Page 61 of Burn the Script

“When did you get here?” I ask.

“Late last night. Tatum wouldn’t answer her phone, and I spent an hour persuading the manager to give me the room key.”

“Did you put him in a headlock?”

“Her. And no, I had to use another weapon in my arsenal.” He glances at Judge, but before I can ask for all the juicy details, he announces, “We’re rolling out in fifteen.”

Everyone moves. Marcus and Judge exit the suite first to make sure the coast is clear, while Tatum and I say our quick goodbyes to Jake. She blows him a kiss, and I toss him a friendly wink.

The resigned expression on his face is the last thing I see before the door closes behind me. Our group remains quiet, keeping our heads down until we reach the service elevator. Once inside, Tatum and I stand at the back while Marcus and Judge form a barrier between us and the doors.

Aware of the camera in the top corner, she grabs my hand and looks at the floor. “I’m really sorry. No one told me they were calling you.”

“This is what we do, but you’re supposed to be staying out of trouble and out of sight.” Leaning down, I whisper, “Was it worth it?”

“If things don’t work out with Jake this time, at least I’ll have last night. I’ve waited ten years to feel that happy again.”

With an arm over her shoulders, I tug her against my side. “You and Jake will be fine. The fates may give us obstacles to overcome, but they don’t mess around when assigning soulmates.”

She offers me a shaky smile. “We’ll see.”

We reach the employee area of the parking garage, and Judge rushes ahead to open the car door for Tatum. After Marcus reminds us of the plan, and Tatum and I are tucked inside the vehicle I arrived in, we set off.

She groans, slouching in her seat. “Thank the gods we don’t have to walk through the crowd.”

“I took care of that part. All you have to do is give the performance of a lifetime through the window.”

Sitting up, she wraps her arms around my neck as the car breaches the throng of her fans. “I owe you one.”

“You gave me four years with my prince. Playing yours one last time is the least I can do.”

As I hold her in a tight embrace, I think of the years we spent presenting ourselves as a couple and how we both reaped the benefits. It wasn’t a tit-for-tat arrangement. From the start, we’ve given each other undying support along with unwavering loyalty. If one of us had a need, the other stepped up and fulfilled it.

There was only one time she outright asked me for a favor, and it nearly cost me Miguel.

26

GRAHAM

THEN

October, Year Three

“Darling?”

Miguel didn’t greet me with a soul-searing kiss, which I’d anticipated after being gone for weeks. I texted him when my flight landed but got no response. As I closed the front door, only silence welcomed me home.

I abandoned my suitcase in the foyer and searched, starting with the spare bedroom where he spent hours at his sewing machine. All the lights were off downstairs, and there was no sign of him. No hammering needle and no music. Heading upstairs, I took the steps two at time.

“Miguel, I’m home!”

Strong scents of lemon and bleach wafted from the kitchen. The cleaning service would have come on Wednesday, three days ago, which meant Miguel gave the kitchen a thorough scrubbing himself. Not a good sign.

I rushed to our bedroom and came to a dead stop, like hitting an invisible wall. All the air left my lungs, forced out by relief and the sight of him sitting in the oversized chair near our bedroom window.

The setting sun cast a golden hue on his furrowed brow, and I couldn’t think of a time when he looked more handsome. He hadn’t noticed me, so I stared until my heart couldn’t take another second of separation. Every stretch of time I spent away from him felt longer than the previous one.

My feet closed the distance. I knelt before him and pinched his chin, kissing his soft lips, breathing him in. His hair was damp, and he wore pajamas despite the early hour.