Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(79)

The way he was so happy Nicole could read without trouble.

The way he never read anything in front of anyone.

The slow, rote memorization of the script.

Paula taking care of everything.

More papers inside. Marked scripts. Flashcards with phonetic spellings.

“Paula,” I said to myself, identifying the sender to his parents. “Brad’s dyslexic?”

They exchanged glances. “He didn’t tell you?” his mother asked, incredulous.

I didn’t have a moment to answer. Brad walked in wearing a T-shirt stretched over his perfect chest and jeans that made me want to get him naked. My brain spun off its axis for a second.

If I’d been thinking straight, I would have said something about the books right away. Told him it didn’t matter. Or hid them. But all I could do was stand there holding Phonetics for Dyslexics staring at him because he was beautiful and that was the book I had in my hand at the moment.

He saw me, the books all over the counter, his parents looking meek, and walked out.





CHAPTER 61


BRAD


Five minutes after Paula hung up, six minutes after she told me what was in the letter I signed, I was back at it. Trying to work, because that was all that kept me sane, but my concentration was shot. I’d just figured out how to tell Cara I was dyslexic only to find out that was a teeny tiny little fib in the face of the incident on the plane Paula had just reminded me about.

Shit, I was just walking to the kitchen for a Coke, trying to decide whether to hide it from Cara or just spit it out. Wondering if Paula could be bought off with money or compliments. I didn’t have the testicular fortitude for bribery or flattery, but I didn’t have any other options.

I never got that Coke.

When I got to the kitchen, my dad had this shrug on. My mother was kind of shaking her head, and the one who mattered? The one who hated lies? She was just staring at me, holding up a book. I didn’t know what to make of her expression.

Ken, my personal PR pith-maker? He had an expression for information that got out.

The toothpaste was out of the tube.

Was I supposed to apologize?

What did someone do right out of the gate?

Was I supposed to defend myself? Tell her I hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it?

I didn’t care what anyone thought of me, but I cared what she thought.

If you don’t care what people think, why didn’t you tell them you were dyslexic?

Flooded. I was flooded with my own contradictions and needs. Cara put the book down, and I knew whatever was going to happen was going to happen now. I was going to have to answer for my ambition. I was going to have to tell Cara everything my drive had done to her, to me, to us, to Nicole, and I wasn’t ready.

Nope.

Because Paula had just told me the one lie I’d forgotten I’d told. The big one. I hadn’t even had to hide it because I’d zipped it, locked it, and tossed it out the window, never to be recalled. Now what? Now that I loved Cara and I wanted to find a way to make her part of my life? Now that I’d figured out how to tell her the first big lie, a second presented itself just as she figured out what a liar I was.

This party boy needed a drink.





CHAPTER 62


CARA


Nicole licked her ice cream bowl and handed it to her grandmother.

“It’s clean now. You don’t need to put it in the dishwasher.”

She had chocolate streaks across her cheeks, on the bridge of her nose, and under her chin. She was as funny and cute as ever, but two hours after Brad left the room, I was uncharmed. I wiped her face as she tried to wiggle away.

“Ow! Hey! I don’t like that!”

“No five-year-old likes getting their face wiped.” I put the paper towel down, and Nicole gave me the stubborn-child-look-of-death.

“I. Do. Not. Like. It.”

“Well,” Grandma said, “why don’t you show Miss Cara how to do it.” She handed the paper towel back to Nicole.

“Come here,” she demanded, waving me to her level.

I resigned, leaning down. Nicole gently wiped my face, patting so lightly she wouldn’t have gotten a speck of ice cream off me if I’d decided to lick the bowl.

“You’re upset,” Erma said.

She was right. I was distracted and unhappy. I must have broadcast it with every gesture and word. I felt as if I was dangling. I didn’t have a phone so I couldn’t call him, and calls from his parents had gone unanswered. I just wanted to talk to him. Nothing more.

“I don’t know why he thinks it would matter to me.”

She put Nicole’s ice cream bowl in the dishwasher while she wasn’t looking.

“When he first moved out there he had a lot of people telling him what to do. People who wanted to help him. And things happened so fast for him, he couldn’t get his feet under him, so he listened to them.” She wiped the counter pensively. “One of the things they told him was that if people knew it took him so long to read, they wouldn’t hire him. He didn’t go all the way out there to not get work.” She pointed to my face and said to Nicole, “You missed a spot, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Grandma.” Nicole wiped a spot on my forehead and put the towel down. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to do it.”