by Mel Gough
Brad nods. “They only got the news a week ago. They’ll be back in a fortnight, with their new daughter.”
“That’s great news,” Damien says. “They’ve waited long enough for her!”
“They have.” Brad looks happy. “Oh, hey, did you make that appointment with the acupressure guy?”
Damien nods. “Sure have. Day after tomorrow. Is four p.m. still good?”
“Guy’s on Warren Street, takes me five minutes from the office, so yes.” Brad smiles. He cups Damien’s face so that he can stroke his temple with one thumb. Damien closes his eyes and leans into the touch.
An osteopath who comes to set in Winnipeg for the minor injuries the actors suffer occasionally started doing acupressure for Damien’s migraines a few weeks ago. They’ve only had a handful of sessions, but Damien’s head hasn’t felt this good in years.
The osteopath suggested he should see a specialist in Manhattan, who can also teach him self-administered massage techniques. And Brad has asked to come along, so when Damien has an attack at home he can help him out.
Without opening his eyes, Damien takes Brad’s hand from his face and kisses the palm. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispers.
“If flying to the moon would get rid of your migraine, I’d charter us a rocket today,” Brad says emphatically.
Damien chuckles. He pulls Brad close and kisses him again. But before they can get into the swing of it, Brad pushes himself upright. Damien opens his eyes. Brad’s face bears an uncomfortable expression.
“What is it?” Damien asks, worried. “Has something happened?”
“Before we get distracted, I better tell you,” Brad says. “I had a call from Victor. You know I’ve been trying to find out how Vivienne is getting on.”
Damien’s heart sinks. He’s been badgering Brad to try and find out but in his excitement about the casting news and his anticipation of coming home, he’d forgotten about Viv for a few days. “What did Victor say?”
He’s been reluctant to ask around his own contacts about Viv. He still gets the chills when he thinks about what happened. The trial, highly publicized in the press, had brought to light just how much Viv had veered off into her own, crazy world. The showdown in his penthouse had been scary, but the thought that she’d followed him around the city for weeks, and that she’d been behind the paving stone through Brad’s window, was even more disturbing. Damien went to court only once, to give his statement. Seeing Viv, gaunt, pale, without makeup, her hair dull and untidy, her eyes lifeless from the anti-psychotic drugs, had been the saddest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
He both needs and doesn’t want to know. When Brad doesn’t immediately answer he asks again, “What did he say?”
“She’s no better,” Brad says, staring at his hands. “At first, they thought it was just a case of narcissistic personality disorder. But her delusions are only getting worse. She still thinks she will have your baby soon. And…” He swallows hard. Damien takes his hand. Brad squeezes his fingers. “She tried to kill herself. Slit her wrists.” The last words come out in a whisper. Damien puts his arms around Brad and hugs him close. After what he’s been through with Aiden, nothing holds as much terror for Brad as suicide. Even the thought of Viv, who has put them through all this grief, trying to take her own life is torture to him.
After a long time in Damien’s embrace Brad sighs and sits up straight again. “You know what Victor said before we hung up? At least the movie’s doing well.” He gives a humorless laugh. “What an asshole.”
“He married Stef a few weeks ago,” Damien says. “Was in one of the gossip rags the production assistants like to read.”
The scandal of Victor Cahn divorcing his wife who is locked up in a mental hospital has exercised the gossip-hungry audiences for months. Damien is certain that the divorce, and now remarriage to Viv’s former assistant, are all part of the PR for Victor’s growing reputation of the enfant terrible that will secure him immortality in Hollywood.
“Ugh, sorry,” Brad says, rubbing his face and shaking his head to dispel the distasteful thoughts. “Have I ruined the mood?”
“I’m not sure,” Damien says, eager to forget, at least for a little while, what they can’t change anyway. “Let’s see…” He leans close, and give Brad a small, experimental kiss. Then he pulls away, making an exasperatedly pensive face. “Still not sure,” he says, pretending to frown.
Brad gives a little grin. “Here, let me try.” The next series of kisses grow more passionate, and Damien soon feels his jeans get tight. He sinks down, pulling Brad with him into the depth of the sofa. Brad chuckles.
“What?” Damien asks, breaking the kiss.
“Last night, Rose, Zoe, and I sat right here, singing Frozen songs,” Brad says, blushing. “Feels weird.”
“This is a multi-purpose sofa,” Damien murmurs, pulling Brad into a close embrace. “Lots of room for love right here.”
“Yeah,” Brad agrees with a smile that makes his entire face glow. “Lots of love.”
THE END
Thank you!
Thank you so much for reading this book! I hope you enjoyed the story.
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Many thanks!
Mel Gough
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the help of my wonderful and super patient editors Leta Blake and DJ Jamison. Thank you!
And, as always, this author adventure would never happen without Eran, who is my everything.
About the Author
This is Mel’s third novel. She has previously self-published a novella. Her series of sweet m/m romance novels will come out later in the year.
You can find Mel on Twitter and Facebook, and there’s more information on her website at melgough.com.
If you would like to purchase another of Mel’s books, go to her Amazon page now.
Also by Mel Gough