Her gaze jerked to mine. “What?”
I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it and dropping to one knee in front of her. “Hazel Stone, I didn’t think I’d ever find love again. I didn’t think I was worthy of the sort of love you’ve shown me. I know I said I’d want a long engagement if I were to ever propose again, but the truth is…I just want you. However you’ll take me. If that means we’re engaged for ten years until you’re ready, I’ll take that. If it means you want to fly to Vegas tonight, I’ll take that. As long as I get you in the end.”
She swallowed, tears brimming in her eyes, and slowly her clenched fist opened, revealing a simple titanium band in her palm. “I was going to ask you to marry me.” She laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. “You’re always ruining my plans, Bradley!” She moved to smack me on the shoulder, but I caught her hand, tugging the simple square-cut diamond from the box and sliding it halfway up her knuckle.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded, one tear spilling over the edge of her eye. “Yes.” I slid the ring on the rest of the way and stood, kissing her hard. “On one condition,” she whispered. “Vegas is too far, and we have another show tomorrow night.” She paused, showing me the ring she’d been holding. “Let’s drive to Atlantic City…tonight. After the show.”
I lifted her in my arms, kissing her again, diving my tongue between her lips and exploring her mouth.
“Do you want to invite anyone?” I asked as I lowered her back to her feet.
“Just Rosa,” she said. “And what about you? Any best man you want to bring?”
I didn’t even have to think about it before I answered, “Noah Tripp. He’s the whole reason we’re together in the first place.”
She rolled her eyes playfully at that. “I guess I can forgive him, finally.”
There was a knock at the door, and Hazel yelled for them to come in. Max, the stage manager, poked his head inside. “Places,” he said, grinning just as nervously as Hazel was.
I brushed my lips against hers, gently this time. Thank God for her indestructible lipstick. “But first…before we do anything, you have to go break a leg tonight.”
“I will,” she said, squeezing my hand and sliding the ring off her finger, tucking it safely into its velvet box. “But Sister Mary would not be engaged.”
She winked and strolled past me to get into her spot on stage for the start of the show, and I slipped out into the audience to take my seat for opening night. How lucky was I that I got to watch the making of a star? I got to see her blossom into the Tony-winner I knew she would someday be.
And I got to marry her. Tonight.
Epilogue
Noah
Later that night…
“I can’t believe they’re married,” I whispered, taking a slug from my beer.
“I know.” Beside me, Rosa sipped a fruity cocktail that looked more like a smoothie than an alcoholic beverage.
Two of my closest friends decided less than seven hours ago that they wanted to get married… tonight. It was midnight by the time Reid and Hazel finally uttered the words “I do,” to each other and we were leaving the 24-hour chapel on the Atlantic City strip.
I shook my head. That kind of impulsiveness wasn’t something I knew anymore. Shit, I wasn’t even allowed to choose which suit I would wear to a premiere without consulting at least three other people. I missed that freedom… not that I would go out and jump into a binding legal contract with someone on a whim like they just did… but hell. I missed being reckless. Even just a little.
I took another drink of my beer. Coors Light. According to my trainer, I had to stick with the low-calorie drinks. A snarl curled my lips, and more than anything, I wanted to hurl that stupid low-calorie tasteless beer into the ocean.
My toes curled into the cool sand of the Atlantic City beach bar as I stood staring at Hazel and Reid swaying together in the center of the dance floor. Crowds of people—strangers—surrounded them, buying them shots and celebrating the impromptu wedding right along with us. That was the beauty of a place like Atlantic City.
“Oh. My. God. You’re Noah Tripp, right?” Dammit. I hadn’t seen the girl and her friend slide up beside me. She clutched her phone in her palm, cradling it to her chest as a big, goofy grin spread along her cheeks. She looked young… not jailbait young, but too young to be drinking legally in the outdoor tiki bar.
I swallowed my sigh and put on my best disarming smile. The one that landed me the part of the brooding vampire on my current tv show. “I am. What’s your name?”
“My name? Oh my God. Kelsey. It’s Kelsey. Can we get a picture?”
“Of course.” I slid in between them, making sure my hands were visible in the picture—a trick my publicist had taught me when I first became famous—and I grinned even wider at the camera.
“Thank you!” Kelsey squealed and then, thankfully, ran away. It was so fucking awkward when they hung around after the picture and tried to talk for a while.
Once they were gone, I sighed, slumping back onto my stool and resuming the slow sips of my shitty beer.
“That was quite a display,” Rosa chuckled, glancing past me at the girls who were looking down at their phones, no doubt ready to post the picture to their Instagram or whatever.
“That was nothing,” I said in response. “Sometimes one person asking for a picture results in everyone asking for one, even if they don’t know who I am. They just assume I must be famous.”
“That must get exhausting. Do you ever get to feel like yourself when you’re out and about?”
“Not usually.” I glanced to my left. Rosa’s wild, curly dark hair framed her sharp, high cheekbones and full mauve lips. Rosa was easily the most stunning woman I’d ever laid eyes on. When Hazel first introduced us, I used every trick in my book to get her into bed with me… or at the very least on a date with me. But she saw through each and every one of my compliments—however genuine they were. If playing hard to get was a game, Rosa deserved the fucking gold medal for it.
Or maybe she really just didn’t like me the same way I liked her.
“Don’t you psychoanalyze me,” I grinned and pointed playfully at her nose. “You’re not a psychologist yet.”
Her grin stretched wide, revealing a set of perfectly straight, pearly-white teeth and dimples that framed either side of her mouth. “Okay, okay,” she said putting her hands up in surrender. “I just can’t help but notice you grimace every time you take a sip from that beer you’ve been nursing since we arrived at the bar. Why not order something else if you don’t like it?”
I spun around, resting my elbows on the bar and pushing the lukewarm, half-drunk beer away from me. She was right. I didn’t want the beer. “I’m supposed to be shredding down for when we start back up filming in a few weeks.”
“Ah. Shredding, sure.” She took another sip of her daiquiri, wrapping those pretty lips around the straw. Damn, I wanted those lips on mine. “But would one drink really hurt? Just one little sex on the beach to celebrate and enjoy the marriage of two of our closest friends?”
Just one little sex on the beach… Her words catapulted my imagination to a more literal depiction of that. And the thing I craved way more than any alcoholic beverage. I tore my gaze away from her seductive mouth and instead focused ahead at the bartender pouring something pink and fruity from a steel cocktail shaker.
“Probably not,” I admitted. I could have one good drink and then go back to my low-calorie beers and gin and soda water… basically the only drinks approved by my trainer. And even those, only in moderation.
“Okay, then!” She slapped her palm down on the bar and the sudden shift in volume and tone was enough to make me jump, nearly knocking over the bottle of beer near my hand. “What’s your poison?”
“I… don’t know,” I said. “Um, a martini?”
“Tripp! Are you kidding me?” Rosa threw her hands into the air. “We’re in a tiki b
ar, and you’re going to splurge for the first time in God knows how long, and you’re going to choose a martini like you’re some sort of James Bond?”
“Well, then you order for me. Since you’re such an expert on tiki bars apparently.”
“Oh, I will order for you.” She put her finger in the air. “Hey, Mark! Can we get a pain killer and another strawberry daiquiri for me?”
“You got it, beautiful.” The bartender, Mark apparently, winked at Rosa from across the bar, and the sight caused a weird twisting and roiling feeling in my stomach.
“The fact that you already know the bartender by name is maybe a sign you’ve had too much.”
“Or,” she said, quirking her brow at me, “the fact that you don’t know his name is a sign that you haven’t had enough.”
“Uhhh, I don’t think your logic checks out—” I laughed all the same. Rosa had that effect on me. Things just felt easy around her. My laugh, my smile, the conversation… easy.
“And look,” she continued, slurping the last of her drink through the straw. “Not for nothing, but these last few hours have been really stressful. Planning a wedding—even an elopement with only four people—on a moment’s notice is fucking intense.”
Well, that was for sure. Rosa and I had driven to Atlantic City early in order to arrange the last-minute wedding, while Hazel and Reid were finishing up the opening night of their show.
“We pulled it off, though.”
I grinned down at her as she offered me a fist bump, which I accepted by tapping my own fisted hand to hers. “Hell yeah, we did,” she said. “Best friends for the win.”
After a few minutes, Mark came by with our drinks and a cocktail napkin with his name and number scribbled onto it. “Here you go, gorgeous.”
It took everything inside of me not to growl—literally growl at the guy. I had no right to feel protective of her. I had no right to stand in the way of a guy trying to give her his number… Rosa wasn’t mine. But not for lack of trying on my part. Though, she’d never given me a straight answer as to why she said no… not that she owed me that. After asking her out twice, and getting rejected twice, I backed off. But remained her friend, deep down secretly wishing and hoping she’d change her mind and ask me out for once.
I winced, clearing my throat, and nudged the napkin with Mark’s phone number toward her. “Looks like you caught his eye.”
Her nose scrunched and she shrugged. “I’m not interested in him. I’m not sure what’s the kinder way to handle it… take the number and never call him? Or leave his number on the bar so that he knows my intentions.”
Don’t take the number… don’t take the fucking number… if she had his number, at any moment she could change her mind and booty call him, and since we had adjoining hotel rooms… I was pretty sure I’d hear every fucking moan, which would probably kill me. I didn’t want to hear her being pleasured by any man other than me tonight.
“Can I ask you something… something that I hope isn’t disrespectful?”
Her eyebrows tightened in the center of her face as curiosity twisted her features. “Okay…”
“You and me… you always said it would be a bad idea. Why?”
Her expression softened and she tucked her wildly curly hair behind her ear. “Because…” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would ruin you, Noah Tripp.” Her expression became suddenly solemn, as though this wasn’t sarcasm or playful banter… but something she truly believed. The salty sea breeze caught her words, nearly floating them out to the ocean.
“I highly doubt that,” I said.
“You have fame. And a reputation to uphold. You have people and a team.” Her gaze drifted to my mouth and just knowing that her attention was there on my lips caused my pulse to quicken. The effect of her stare so potent, it was almost like a caress on my skin.
“What does that have to do with us?”
She sighed, dragging her gaze away from my mouth—my face. The aftershocks of her attention were still palpable and left gooseflesh on my skin.
“You know my dad’s a senator. I grew up in the public eye…being scrutinized by media for every little thing I did or didn’t do. My rebellious teenage years almost cost my father the election. I felt terrible and guilty and… I just… I never want that kind of life again.”
I swallowed hard. Well, shit. My fame had always gotten me so far in life. So much of what I had could be credited to it… it never occurred to me that my fame was the one thing keeping Rosa and me apart.
She played with her straw, dipping it in and out of her daiquiri. “And if you’re happy with your life, I don’t want to make you feel bad for your success and choices, Noah.” She paused, glancing at me, her eyes dark, glistening orbs in the low-light of the bar. “You are happy, right? Shitty beer aside.”
“Yeah,” I answered automatically. And it was the truth. I was happy. Mostly. I didn’t always love the fame, but I loved my job, I loved acting. And while being a public figure could get kind of tiresome, it also came with the territory. I didn’t think I’d change it for anything.
“Good,” Rosa said. A pinch in her eyes told me there was more to that response beneath the single word she spoke.
“So… we’re friends, right?” I asked, the word souring in my mouth like a bite of lemon.
I watched as her smile dropped for only a moment before she quickly plastered it back on.
She lowered her lips to the straw, taking another big gulp. How many drinks had she had tonight? Three? Four? She lifted a delicate hand and dragged her fingernail down my jaw and across my bottom lip. It was intentional… seductive… and as she lowered the finger away, I licked my bottom lip as though I could taste the remnants of her touch.
“Rosa,” I said, my voice a graveled ghost of what it usually sounded like. “One date can be hidden from the media. One night together to see if this is worth exploring.”
Her smile flickered like a dying flame. “I think we both know that one date will be really good. And we’ll be left in the same spot as before. Wanting two different trajectories in life.” She swallowed and I followed the musculature of her throat with the movement. “I just wish—”
“Hey,” Mark said, and I could have punched him in the fucking broad nose right there for interrupting her. “Got a couple of shots for ya from the ladies at the end of the bar.” I glanced up to find the girls who had come over for a selfie giving me a shy wave. “And I brought one for you, too,” he winked at Rosa. “Didn’t want you feeling left out.”
“Both of these are for me?” I gestured to the shot glasses of Jack Daniels sitting on the bar in front of me.
Mark shrugged. “Guess so. They each wanted to buy one for you… and they were very specific that both were to go to you.” He tapped the top of the bar twice before heading back toward waiting customers.
Rosa lifted the shot glass between her delicately pinched fingers. “Well… cheers?”
I swallowed, lifting my own glass as she tapped the rim against hers. I didn’t want the shot. I just wanted her to finish her original thought. What do you wish for, Rosa? But I was chicken shit. And instead, I threw my head back and swallowed the burning whiskey in one gulp… then downed the other just as fast. One drink was quickly turning into one night of drinking… but Rosa was right. Will that really ruin my reputation? My diet? My meal plan? Will letting loose for one stupid night ruin me? No fucking way.
“There you go!” Rosa laughed, squeezing my shoulder. “Must feel nice to cut loose a little, huh?”
I laughed and pressed the back of my hand against my lips. It had been a long time since I’d done shots, let alone shots after already having a couple drinks beforehand.
“Awww,” Rosa said. “Don’t worry, Tripp. I’ll take care of you tonight.”
“If only that were true.” Heat sparked in my chest, and God knew, it must have been the alcohol talking. Her eyes widened and our heavy breathing synchronized, if only for a moment.
&
nbsp; A tiny raindrop fell from the sky, landing on her nose.
I muttered a curse as one hit me on the cheek, then the knuckles. I glanced up to the sky and sighed, snapping the collar of my jacket higher around my neck as I glanced quickly over at Reid and Hazel, still in the middle of the dance floor, kissing, dancing, without a care in the world. Hazel wore a beautiful silk white dress and Reid was in one of his favorite suits… though for the life of me, I wasn’t sure where he had dropped the jacket and tie in the midst of celebrating. “It’s going to rain all over them on what was otherwise a perfect wedding,” I groused.
“Are you kidding?” Rosa stared at me incredulously. “This is even more perfect!” As she glanced up at the sky, more raindrops fell, watering down her cocktail glass. Instead of squealing or making a run for it, Rosa threw her free hand into the air, and tilted her face to the sky, welcoming the raindrops as they continued to fall on us. Her laugh rang out and was so ridiculously joyful and beautiful that I felt my initial sourness over the weather softening.
“All right, look, I’m all for optimism. But how is this more perfect?”
“Because,” she said, “getting caught on the beach in the rain? It’s like right out of a movie!”
I would have rolled my eyes if anyone else—literally anyone—had said that. But Rosa seemed so giddy. So delightfully, genuinely happy that I couldn’t bring myself to burst her bubble.
The DJ switched the songs, and everyone around us squealed in delight as the Pina Colada song came on. Anyone who wasn’t already dancing rushed the middle of the floor, and I smiled as my best friend took his new wife in his arms and kissed her deeply as rain fell around them.
I chuckled and looked again to Rosa. “Okay… maybe it is a little romantic.”
Directing You Page 14