Or rather, he was guy enough to enjoy it in the moment, but afterwards, he felt like shit. He didn't want Grace, and all he'd done was lead her on. And when she started hanging around him more-obviously believing that they were sliding into coupledom-he manned up, told her he didn't think it was going to work, and ended it.
To say she didn't take it well would be the understatement of the century. She called him a stuck up prick who thought he could just skate by on his family name and didn't have to be nice to anyone. Which was ridiculously unfair since he'd always felt like his family name was an albatross. But unfair or not, it stung.
"That's the price we pay," his father had said when Wyatt decided to bite the bullet, swallow some pride, and ask his dad for advice. He'd always had a good relationship with his father, but lately Carlton Royce had seemed distracted. An accountant, Carlton had met Wyatt's mother, Lorelei, when they were both attending the same charity function. They'd each come with other dates, had met at the dessert table, and had married four months later.
"Price?" Wyatt asked.
"Of celebrity."
"Yeah, but I'm not a celebrity. That's Grandma. And Jenna," he added, referring to his sister who owned three restaurants and starred in her own Manhattan-based celebrity cooking show. "Mom, too, sort of." Considering all his mother's work was behind the camera, she wasn't as recognizable. But she'd grown up on studio lots and at star-studded premiers. So that definitely put her in the celebrity bucket.
But Wyatt had avoided all that stuff. Not because he was shy, but because he just didn't get it. If the spotlight wasn't actually shining on him, why would he want to be standing in its glow?
"Comes with the territory, kid," his dad had said. "Just because you never escort your mom down the red carpet doesn't mean the world doesn't see you as one of them. You're Hollywood royalty, son. We both are. Whether we want to be or not. Whether we deserve it or not. And most of the time, that's all anyone cares about. They want that piece of you. That shiny anointed part. They don't see you. They see the family."
Wyatt frowned, not used to hearing such harshness in his father's voice.
He started to ask about it, but his dad continued. "Even on the inside," he said. "It's everywhere. Permeates everything. It's like dry rot, and it eats away at the foundation."
"Dad? What are you talking about?"
Carlton drew a breath and shook his head. "Sorry. Just rambling. Don't listen to me." He sighed, the sound long and mournful. "You know I love you, right?"
"Um, sure," Wyatt frowned, worried by his father's tone and uncharacteristic sentimentality. "I love you, too."
"And God knows your grandmother thinks you hung the moon."
"Sure, Dad," Wyatt said. The fact was, Anika Segel was a force of nature, and although Wyatt was firmly convinced that she was one of the most incredible women to ever walk the earth, he had no freaking idea what she really thought about him. Or anybody, for that matter, other than his mother and sister. With those two, she'd hole up for hours talking career and how to position themselves, and on and on and on.
There were times when Wyatt felt invisible.
So while his dad's words were nice to hear, Wyatt wasn't at all sure he believed them.
His dad clapped him on the shoulder. "Just forget about Grace, son. She'll move on. Another girl will come along soon enough."
He thought of Kelsey and cringed as he felt his cheeks heat. Was he actually blushing? How lame was that?
His dad chuckled. "So she's come along, already? All right, then. Tell me about her."
"I dunno. She's pretty. She's different." He lifted a shoulder. "And she's not interested in me at all."
"You sure about that?"
Wyatt shrugged again.
"But you like her?"
"Yeah. I like her a lot."
"So tell her."
"I tried."
His dad nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough. But maybe you need to try harder. Deep down, nobody's that different."
"She is," Wyatt said firmly. Because Kelsey was different, with her shy and quiet ways counterpointed by a light that burned inside of her. He'd only seen flickers, so far. But what he wanted was for it to shine on him. He wanted to bask in her glow.
His father's mouth curved down thoughtfully. "Maybe she is. But don't be blinded by a pretty girl," he said. "Or a sweet one, or a charming one. Sure, there are girls out there who aren't as obvious as Grace, but in the end, everybody's drawn to fame. Everybody. Even the people who say they don't want it themselves, they're still drawn to the light. We're a culture of moths, Wyatt, and you'll be a happier man if you remember that."