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"You must be Em!” She beams at me, smiling wide with perfect, white teeth. I thought the British were supposed to have bad teeth. Ugh, and I love her accent. It's impossible for me to hate someone with a British accent. It's just so posh and mellifluous. As a kid, I watched as many movies as I could where the actors had British accents. I think I watched Ever After every day for an entire summer, not only because it was a Cinderella retelling and introduced me to the idea of French kissing, but because I loved listening to the dialogue. Plus, you know, Drew Barrymore is awesome.
God, Tyra has a great voice. "Ryan has told me so much about you. I've just arrived and am fresh from the airport. I hope you don't mind me stopping in. He gave me your information, and I wanted to talk."
I'm at a loss for words. Tyra Price is hugging me and talking like we are old friends. What the actual fuck is happening?
My body naturally stands aside, letting her into the condo and I mumble something about her calling me Avery. She takes off her shoes and jacket and strolls right over to the windows to gaze out of them. Everyone always does. It's a great view.
I mentally take stock of myself. I'm wearing frigging yoga pants and a t-shirt, I have no makeup on, and I probably look like a homeless person compared to the movie star in my living room. I repeat, the movie star in my living room.
"What a view!" Tyra smiles. "The Northmen must pay you a king's ransom. But you're worth it! I've seen what you and Holly Sparks have done with the team. I should hire you to do my PR. I have a feeling I'll be needing someone soon."
Something like worry crosses Tyra's face, but it's gone in a flash, and she's smiling again.
"You must be wondering what I am doing here."
"The thought did cross my mind."
"You're even prettier in person than in the pictures Ryan showed me of you two together."
Why would Ryan show his girlfriend pictures of me? It makes no sense.Ryan, you have no game if you thought showing your current girlfriend pictures of your ex was a good idea.How stupid is that? I mean, why would he do that?
"Can we sit?"
"Sure." I lead Tyra to the couch, then head off to the kitchen and grab us something to sip. I love blood orange-flavoured sparkling water. Between the Skittles and the fruity water, I clearly have a sweet tooth.
"Thanks." Tyra smiles again before leaving an awkward silence between us. I look at her. She looks at me. We look at each other. This. Is. So. Awkward. "I'm not sure where to start. I saw the media scrum the other night on SportsCentre." She rolls her eyes as if annoyed by Ryan's defence of her. "Ryan is loyal to a fault. He's been my closest friend since I came to Hollywood. He's a good man."
I swallow the burning lump of jealousy in my throat. I know Ryan is a good man. He is the best man. He deserves someone as beautiful and genuinely kind as Tyra. I want to hate her. I really do, but I just can't. She's too damned nice. I know this instinctively, and I just met her five seconds ago. She's not here to rub anything in my face or gloat. But I have no idea why she's sitting on my couch.
I nod, encouraging her to continue. Naturally, my hand goes to the necklace under my tank top, worrying the rings there between my fingers. Tyra's eyes follow my movements, making me feel self-conscious.
"I hope you know Ryan is here for you and that he and I are just friends."
"You dated for two years," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Not that it's any of my business. Ryan can do what he pleases."
"It is your business, Avery. It's your business because he's never stopped loving you, and you're clearly still in love with him."
"You've known me for all of what? Two minutes," I snap. "I don't see how you can know who I love and who I don't."
"Why do you still have the rings he gave you?"
I recoil. How does she know the rings around my neck are from Ryan? This is a rare occasion that the rings are visible. Most of the time, they're hidden under my clothing.
"It was just a guess, but I think I'm right from your reaction."
"What does it matter to you? If you're here to warn me off, don't bother. He's all yours. I'm not right for him. He may think he wants me, but believe me, he doesn't."
"I very much doubt that," Tyra says, drawing her eyebrows together in confusion. At least I'm not the only one. "I'm not here to try and take Ryan back. He will always be a very close friend, but that's all he ever was, and all he will ever be. I just want him to be happy."
"I don't understand." I really don't. Ryan and Tyra were Hollywood's number-one sweethearts for over two years. You could fill an encyclopedia with all the pictures the paparazzi took of them dating, cuddling, getting cozy at award shows, and even kissing.
"Ryan and I were never a couple," she sighs. "We've always had a connection, but it's more of a brother-sister feeling. We have a lot in common. When we met, we were both living in a big city full of fake, vapid, and judgemental people, and we were drawn to each other. Over time, we grew close, and Ryan, being the loyal friend that he is, has been protecting me from close-minded people, fans, agents, and film executives who are pretty much holding my career hostage."
"What do you mean?"
"Ryan and I were only ever a media couple. Like a contract boyfriend but without the contract and NDA. We did it to make my agent and the directors and producers I work for happy."
I stare at Tyra, trying to digest this information. It's not sinking in. There is no possible way Tyra and Ryan's relationship was platonic. They are two of the hottest people on the planet. There is no way any woman could resist falling in love with Ryan. Unless—
