21.Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Bonnie

Being an only child of working parents, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have siblings or even a tight-knit family. It’s one part of acting that I’ve never quite been able to grasp because it’s not something I’ve seen, and not even my friends can help me. Derek is an only child and isn’t close to his parents, who divorced when he was a preteen. Liam was raised by a single mom. Cole lost his mom as a baby and only has his dad and grandfather in his life. Though Freya has two younger brothers, being royals sort of negates their claim on having a so-called “typical” family.

Sitting with Houston’s family at dinner is like a crash course on family dynamics, though they seem to have pretty healthy relationships from what I can tell. Brooklyn, Houston’s twin, isn’t nearly as talkative as her brother but manages to roast him quite thoroughly in her speech, ending it all with the highest praise. Chad does pretty much the same thing, though most of his teasing stories are from when Houston was little because Chad, who is significantly older than Houston, practically raised his younger siblings. He starts crying at the end of his speech, and Houston tears up too, though they both start laughing about it a second later. Micah, true to her sunny personality, has nothing but good things to say about her brother, and she practically has stars in her eyes as she wishes him a happy life with his new bride. They all clearly love each other and would do anything for one another.

I wonder if my parents would have had more kids if they could have afforded it. How different would my life have been if I’d had someone else to play with? Being imaginative isn’t entirely a solo activity, so maybe I would have still made up stories and acted them out, but would it have become my entire personality like it is now?

It’s almost terrifying to think of a life other than my own, which is irony at its finest. My whole job is pretending I’m living a different life, and I really don’t want to deal with a mid-life crisis right now. Not when I’m finally in the role of a lifetime and on the cusp of becoming something I’ve dreamed of my whole life.

When Carissa gets up to toast her sister and new brother-in-law, I take hold of Hank’s hand and try to find some confidence from his hold. Honestly, I haven’t wanted to let go all evening, though I’m sure he’s getting sick of me by this point since we haven’t been apart since last night. Even my favorite extrovert, Liam, generally can’t handle me for longer than twelve hours or so. But Hank hasn’t made any moves to get some space.

Though he keeps his eyes on Carissa, Hank leans closer to me. “Everything okay?”

Suddenly I’m both blushing and on the verge of tears, and I try to cover the ridiculousness by taking a sip of water. I’ve never had anyone understand me as well as Hank seems to. It’s making it difficult to sit still in my seat and focus on the wedding toasts. Do I deserve this? Do I deserve him? This relationship isn’t real, but what if it was? What if we were simply here to celebrate a mutual friend and enjoy ourselves rather than being under scrutiny for something that isn’t real?

I clear my throat and pretend I’m just a regular wedding guest with my regular friend next to me. My friend who somehow reads my body language and understands the things I don’t say. My friend who has given up his privacy and free time to help me. My friend who held my hand all night, who looks amazing in a suit, who keeps giving me looks that aren’t quite platonic every time his eyes stray to my dress.

Those looks have been giving me life through this wedding dinner out in the gardens outside the hotel. I am so ready to dance with this man and hold him close and maybe tell him how much I want to keep him, even if that’s terrifying.

I smile, glad when Hank relaxes next to me. I’m pretty sure he has figured out when my smiles are real, which is just another thing to love about… My smile falters. Love? Did I really just think that?

Based on the way my heart starts up a frantic rhythm, I definitely thought about love. I haven’t known Hank long enough to actually be in love with him—I don’t even know what love feels like—but I think I took a hard fall in that direction last night.

What if I mess it up? What if it falls apart like everything else seems to and leaves me heartbroken?

Hank frowns. “Bonnie?”

I can’t bear to look at him right now, so I look at Houston instead, trying to sort through my thoughts as tears well up in my eyes. I know I realized last night that I want this relationship to be real, but that’s not the same as falling in love. My relationship with Houston was real, but I never loved him. I never looked at him the way Darcy is looking at him while he gives his own speech, like he is everything good in the world.

I’ve never been brave enough to want something that will last .

Ugh, why am I crying over this? Hank looking at me with attraction should be a good thing! He has played the perfect boyfriend today, and that can’t all be fake. There has to be a part of him that likes me enough to consider this thing between us turning into more than a contract. Right? I shouldn’t be thinking of all the ways it can go wrong.

The other guests start applauding, signaling the end of Houston’s speech, and somewhere an orchestra starts playing. Houston helps Darcy to her feet, kissing her soundly to more applause, and they lead the way to another section of the gardens, where I’m hoping there’s a dance floor and with it an excuse to hold Hank close the rest of the night and let him shut out the world for me so I can stop thinking myself into a spiral.

Hank’s worried look doesn’t falter as we sit and wait for the other guests to get up first, and he’s just so downright adorable that it hurts to look at him. How is he so perfect? He’s too perfect.

I’m going to ruin him. No matter how much I want something real with him, I don’t know how to get close to someone. To open my heart enough to let them in. My own friends barely know anything about me, and I have no room to complain about Derek keeping things from me when I’m the exact same.

I picked a life of fame because I knew it would give me an excuse to hide my real feelings.

What if that fame means I’ll never be able to have something real? Hank can’t want my life. To constantly be watched and scrutinized and judged for being human. How can I ask him to be a part of that when I know he wants something quiet?

“Bonnie, you’re worrying me,” Hank says, and he sounds so genuinely concerned that it makes my heart throb.

I can’t handle it. Tugging my hand free, I slip from my chair and dart into the gardens, feet crunching on the gravel pathway as I go. I don’t even know where I’m going, and I know Eli is going to be hot on my heels, but I need space from Hank until I can figure out —

“Bonnie!” So much for space. Hank is right behind me, catching up quickly because he’s not in heels. Though he doesn’t touch me, his anguished voice pulls me to a stop anyway. “What happened? What did I do?”

I almost laugh, and though I search for my best escape, I can’t bring myself to go anywhere. I feel pulled toward him like a magnet. “You didn’t—”

“I’m doing my best not to think you’re crying because of Houston, but I’m failing. He caused this or I did, and I don’t like either of those options.”

I’ve never heard him talk this forcefully, and I can’t help but look at him. His breaths are ragged and his eyes are wild, and there’s still that hint of desire behind his pained expression, like he can’t help how he feels when he looks at me. That’s not the kind of thing a person can easily act.

“You think I’m hung up on Houston?” I whisper. My voice is so much smaller than his, but it’s about all I have the strength for. All of this is too much.

It’s this place. The garden teems with flowers of all shapes and sizes, a kaleidoscope of color buzzing with bees in the golden light of sunset coming off the red hills beyond the city. The aroma of dinner melds with the floral air surrounding me, carried by the breeze. It may be March, but Sun City always holds the warmth of summer and a peaceful kind of life that I’ve never found in Los Angeles.

It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and Hank stands in the middle of it all. I’ve felt that peace with him. That warmth. It’s like he carries it with him everywhere he goes.

He runs a hand through his hair and scoffs. I’ve never seen him this ruffled. “So I’m the problem,” he guesses. “I thought we… What did I do wrong?”

Movement behind him catches my eye, but it’s just Eli. He seems to be taking in the situation, but he doesn’t get any closer once he realizes I’m safe. I’m both grateful and annoyed that he won’t get between me and this perfect man to save me from these feelings that feel too big.

Shaking my head, I start pacing because it gives me a reason to not look at Hank. I’m worried that if I do, I’ll break. My heart is already pounding, my hands shaking as I fight the urge to throw myself into his arms where I know I’ll feel safe and protected. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hank. I promise.”

“Okay.” There is anything but acceptance in that word. “I know it’s been a while since I dated, but I’m pretty sure running away from your date isn’t a sign that things are going well.”

I groan. He’s not getting it. “This isn’t a real date!” I wince, looking around to make sure there isn’t anyone nearby to overhear us. Eli does the same. But then my eyes land on Hank again, and his expression leaves me frozen. There’s so much happening in his eyes, everything from hurt and frustration to determination and hope. Desire .

He takes a single step forward, and that one step lights a fire beneath me, warming me from my core outward until I’m convinced the flowers around me might catch the flames. “What if it were real?” he asks, taking another step.

I swallow. “This date?”

He nods with the next step. “This date. This relationship. What if…” His eyes slide down my dress again, agonizingly slowly, and then fix on my mouth before rising back up to meet my eyes. A fire burns in his gaze to match the burning in my chest. “Bonnie, I don’t want to pretend anymore. Please tell me you don’t either.”

I shake my head. It’s about the only thing I can manage because he just said words I didn’t realize I was desperate for him to say.

Hank’s determination slips as he furrows his brow, his steps faltering. “What does that mean?”

I shake my head again, even though I know that isn’t clearing anything up. “Hank…” His name comes out in a whisper. If I say what I want to sa y, I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know how this will end, and that’s terrifying. There’s no script for a relationship with a man I never planned for. I swallow. “I don’t want to pretend.”

He exhales, and then he’s taking hold of me and bringing his mouth to mine.

I melt. There’s no other word for it. Something about Hank’s kiss changes my entire state of being until I’m nothing but a part of him, melded to him in a way I’ve never been before. He kisses with confidence, but not in a commanding way. It’s…honest. His lips move against mine like he’s trying to say everything he can’t say with words, and I melt .

Gripping the lapels of his jacket, I respond to his unspoken words and add my own, asking for more. Hank obliges, tucking his fingers into my hair at the back of my neck and tilting my head to the perfect angle as he deepens the kiss, turning me into molten lava. Forget melting. Now I’m combusting. I can’t get enough, and every place Hank touches leaves a brand behind until I’m burning all over, and I stuff my hands into his hair to anchor myself.

What was I so afraid of? This is utter bliss.

I don’t know who breaks away first, but neither of us speaks as we stand in the middle of an empty corner of the garden, straining for air in the coming twilight. Hank seems determined to keep both hands on me, though he can’t decide where. He moves from my waist to my arms to my face and back again, almost like he’s trying to convince himself that I’m real.

I chuckle when I look up and see his glasses askew. If I hadn’t been so caught off guard by the intensity in that kiss, I might have removed them for him. Instead, I straighten them and laugh when he doesn’t even open his eyes.

“Thank you,” he breathes, though I don’t know if he’s talking about his glasses or that kiss. He seems just as overcome as I am .

I busy myself by fixing his hair, which I thoroughly destroyed, because otherwise I’ll start kissing him again, and…I feel like we need to take things slowly. I was panicking about a relationship just a few minutes ago.

Hank catches my hand and presses it between both of his. “I hate that I’m asking this, but…how was that?”

Grinning, I bite my lip and love the way Hank’s eyes immediately drop to track the movement. “I very much enjoyed that.”

He groans and covers my mouth with his again with a kiss no less scorching than the last one, his fingers gripping my waist and keeping me close. When he pulls away, his eyes are shut tight.

He almost looks like he’s in pain. “I’m…” He presses his forehead to mine while he catches his breath. “Bonnie, I’m worried this isn’t going to be easy for me.” A tear slips from his eye, sliding down his cheek as a shudder runs through him. But he doesn’t let go of me, which says more than any words could. “I have spent so long protecting my heart that I’ve forgotten how to share it. But I’m trying.”

I love how honest he always is. I don’t love how he’s still hurting this much and there’s nothing I can do to ease that pain.

I brush the tear away as my own tears threaten to spill over. “Hank, we don’t have to rush this. In fact, I would rather we didn’t. I’m…reality is terrifying.” Just like admitting any of this out loud is terrifying. “I don’t know how to be in something real.”

Opening his eyes, he chuckles and presses a kiss to my forehead. I don’t know how, but he somehow manages to set me on fire with that touch just as much as he did with the sizzling kisses before. “No one does. We just have to…” He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “Take it one day at a time. Shelby used to say…” He takes another breath, and this one seems harder than the last.

I tuck my arms into his suit jacket and pull him close, tucking my head against his neck. I don’t know if this is helping or not, but I want to be as close to him as I can. “You don’t have to tell me, Hank.” I would almost rather he didn’t, but a part of me is wildly curious to know how that sentence ends.

To my delight, Hank returns the embrace with enthusiasm, wrapping me up tight and pressing his face into my hair. “She used to say life is wasted if it’s lived in fear. I don’t want to waste any more of my life, Bonnie. Dance with me?”

I nod and let him lead me by the hand to the other side of the garden, where the reception is in full swing. Shelby is right. I have lived too much of life being afraid. Afraid to be seen and known and rejected. But as Hank pulls me into his arms and slowly sways with me at the edge of the dance floor, I can’t help but think about how I have no idea how to not be afraid.

And I don’t know how I can be enough for Hank. I want to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m capable.

When we eventually go up to our suites, Hank gives me a simple but heated goodnight kiss. He doesn’t invite me into his room, and I don’t invite him into mine. I think we both know we need to take our time with this.

My phone is still sitting on my bed, and though I’m tempted to set it aside and leave it all until morning, I check my notifications anyway, noticing with a grimace that the battery is almost dead. Unease starts working its way through me when I see the many texts from my friends and several missed calls from both Trevor and Fran, some of which came in only a few minutes ago.

It’s the text from Derek that I open.

Derek:

We have a problem.

He included a link to a Hollywood Hot Scoop article, and I already know I’m not going to like what I find. I get just a glimpse of the headline before my phone dies, but it’s enough to tell me I’m in trouble.

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