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“My stuff?”
“Duh,” I tell him. “If we’re married, then we should probably live together. I figured my house was the better option.”
He steps back, and I immediately miss the woodsy smell of whatever his soap is. When he stands there looking at me, I stare back at him.
“What?”
“Ames, if I’m going to get dressed, maybe you could give me some privacy?”
Ooh.
“Oh, yeah. Meet you in our room, hubby.” I give him a wink and saunter out of the bathroom.
It doesn’t take long for Garrett to get dressed or for us to pack up and check out of the room. Getting to the car undiscovered fails spectacularly, and lights dance in my eyes from all the flashes as I sit in the passenger seat.
“That was fun,” he grits out.
“Aww, poor baby,” I tease, resting my hand on his thigh. “That was barely the warm-up. The main event will be once we get home.”
“Great,” he mutters. “Can’t wait.”
He puts the car in gear, and it isn’t long before we leave Sin City behind us and cruise south on I-15.
“What’s the plan once we get back?” he asks, and I stop fidgeting with the radio.
“Plan?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, I’m moving in with you, but what about a statement? Interviews? What are we going to tell people?”
“Um. I figured we could come up with something.” Garrett’s the planner. Not me. I’m the spontaneous one.
“We have about four hours to figure out something,” he reminds me. “First, I’ll start by saying I’m not comfortable having your agent draft a statement for us.”
“Roni?”
“Exactly. She may speak for Fucker, but she doesn’t speak for me. And you damn sure shouldn’t let her speak for you either.”
Garrett doesn’t usually let much get to him, and he almost always concedes to whatever I want, so the passion in his voice tells me how serious he is.
“I—” Roni has been my agent since I started in Hollywood. She “discovered” me. Didn’t that earn her my loyalty?
Then again, she’s already shown that she isn’t as concerned about my image as Tucker’s, based on the statements she’d provided for our mutual breakup and his stupid shenanigans comment.
“Ames?”
“I’m thinking,” I respond. “You’re right. But then who’s going to draft our statement?”
“Why can’t we?” he asks with a quick glance sent my way.
“I guess we could.” I’d heard of other actors and actresses not using an agent, but I’d never questioned Roni’s role before. Maybe it’s time to start. “One more thing.”
“Shoot.”
“People know me as Mia. Not Amelia or Ames.”
“Okay?”
“It would probably be better if you called me Mia. At least when we’re in public.”
