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***
My head feels as if it’s been borrowed from someone else, and my throat feels as though a barbecue had been held there last night. I dare to crack one eye open, and the effort alone makes me want to shed tears. I close it and try and fall back asleep, but I need water.
My throat is on fire. I force my eyes open again and gently remove Kyle’s hand from my waist. The movement doesn’t wake him up, which does not surprise me. We slept very late, and the antics we got up to can easily knock a man out for a week.
I cast a loving look at him as I slowly get out of the huge bed. As soon I stand, a wave of dizziness comes over me, and I quickly sit down at the edge of the bed and stay very still. After five minutes, it goes away, but now my throat is throbbing. I get up slowly and head to the bathroom to grab a bathrobe.
In the small kitchen, I grab a water bottle from the fridge and return to the living room. I need a distraction from the swirl of nausea in my stomach. I turn on the TV and at first, I’m sure that my mind is playing mind games with me.
I blink rapidly and try to figure out why Kyle and I would be on the screen, clad in the clothes we were wearing yesterday. Then big words come on screen. Secret Vegas wedding. I want to giggle because they have it so wrong, but it’s not funny. I feel violated. I didn’t see anyone take pictures of us. Several pictures flash across the screen. Kyle and I staring into each other’s eyes, Kyle and I walking out of the chapel hand in hand. I press the volume button to increase it. The news anchor says it’s not verified, but they suspect that Kyle Bryce has married his lover in Las Vegas.
“Morning,” Kyle’s voice says as he walks into the room. “I woke up, and you were gone …” He rubs his eyes and stares at the screen. “What is that? Is that us?”
He sits next to me on the couch and takes a swig of my water.
“Yes,” I tell him with a sigh. “It seems that some sneaky person took our picture, and now they think we were the ones getting married.”
“That’s one mistake I don’t mind them making,” he says.
The reporter says something about interviewing one of Kyle Bryce’s very good friends and costar, Skyler. She comes on screen and the reporter interviewing her asks what she thinks about the alleged wedding.
She smiles coyly at the camera. “Not true,” she says, and the reporter sensing a story, goes for the kill.
“Why do you say so, Miss Skyler?” he quickly asks.
“First of all, I know that Kyle Bryce is not in a relationship with that woman.”
My jaw drops. I’m seething inside, though I try to keep cool. That woman?
“I shouldn’t say this because we haven’t agreed to talk to the media, but Kyle and I have a little something going on between us. I don’t want to say too much because it’s still very new and fragile ...”
All I see is red. I stare at Kyle in disbelief and shock and, to be honest, hurt. Has he been going on with her behind my back while they’ve been filming? She’s speaking with so much confidence. I remember the comment I’d made that Skyler is professional and would not hit on Kyle during filming. I feel like a complete idiot.
“Is it true what they say about you and your leading men?” the reporter asks, breaking into my thoughts.
She laughs again. “What can I say? I find all of them so sexy, but I have a feeling this will be my last one. He’s special.”
“Bullshit!” Kyle explodes and jumps to his feet. He goes to the bedroom, and when he returns, he has his phone with him. He jabs at it to turn it on. He makes a call, and while he waits for it to be picked up, he paces up and down the room.
Then he seems to remember my presence.
“I hope you know that she’s lying.”
I don’t know what to think, and my look communicates just that. Logic tells me that someone would not lie about something like that. Skyler is a grown woman, not a fifteen-year-old girl.
Kyle is about to say something, but his attention is taken by the phone. “Can you find out what the fuck is going on with Skyler? Why is she lying about us when she knows very well that our only relationship is professional?”
He listens for a few minutes and then comes to sit next to me. He takes my hand, but I pull it away. I’m not ready to open myself up to him again. I need to know that I’m not making a fool of myself. I feel so vulnerable and helpless.
