A Hollywood Bride(33)

I squeeze my eyes shut. How could I have been so wrong?

Elliot wisely says nothing for a moment, letting me stew in self-recrimination. “She’s just being targeted more because she doesn’t fit the image of a deserving woman.”

Raising my head, I look at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know. She’s not model gorgeous, not from a rich or famous family, not a size zero, didn’t go to some fancy school, and didn’t have some kind of noble job.”

“What the hell is a ‘noble’ job?”

“Like feeding children or advocating for abused women or whatever.”

My face scrunches. Shallow, judgmental people piss me off. “First of all, Paige is gorgeous. It isn’t my fault that people can’t see that. And you don’t have to be rich or famous or a size zero, or have an Ivy League diploma to be worthy. If that’s the criteria, people should pelt me with eggs and tomatoes.” I have the looks, wealth and a famous family behind me, but I don’t have anything else.

“But you’re a guy.”

“So?”

“So it’s okay. The requirement is only for women.”

“What the fuck?”

He shrugs. “Just how it is. Society is harsh on women. You know that.”

I let my head fall back onto the thick cushion. Chandeliers hang from the high ceilings in the living room, one of them right over my position. It infuriates me that she’s being treated unfairly and that I had no idea all this time. I promised her I would ensure she wasn’t humiliated or hurt by our arrangement, and I failed to keep my word.

My phone pings with a text. I ignore it. I don’t want to talk to anybody right now. If it’s urgent, they can call.

“That might be Paige,” Elliot says.

“No, it isn’t. It’s probably some junk.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Oh.” He nods sagely. The thing I like about him is that he knows me well. But sometimes he knows me too well. “Is she at her actress friend’s?”

“No.” The word grates out. If it were so, there wouldn’t be that nasty taste lingering in the back of my throat.

“Are you guys okay?”

I consider. I don’t want to answer him since it isn’t anything pretty, and I feel like if I say it out loud, it’s going to become real—a reality I won’t be able to ignore.

There’s no way to spin her decision to accept Anthony’s offer. She might as well have sliced my balls off. A dark apprehension in my gut say she’s also going to turn down my proposal at Samantha’s office. I shove it down deeper before it makes me do something rash.

“Ryder?”

I almost jump off the couch at the soft voice coming from behind me. I turn and blink. I didn’t imagine it.

Paige.

She’s in the same clothes she had on earlier, albeit freshly laundered. Still, the ketchup and mustard stains are visible on her top. The tear in the sleeve hasn’t been mended.

Her face is bare, free of makeup, and her hair hangs limply over her shoulders. Something fragile lurks in her gaze, and my heart leaps to my throat.

I don’t know what to say. People think that I never run out of perfect lines. I suppose that makes sense if they only know me through cinema. After all it’s easy to be fearless on set. I have the words, emotions, and props. I know exactly how my costars are going to react.

But here, at this moment, I feel like a derelict actor who didn’t bother to study his script. Sweat slickens my palms, and my brain works frantically to come up with something to say.

Elliot squeezes my shoulder, nods at Paige, and leaves.

Finally I manage, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It felt wrong to stay there.” Paige’s voice is barely a whisper. She meets my eyes for a brief moment then drops her gaze. “I shouldn’t have gone with Anthony.”

She doesn’t have to say anything more.

I step forward and wrap my arms around her. The tightness in my chest eases, and I can breathe again. Unable to help myself, I bury my nose in her hair. I absorb her warmth and her softness and the sweet scent that is uniquely hers. Of all the women I know, she’s the only one who can seem to comfort my soul. What my brain and experience tell me means nothing when I feel like this, a weary man finding sanctuary.

Does it matter that the sanctuary may be temporary?

“You made the right decision,” I rasp out. “Welcome home.”

* * *

The dinner offerings could be described as, well, masculine. The chef initially prepared it for me and Elliot.

The lamb chops are amazing, a fresh mint sauce really bringing out the flavor of the meat. I realize how little I’ve eaten all day, which isn’t like me. And the potatoes, garnished with some sort of green flecks that kind of look like mint but aren’t, are excellent as well.