Page 12 of Now Their Starlet

“I get it,” I huff, leaning back so the edge of the vanity digs into my back. “I have one too... well, I guess had now ‘cause there’s no way my mom would let me continue going. She helped me figure out a lot of stuff.”

“Look at us. Talking about therapy. Who would’ve thought?”

A startled laugh leaves me. The first lighthearted sound I’ve made the entire week.

“I mean, I don’t think my mom or your dad would’ve approved of that sorta thing before. I had to hide my sessions from my mom—specifically chose a therapist with an office in the same building as a beauty spa so that when she checked my location, she’d think I was there instead.”

“Pretty sure if my dad knew that I was talking to my therapist, about him half the time, instead of just talking about the addiction and drug issues, he’d cut me off or something.”

“Sounds like him,” I sigh.

One of the things the two of us bonded over was our overcontrolling, fame-hungry, batshit insane parents. My mom and his dad are pieces of work. There’s no other way to describe them. Looks like some things do stay the same.

Our parents and the way we vent to each other about them.

Ezra goes quiet, his expression softening ever so slightly. Is he thinking about the way we used to do this as kids, too?

“How... how were you after... everything? Before this, of course,” he asks slowly, taking long pauses as if he’s not sure if he should even be asking the question. “You don’t have to talk about it—if you don’t want to. But... I want to know.”

“Good, actually. Really good.” The answer leaves my lips easily. It’s the truth. The few months after Ezra and I broke up were the best few months of my life. I think I lived more in that short period of time than I have in the rest of my life combined.

“Because of the male omega?” He’s doing the same tapping exercise against his arm, but his voice is even and controlled. Not accusatory, like it was back in my apartment all those months ago. Ezra sounds genuinely curious.

“Not just because of him,” I say automatically.

My eyes widen ever so slightly at the admission, and I avert my gaze.

Shoot. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. That’s not public information. I’m also not sure if I can fully trust Ezra. What if he lets it slip to Gina somehow? I’m not sure what she’d do with that information, but I have a terrible feeling she’ll use anything she thinks is important to me against me.

That’s always how she’s been in moods like these.

“Not just him, huh?” Ezra repeats. “You found yourself a pack, didn’t you, Andi.”

“Maybe,” I mumble.

“No need to be ashamed about it, it’s your life. Do they treat you well?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they do,” I nod. “It’s... still early. We’re all still growing and learning how we fit with each other, you know?”

My chamomile scent turns acrid, and my lower lip wobbles at the thought of my guys. I shove down my feelings with the last bite of the pathetic salad, relishing the bitter taste this time.

As much as I appreciate Ezra’s new, calmer demeanor, I’d still find the strength I don’t have to chuck him out of this two-story window if it meant seeing my guys again. The reminder that I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again leaves my inner omega thrashing against the walls of my skull.

“Don’t... Don’t tell my mom, okay? Please? She doesn’t know,” I whisper. “She’d fucking freak. She’s never liked the idea of packs, for whatever reason.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Ezra nods, his expression growing serious. “Promise.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do... especially cause...” Ezra shakes his head. For the first time since we’ve started this strange, familiar-but-awkward heart to heart, he averts his gaze.

I know that expression.

He looks guilty.

“What?” I bite out, setting the small ceramic dish on the tray without looking away from him. It makes a louder clatter than I intended, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Ezra. Tell me.”

“My dad and your mom... they want us to pretend to be together again.”