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It’s just pretend, after all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

JAMIE

This time, when I drop her at the airport, she cries—only a few tears.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, pulling her into my chest.

She wipes her face, steeling herself. “Nothing. I just wish this was less complicated.”

I wish that, too, but I also know I’ll never stand in the way of her goals. If she still wants to seek representation through ITA, it’s not my place to stop her. And it’s not my place to ask. This is a choice she has to make on her own. Ethically, I can’t sway her in a decision that either way she goes, I gain and lose something.

I fucking know what my heart wants.

She clears her throat, tilting her head to offer a watery smile. I brush her hair back and kiss her, long, deep. When I pull back, my chest is warm, and electricity sizzles between our bodies. Gently, I brush my thumb over her cheekbone.

“You better go, or you’re gonna miss your flight, baby,” I murmur.

She nods, but doesn’t move. I don’t move, either.

What if I took her to Houston with me? What if she never went home? Her flight boards in thirty minutes, and she hasn’t gone through security. When she doesn’t move, I force myself to step back. She wipes her face again and lifts her shoulders. Then, once again, I stand and watch her go.

This time, I don’t handle it as well.

That worries me. Other than when I smashed TJ’s face into the wall and the headlock I put Noah in the other day, I’ve always been able to keep my cool and behave professionally. Since she came around. I’m cracking. Little tiny weaknesses I never saw coming. Now, my priorities are on their head.

I head back to a hotel near the airport. My flight isn’t for another three hours, and I’d like to give Marion a call. First, I need to shower off this morning because I look like I was fucking in a cabin for days. Then, I put on something comfortable for my flights, grab my luggage, and head out to get an Uber. In the backseat, I hit the call button and put the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” Marion says, picking up on the first ring.

“Hey,” I say.

“Nice to hear from you.” She’s not pissed; sounds more like concern.

“I’m good, thanks for letting me take a couple days.”

“I’ve always encouraged you to,” she replies briskly.

Her car door shuts and I wait while her phone connects to the Bluetooth. “Where you headed?”

“Houston,” she says.

“I’m headed to Houston. Is this Lenny?”

“Nope, I got a client who wanted a meeting at Dreamgate.”

I’m quiet for a minute. “Have you heard from Noah Banker at all?”

“I have not. How did that go?”

I release a sigh, and she groans.

“He swung at me, and I put him in a headlock,” I admit, glancing up as my Uber pulls to the curb. I get out and unload my luggage, dragging it through the front doors. “Honestly, I don’t think it was a bad thing in the end.”

She takes a beat. I know she’s not angry because she trusts my judgment, but I also know she’s stressed out.

“Well, he hasn’t called,” she says. “And Madi hasn’t terminated her contract. How did she seem? You talk to her?”