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She’d caught a lot of heat for breaking up Jax Bryant and his then-girlfriend, now-wife, a year ago. Her debut album hadn’t hit any charts, except the duet she did with him. I want to be out of the spotlight, sure, but not at the expense of another person.
She shrugs. “It can’t do much more damage.”
“You’re sure?”
“No,” she admits. “But it’s the right thing to do.”
“There you are.”
I was pleasantly surprised to see Garrett’s car in the driveway when I got back from my lunch with Michaela.
“Here I am,” he grunts, racking weights in my home gym.
A fine sheen of sweat coats his arms as his legs strain to push out the weight at the end of the bar.
“Everything okay?”
He grunts in response.
Guess not.
My attention focuses on the push and pull of his legs on the machine in its rhythmic back and forth.
“Did you need something?”
The tone of his voice has me blinking and shaking off the haze of lust that permeates the room. There are enough pheromones in the air to make me strip and lose myself with him.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe and watching him pause for a beat, adjust the weight again, and resume his repetitions.
“Nothing.”
“Why are you being so pissy?”
“I’m not.”
I try a different tactic instead.
“Why are you home so early?”
“Is my being here cramping your lifestyle too much, Mia?”
Mia. Not Ames.
What the hell?
“What? No. What are you talking about?”
“Do you know what happened when I got to work today?” he asks.
“No.”
“Papparazzi were crawling all over the parking lot. I hadn’t even been in my office for five minutes and two media outlets were calling me for comment.”
“Our wedding is old news by now,” I say.
“It wasn’t about our wedding!” He lunges up off the seat, shifting to another machine.
Jesus, he looks exhausted. “How long have you been in here?”
