wanted to help make that happen? The question yanked at something buried deeply in Jamie’s chest. Then again, he probably wouldn’t see her again.
Breaking his reverie, “Table for One” blared over the speakers. That was when Jamie noticed everyone was staring at him. Their faces were stretched with excitement, and they cheered like he had won a Grammy.
Did I just win a damn Grammy?
Enveloped by a roar of cheers, Jamie slowly stood and stumbled down the crowded aisle. He wanted to run away, but the congratulatory slaps on his back propelled him forward.
When the caution-taped pop star handed him his trophy, he kept his eyes glued to hers, despite the magnetic pull of those pasties.
“Holy sh—” Jamie breathed into the microphone, catching himself.
So much for mentally checking out.
Dread tightened the muscles at the base of his neck. He rubbed the warm spot with his free hand, but it didn’t help. He was so damn overwhelmed.
“I—um—can’t believe this,” he began.
This was a nightmare.
“I want to sincerely thank the fans,” Jamie continued. “You know, my father won this same award in nineteen eighty. When I was writing these songs, under his guidance…”
The words soured and clung to Jamie’s tongue. What if he broke the cycle of lies? He could scrape up the dignity he had left. He could tell the world the truth.
He exhaled deeply. His chest ached as his heartbeat quickened. Suddenly, the air was too thick.
No—the Grammys stage wasn’t the right place. It would be too easy for his intentions to be misconstrued. He had to find another way.
“I’m so grateful that the fans love these songs as much as I do,” Jamie said, submitting to his team’s approved talking points.
Extending more obligatory thank-yous, Jamie backed away from the mic stand. But as the spotlight—or, the light of inspiration—beamed down, he doubled back.
When he glanced down to his socked feet, the crowd exploded with cheers. Right.
How to explain that?
“I’d also like to thank Brinton Shaw. You might be my good luck charm. Though, you owe me a new pair of boots.”
It was no Edible Arrangement, but it was something. He wanted Brinton to know he was thinking of her, and that he hoped she was all right. For now, it was the best he could do.
Jamie hoisted the gilded gramophone into the air and gave a practiced smile. It should have been the best night of his career. This was his father’s plan.
But Jamie was a fraud. Soon, everybody else would know too.
CHAPTER TWO
THREE MONTHS LATER
Despite the cold pool of drool beneath her cheek, Brinton intended to enjoy the last forty minutes before her alarm sounded. Since becoming an internet sensation, deep sleep was increasingly rare. Instead, she spent nights googling herself, a search and rescue mission for her self-worth.
