by J. Kenner
He starts to pace. "This was one of the few things in my life that truly felt real, and they're ripping it away from me."
"I'm sorry," I say. "I am. But your talent is real. Your passion."
"I've been living a lie and it's come back to haunt me." His voice is hoarse. Tortured.
I feel the tears well in my eyes, and I try to hold them back. He's so torn apart right now, and all I want is to put him back together. But I don't know how. I'm afraid that the only one who can is Lyle himself.
"I'm not a lie," I whisper. "You and I aren't a lie."
I watch his face, but he doesn't answer, and my heart bleeds a little.
I have to swallow twice before I can speak. My throat is too thick with unshed tears. "Don't you get it?" I demand. "You're freaking out because someone shined a light on the truth. The truth," I repeat.
Then I draw a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I love you, but I can't live that way."
He looks up at me, his eyes as wary as a caged animal.
"Damien's right. It's time you stopped living lies. And until you do, the couple that you and I could be will stay as fake as this engagement."
I'm crying in earnest now, and I tug off the beautiful ring and press it into his palm.
"Sugar, no--"
"You need time, Lyle," I say. "I can't help--I don't know how to help. You have to get past this."
"How?"
I shake my head. "Deal with it. Own it. Jump over it, swim under it. I don't know. I wish I did."
I brutally wipe the tears from my cheeks. "All I know is that I love you," I whisper. "But your fight is inside you, Lyle, not with the world. And right now, I really have to go."
27
The phone kept ringing, and Lyle didn't give a shit.
He wasn't interested in talking to the reporters who were intent on hounding him any more than he wanted to talk to his friends.
All he wanted to do was get lost in his misery. And, frankly, he was doing a damn fine job of it.
He'd been sitting in the condo for two days, drinking Scotch, eating Bugles, and listening to country music with the blinds closed, the only light coming from the small fixtures underneath his kitchen cabinets.
He had the script for M. Sterious on the table in front of him, and right beside him was the script for Arizona Spring. And the only reason he had his phone at all was because Sugar's picture was on the lock screen, and every time someone called or messaged him, the screen flashed and her picture popped up.
And he had the ring. Hell, he was wearing the damn thing, although it only fit the tip of his pinkie finger. He had to keep it close. Had to keep her close.
Because he wanted her.
That was the bottom line.
He just plain wanted her, and he wasn't sure if it was too late. Wasn't sure if he had the strength to do what it took to get her back.
A key rattled in the lock, and he scowled. "Dammit, Nat, I told you to stay the fuck away this week."
"She follows instructions," Riley said. "I don't."
Lyle closed his eyes, then rubbed his temples. He really didn't need this shit right now.
Then again, maybe he did.
"I'm a fucking mess, man."
"You got that right," Riley said as he took in the scene. "You look like some alien spawn settled in to nest."
Since Lyle couldn't really argue with that, he just flipped his friend the bird.
"Seriously, man, Laine's worried."
"Did she tell you that?" A flicker of hope sparked in his chest.
"I take the Fifth. I don't think she wants you to know that she called me."
"Right." Fuck.
"You want to tell me why I'm playing go-between? You had a good thing with her. How'd this bullshit with the press screw that up?"
"It didn't," Lyle said. "The screwing up was all done by yours truly. Every good thing in my life, and I drove a skewer right through it."
Except even as he spoke, he knew that wasn't actually true. He screwed up his reputation--which was his own damn fault--and he screwed up his lucrative thing. His popular thing.
But Laine had been right--neither of those things were really his passion.
And so the question was, had he screwed up so badly he'd be shut out of acting?
And, more important, had he fucked up so royally that he couldn't get her back?
"You want to know the God's honest truth," he told his friend. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get her back or how to get my life on track or how to climb out of this damn hole I've dug."
"Fuck that bullshit," Riley said. "You? The guy who orchestrated his own rescue when he was barely sixteen, not to mention Jenny's, too. And no--" He thrust up a hand, keeping Lyle silent. "Don't you dare tell me that your plan failed because of the accident. That's wasn't anybody's fault. Which is, in fact, why we call it an accident."
"Riley--"
"I'm serious, Lyle. You've been running your career as if you were Jenny and her manager rolled into one. But it's your career, yours. For once push the guilt aside and thank Jenny for introducing you to work that you love."
"Can I talk now?"
"What?" Riley's voice was harsh.
"You're right."
"Goddammit, that's what--oh. Fuck yeah, I'm right."
Lyle pushed himself up off the couch, then pressed the button on the remote to open the blinds, flooding the condo with light.
"You're right," he repeated. "I've survived worse shit than this. My whole childhood's worse than this."
"Hell, yeah. What are you going to do now?"
Lyle held up a finger, then dialed his phone. "Hey," he said when she answered. "I need to see you. I'm on my way right now."
"You're going over to Laine's?" Riley asked.
Lyle shook his head. "I've got a few things I need to take care of first."
"I don't doubt it," Riley said. "But seriously, man. The very first thing you need to do is take a goddamned shower."
28
"Thanks for walking Lancelot with me," I say to Greg as we head from Jacob's apartment to my house.
"Anything you need," he says. "I'd go over to Lyle's condo and smack some sense into him, too. Except I don't actually know where he lives."
We spent the entire day and the early evening working on the flip--the long hours driven by me and my need to keep my mind fully occupied so that there's absolutely no room to think about Lyle. And then later, when Greg dropped me at my house, I saw that Jacob was about to walk Lancelot. Since the idea of a sunset walk seemed like another stellar way to keep my thoughts Lyle-free, I'd offered to take dog duty, and then I roped Greg into coming with me.
"I'm surprised he hasn't called you," Greg says. "I know I wasn't a fan at first, but I do like the guy. And I never doubted that he was crazy about you."
"I never doubted that either," I say. "I don't doubt it now." I pause at my gate. "You want to come in and watch a movie."
"Sure," he says. "Is this because you're dying for company or because you want to keep your mind off Lyle."
"Will you be offended if I say the latter?" I ask as I punch in the gate code and we walk toward the porch.
"Neither offended nor surprised," he assures me.
"You know," I say, picking up the earlier thread of our conversation, "everything was always great between Lyle and me. And I guess that's what makes this especially hard."
"Because it's not something you did that you can apologize for or fix," he says. "I get it."
"All I can do is wait. And try not to obsess. And think about other things." I make a face. "At least all of this drama is keeping my mind off my house. And at least the press has quit hanging around."
For the first couple of days, I'd been hounded by reporters, but after a while they got bored with my repeated, "No comment."
"Do you want me to come over this weekend and help you pack? I was talking with Joy and Nessie at Blacklist the other night, and they're both down for a packing maratho
n."
"Not really, but you probably should." I sigh heavily. "I have two weeks before the court rules, and then I'll probably have a few weeks after that before I have to actually vacate."
"It'll suck worse if you wait and do it all at the last minute."
"I know. I just hate believing it's real, even though I know it is." I flash an ironic smile his way. "I guess I have one thing to thank Lyle for. Everything with him has totally kept my mind off my impending homelessness."
I punch in the code for the front door. "I just miss him," I say as I open the door--
--and see that he's standing right there.
Right in the middle of my living room, looking at me and holding a rose.
"Hey," he says with a small smile. "I brought a peace offering."
I take it, my pulse fluttering, and raise the petals to my nose.
"Hi, Greg," he says. "Do you think you could--"
"I'll go," Greg says, then turns to me. "You do want me to go, right?"
I nod.
"Then I will, but before I go, I just want to say that I hope you're here to try to work this out. Because I swear, if you hurt her, I'm going to string you up by the balls and then drywall over you. It'll be a century before they find your body."
"Noted," Lyle says, without cracking a smile. "As far as I'm concerned that's completely fair."
"Well, all right then."
I give Greg a hug and promise to call in the morning. Then I shut the door behind him and turn back to Lyle.
"Thanks again," I say, lifting my rose. "I should go put it in water."
"Wait." He grabs my wrist as I try to walk by him, and I have to close my eyes in defense against my reaction. It's been days since I've seen him, and the feel of his skin on mine has fired my senses. It's hard enough to think standing this close to him. With physical contact, it's damn near impossible.
"Please." I gently tug free. "I can't do this if you're touching me. I need to be able to think."
"What do you need to think about?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. And I guess it doesn't matter if you touch me or not. The truth is that you're all I think about, anyway."
He reaches for me, and I flinch back. But he holds me steady, then gently brushes my hair behind my ear. "I'm so sorry. I'm so goddamned sorry."
I close my eyes fighting tears as darkness seems to settle over me. Because I know what that means.
That means it's all over.
"It should never have taken me so long."
The words sink slowly into my mind, and I open my eyes to see him smiling.
"You're the one who pulled me back from the dark. Who made me see what's important."
"Did I?"
"Your family. Your memories. Your integrity. You held up a mirror for me, even if it took me a long time to see it clearly. I love you, Sugar," he says, his voice full of conviction. "You're the only woman I've ever loved, and you're the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you."
His words wash over and through me. Filling me with joy.
"I love you, too," I say. "But--"
He presses a fingertip over my lip, then shakes his head. "I know what you're going to say. Love isn't our problem. I know. I've been living a shadow life. But that stops now. No more living someone else's dream. No more lying about who I really am."
I stand frozen with anticipation, my chest so full of hope I can't even breathe.
"I talked with Evelyn this morning."
"Is everything okay with those movie offers? I mean, they're not going to pull the offers because of the scandal?"
He shakes his head. "Not going to be an issue," he says. "Partly because this town thrives on scandal, but primarily because I'm not doing the movies."
My eyes go wide. "What?"
"I turned down the three sequels. But we told them I'd stay attached to M. Sterious so long as they go back to the original script. They agreed."
"Seriously?"
He nods. "They haggled. Said how they should reduce my profit participation because of the scandal, all sorts of nonsense. But in the end, when they saw there weren't three more coming in the wings, they agreed. They're not complete idiots. They know the original script was better."
"Lyle, that's great. You genuinely liked that script."
"Yeah," he says with a smile. "Honestly, now I can't wait to start filming. Plus, without the others filling my schedule, I was able to accept the offer for Arizona Spring."
I shake my head, then throw my arms around him and hug him. "I'm proud of you."
"Hell, I'm proud of me, too. You were right." He tilts my chin up so I'm facing him. "Jenny wanted fame and fortune. I want to act. You saw that from the beginning, even when I couldn't see my own life clearly."
"You just needed a mirror," I say.
"And you gave me one." He brushes a gentle kiss over my lips.
"Lyle," I murmur, a familiar need coursing through me.
"I know," he says. "Me, too. But there's something else I need to tell you."
I nod, then take a step back so that I can see him better.
"I resigned from my position at the SCF," he says.
"Oh." I swallow. It's great that he's accepted that he was living Jenny's dream, but I was hoping he'd follow Damien's advice and claw his way out from under the secrets of his past.
"What did Damien say?"
"It was his idea, actually. I talked to him after I met with Evelyn."
"His idea? But I thought he wanted you to tell the board about your past. To explain how much of a connection you had with the kids."
"Which would be great if I liked the position more. I mean, I'm happy to support the organization however they need me. But I had another idea. Fortunately, Damien loved it. And when he called a few board members to see how it would fly with them, they loved it, too."
"And...?"
"I'm going to be an SCF Youth Advocate," he says. "Hopefully the first of many."
I shake my head. "Should I know what that is?"
"Nope." His grin is so wide I'm certain that I'm missing something. "I invented it. The idea is to find celebrities with fucked up childhoods and, basically, to make their pasts public. To the world, but mostly to the kids. So that they realize they're not alone."
"Lyle..." Tears spill down my cheeks. "That's such an incredible idea."
"I hoped you'd think so. I'm not doing it for you--or for us--but I can't deny that I hoped you'd understand just how much it means for me to do this."
"I do," I say, rising as he bends forward, capturing me in the kind of kiss that has my toes curling and my senses firing.
When we break the kiss, I'm breathing hard, and as Skittles starts to rub against my ankles, I take Lyle's hand, fully intending to lead him to my bedroom and have my way with him.
"Wait," he says. "There's one more thing. These last few days have been hell without you. I don't want to do that again. One day, I fully intend to give you back that ring. But right now, I'm asking if you want to live together. Because I don't want to be without you for another minute."
"Yes." I feel like I'm going to burst. "Absolutely, yes." My smile is so wide it hurts. Then I think about the logistics, and my smile fades. "It will have to be your condo, though. I'll be losing this place soon." I sigh. "I'm going to miss it so much. The house. The neighborhood. The beach."
"Actually, I think we'd rather live in my house. I can keep the condo as an office."
"You have a house?" How did I not know that?
"I just bought it, actually."
"I don't suppose it has an ocean view," I say wryly.
"Only from the roof, but it's walking distance."
"Really? Where is it?"
"Close," he says. "You want to see it?" He takes my hand, then leads me to the door.
"We can walk there?"
"Easily."
"Um, okay." I know the neighborhood pretty well, and I don't remember a house being for sale. But then again, I've been a
little distracted lately.
We walk to the gate, and as soon as we reach the sidewalk, he says, "Here we are."
I look at him, confused, then see that he's staring back at my house.
Now I'm even more confused.
"I don't understand," I admit.
"Your father wanted the equity. So I bought his share. I was hoping you wouldn't mind being co-owners. What with me being in love with you and all."
"No," I say, trying desperately not to cry as I fling myself into his arms and hold him tight, this man who loves me. Who takes care of me. And who I love with all my heart. "I really don't mind at all."
* * *
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
The Stark Children's Foundation and SCF Youth Advocate Lyle Tarpin are pleased to announce that yesterday marked the final day of shooting for M. Sterious, next summer's installment in the Blue Zenith universe of films.
The day, however, was about more than just the wrapping of the film. It was also about the children whose lives have been touched by the SCF, as well as by the volunteers and donors who have given so generously of their time and money.
As a special treat, over fifty past and present recipients of SCF services and grants were present during the final day's shoot and at the wrap party that followed on the studio back lot.
The entire cast attended the party, and each child was presented with a package of signed memorabilia.
The celebration didn't end there, however, as the wrap party turned into an engagement celebration when Tarpin took to the stage to formally announce his engagement to Sugar Laine.
The wedding will take place in the summer, and the SCF extends congratulations to the happy couple.
* * *
A note from JK:
I hope you enjoyed Lyle and Sugar's story!
* * *
I'm excited to share a peek at Emma Chase's Royally Endowed! Keep reading! You'll find an excerpt following the sneak peek of JK's upcoming Wicked Torture!
* * *
There's more Stark coming! So be sure to subscribe to my newsletter or text JKenner to 21000 so you'll be among the first to know when my 2018 Stark World series is available!
* * *
Keep reading for a preview of Noah's story, Wicked Torture, the third novel in this scorching new series of fast-paced, provocative novels centering around the ambitious, wealthy, and powerful men who work in and around the glamorous and exciting world of the Stark International conglomerate ... and the sexy and passionate women who bring them to their knees.