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“This is the story of how I fell in love with my best friend…”
Chapter Fifteen
MIA
TWO YEARS LATER
If you haven’t seen The Queen’s Consort, where have you been? Action, romance, and even a little humor, which is why, out of the seven awards it was nominated for at last night’s Cinematic Awards, The Queen’s Consort won them all! From director Cole Edwards, to the gorgeous costume designs, and surprising newcomer, Callum Parsons, winning Best Actor for his passionate portrayal of Thomas Seymour. But the star of the night? Mia Maddox, owning the red carpet in off-white Valentino. Maddox was all smiles as she took the stage for her Best Actress award. And if she got a little teary-eyed? Husband, Garrett, was right there with her.
“I wasn’t teary-eyed,” Garrett mutters, reading over my shoulder.
“Shush.” I bump him with my shoulder. “I’m still reading. ‘Mia is set to star in her next role—’ Hey!” I yell as he grabs my cell phone and tosses it on his nightstand.
“You don’t need to read it,” he tells me, and his lips brush my shoulder. “You’re living it.”
“I am,” I confirm. “And I couldn’t be happier.”
When I’d called Fiona and told her I couldn’t join them in Ireland, I fully expected to lose the role of Catherine. But I wasn’t willing to sacrifice Garrett for a role—even if it was everything I wanted. Before I opened my eyes and saw Garrett.
Imagine my surprise when Fiona called me a week later to tell me that Tucker was no longer part of production, and they were looking back through the actors who had auditioned for the part. Two days later, news had broken of Tucker being caught with a sixteen-year-old girl in his hotel room. Between the sex tape he had filmed without Michaela’s consent and the sixteen-year-old girl who had given a statement that he wouldn’t let her leave, that was it.
Goodbye, Tucker.
A month later, I was flying to Ireland to meet up with Fiona, Cole, and Callum Parsons. Callum had done Broadway, but The Queen’s Consort was his first film. The three months without Garrett had been brutal. He couldn’t leave, having fully taken over Arabesque, so we spent a lot of hours on FaceTime and the phone. He’d surprised me with a visit during our last few days of filming, and we’d spent a week after filming wrapped honeymooning in Dublin.
“What are you thinking about?” His voice vibrates against my ear as his arms wrap around my waist and tug me back against his chest.
“Dublin,” I say, snuggling back against him.
He groans, and I feel his dick twitch against my ass.
“Think you could get away for another trip?” I ask.
“I think I can make it happen.” He drags open-mouthed kisses across my shoulder to nip at my neck.
“Soon?” I ask, arching back against him.
“Don’t you have that new rom-com shooting soon?” He trails his fingers down my side and back up, pulling up the tank I slept in.
One warm palm scrapes against my nipple, and my thoughts scatter.
“Um…” I reach up and back, arching to push myself more fully against him.
“Next month, right?”
How can he have a conversation right now? My thoughts swirl around me, the words I need to tell him shimmering, disappearing, until all I want is him. His body. His passion.
Mine.
Spinning in his arms, I press my breasts against his chest and slant my lips across his. His hands flex against my ass, rubbing me against his erection, and I moan, tangling my tongue with his as I shift my hips.
Straddling him, I sit up and whip my tank off, then trace the sculpted planes of his chest with my fingers.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, his hands reeling me against him until he can capture my mouth in another kiss.
“I love you,” I whisper against his lips.
“Love you,” he says, tugging at my shorts until, between the two of us, we manage to get them off to get lost in the sheets around us.
