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Trevor came out on the deck balancing a white leather tray with margarita glasses and a matching pitcher. He gallantly ignored the tears trickling from beneath her sunglasses. “The bar is officially open.”
“Thanks, pal.” She took the frosty margarita from him and swiped at her cheeks as he turned away to set the tray on the white patio table. She couldn’t talk to him about the sonogram. Even her best friends didn’t realize how much having a baby meant to her. That pain had been a secret one. A secret today’s photos would expose to the world.
“We wrapped Cake Walk last Friday,” she said. “Another bomb.” She couldn’t afford three box-office flops in a row, and that’s what she’d have once Cake Walk was released. She set her drink on the deck without tasting it. “Dad’s really upset about this six-month vacation I’m taking.”
He sank into a molded plastic tulip chair. “You’ve been working practically since you came out of the womb. Paul needs to cut you some slack.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen all right.”
“You know the way I feel about how he pushes you. I’m not saying another word.”
“Don’t.” She was already too familiar with Trev’s generally accurate opinion of her difficult relationship with her father. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them tight to her stomach. “Divert me with some good gossip.”
“My costar gets crazier every day. If I even think about doing another film with that woman, kill me.” He adjusted his chair so his shaved head was in the shade. “Did you know she and Bram used to date?”
Her stomach clenched. “Birds of a feather.”
“He’s house-sitting—”
She held up her hand. “Stop. I can’t talk about Bramwell Shepard. Especially not today.” Bram would have watched her get trampled to death this afternoon and never lost the smile on his face. God, she hated him, even after all these years.
Trev mercifully changed the subject without questioning her. “You saw last week’s USA Today poll, right? Favorite sitcom heroines? Scooter Brown came in third after Lucy and Mary Tyler Moore. You even beat out Barbara Eden.”
She’d seen the poll and couldn’t bring herself to care. “I hate Scooter Brown.”
“You’re the only one who does. She’s an icon. It’s anti-American not to love her.”
“The series has been off the air for eight years. Why can’t everybody let it go?”
“Maybe those perpetual reruns blasting out all over the globe have something to do with it?”
She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “I was a kid when the show started, only fifteen. And barely twenty-three when it ended.”
He took in her red eyes but didn’t comment on them. “Scooter Brown is ageless. Every woman’s best friend. Every man’s favorite virgin.”
“But I’m not Scooter Brown. I’m Georgie York. My life belongs to me, not to the world.”
“Good luck with that.”
She couldn’t let herself do this any longer. Perpetually reacting to external forces. Unable to set her own counterforces in motion. Always acted upon. Never acting. She drew her knees closer and studied the rainbows she’d asked her manicurist to paint on her toenails in the vain hope of cheering herself up. If she didn’t do this now, she never would. “Trev, what would you think about you and me having a little—a big romance?”
“Romance?”
“The two of us.” She couldn’t look at him, and she kept her eyes on the rainbows. “Falling very publicly in love. And…maybe—” She pushed out the words. “Trev, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time…I know you’re going to think it’s crazy. It is crazy. But…If you don’t hate the idea, I was thinking…we should at least consider the possibility of…getting married.”
“Married?” Trevor’s feet hit the deck.
He was one of her dearest friends, but her cheeks burned. Still, what was one more monumentally humiliating moment in a year filled with them? She unlocked her arms from her knees. “I know I shouldn’t be dumping this on you out of nowhere. And I know it’s weird. Really weird. I felt that way when I first started thinking about it, but when I considered it objectively, I couldn’t see a big downside.”
“Georgie, I’m gay.”
“You’re rumored to be gay.”
“I’m also really gay.”
“But you’re so deep in the closet hardly anybody knows.” The fresh scrape on her ankle stung as she eased her legs over the side of the chaise. “This would finally put an end to the rumors. Face it, Trev. If the frat-boy crowd ever finds out you’re playing for their team, your career is gone.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” He rubbed his hand over his shaved head. “Georgie, your life is a circus, and as much as I adore you, I don’t want to be dragged into the center ring.”
