Spoiler Alert (Spoiler Alert #1)(67)
They weren’t talking about Rose and Jack anymore, if they ever had been, and Lavinia took a deep breath.
Aeneas was her boyfriend. She loved him. But the way he’d ghosted Dido right before junior prom, at his parents’ demand, was cruel, and she wouldn’t make excuses for him. She and Dido might never be close, but she knew the other girl had hurt then, and was still hurting now. Truly.
“You’re right.” She met Dido’s tear-bright eyes. “But then he was gone, and he wasn’t coming back, and she deserved to be happy again without him. I know he would want that, because he truly cared about her.”
Dido nodded, a jerk of her trembling chin.
“Maybe we can move on?” the teacher prodded.
Lavinia eyed Dido questioningly. The other girl nodded again, and even tried to smile at Lavinia. It was shaky, but genuine.
“I think we can,” Dido said.
The next day, when Aeneas saw the two girls huddled around the same cafeteria table at lunch, laughing together and sharing secrets, he turned on his heel and ran.
19
AFTER APRIL RETREATED TO HER TINY OFFICE-SLASH-guest-room with her coworker Mel, the women chatting about seam allowances and detachable panels and other topics that totally baffled Marcus, Alex turned toward him on the overstuffed couch.
“So you just followed your girlfriend home like a stray kitten and refused to leave her lap afterward?” Alex raised one dark brow, clearly amused. “Good move. Pathetic, of course, but effective.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong, necessarily. Irritating, yes. Incorrect, no.
As Alex knew all too well, after that first night with April, Marcus just . . . never left San Francisco. Not for longer than a weekend, anyway. Not for the past month.
He’d kept a nearby hotel room reserved in his name, paid for with his credit card, but he hadn’t spent much time in the suite. If at all possible, he never intended to. Its availability was more a statement to April. A declaration that he wouldn’t assume his welcome in her apartment, even though they were together now. Reassurance that if she tired of him, she could send him packing, and he’d have someplace to stay, even in the dark of night.
So far, though, she hadn’t seemed to mind his near-constant presence in her life and home. So far, he hadn’t experienced a single moment of regret for the choice to stay there.
Nothing was keeping him in Los Angeles, not until he picked another role, and he hadn’t done that yet, despite the ever-more-anxious emails sent by his faithful agent. April’s apartment was more comfortable than his house, if significantly smaller and less expensively furnished, and his filming schedule had kept him away from LA for months at a time before. The extended absence didn’t bother him. The Bay Area, despite its painful associations for him, had always felt more like home than Southern California anyway.
His current location also offered a certain amount of extra protection from paparazzi, who would travel north from LA for exclusive pics of a television star with his new girlfriend, but only grudgingly and for short periods of time.
Most importantly, staying in the area meant he now knew April hit snooze two times every morning. He’d memorized how her hazy brown eyes finally, reluctantly, blinked open in the warm glow of dawn as she stretched in bed, her hair tousled and her soft body shifting against his. He understood how the scent of her changed after one of her infrequent days on a job site, from roses in the morning to sweat and earth in the evening. He’d tasted her skin after one of those site visits, and after a lazy, shared weekend shower, and after she’d cried while reading a particularly bittersweet fic and he’d erased her tears with his mouth.
Staying meant he could spend his weekday mornings reading scripts and writing fics to post under a new name, before shopping for food and working out at the hotel gym in the afternoon. Staying meant making her dinner in the evenings. Making her laugh. Making her come.
Any mockery he might receive he considered well worth the reward.
“Can’t say I blame you for settling in,” Alex added. “Looks like a very comfortable lap.”
At that, Marcus narrowed his eyes at his friend. He hadn’t missed the swift but appreciative glance Alex had given April upon meeting her earlier that afternoon, or the way she’d blushed and almost giggled upon shaking Alex’s hand.
She hadn’t blushed and giggled when she’d met Marcus, he knew that for a fact.
Clearly he needed to find a less handsome best friend. That was the only sensible solution. Especially since said best friend was staying overnight in April’s apartment as their first joint guest, which now seemed an unwise decision.
Alex’s grin had only grown more obnoxious, and he held up his hands in feigned surrender. “No need to scowl at me like that, dude. I was stating an objective fact, not indicating any desire to climb into your lap of choice.” He snorted. “Besides, when it comes to female company, there’s no room at the inn. I’m full up.”
Excellent. “Lauren?”
As if Marcus didn’t know. Alex had been bitching nonstop about his assigned minder for weeks via text and email and occasional phone calls. At some point, Marcus expected a carrier pigeon to arrive at April’s apartment with a note strapped to its ankle reading goddammit lauren is such a fucking dour millstone. Or maybe a telegram instead: lauren says two drinks max stop which is unfair because she’s so short i could just rest my beer on her head stop.