LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(55)

“Yes.” The answer came out muffled as though she had her head in her hands.

“I take it you had the talk?”

“Yes.”

“It went that well, huh?”

She let out another groan.

It was obvious how upset she was, and my heart ached for her. She’d been a close friend for a long time, and I knew how badly she wanted to settle down and raise a family. I also knew just how hard that was given the scrutiny we received in our day-to-day lives. “I’m sorry, Polly. If he doesn’t know what a treasure you are, then he wasn’t worth it in the first place. You’re an amazing person, and you’re going to be an amazing mother with or without him in your life.”

“He wants to make it work.”

Her tone was so dejected it took a moment for her words to filter through. “Wait, what?” I asked, sitting straighter on the couch. “So you told him the truth and rather than run he wants to stay? Then why do you sound so upset?”

“Because you and I both know it will never work, Roman,” she said. “He’s a regular guy. He lives in the suburbs for fuck’s sake. He still gets a newspaper delivered every morning. Like actual printed words on paper that a kid on a bike throws onto the front porch. He owns a lawnmower and coaches a junior girls rec league soccer team because he did it once a decade ago when his twins were that age and just never stopped. And don’t get me started on his kids. They’d be subjected to just as much scrutiny as he would be and sure they’re in college so practically adults but still. Their father got an actress pregnant out of wedlock—can you even imagine what the tabloids are going to say about him? I can’t do that to them, Roman. I just can’t.”

I could hear the misery in her voice. “I’m sorry, Polly,” I said again, softer.

Just then Scotty came in, a glass of red wine in each hand. He glanced at me hesitantly, silently asking whether he should leave so I could continue the conversation in private. I waved him in and patted the spot next to me on the couch. He set the wineglasses down on the coffee table and then settled against my side. I draped my arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer, enjoying the warmth of his comforting presence.

She sighed. “I know. It’s just… it feels so unfair.” Her voice broke on the last word, and I heard her sniffle.

“Maybe you should give Howard a chance,” I offered.

At the mention of the man’s name, Scotty stiffened beside me. He pulled out from under my arm and started to stand. “This is private. I should go,” he murmured under his breath.

I snagged his wrist. “Stay,” I mouthed.

“What if I’m able to figure out who you’re talking about?” he asked. “That’s like state-secret-level information right there.”

It wasn’t likely Scotty would be able to guess Howard’s identity, but even if he did it wouldn’t matter. “I trust you,” I told him. And it was true.

He hesitated a moment longer before easing back against my side. I traced my fingertips idly up and down his arm as I pressed my point. “I’m serious, Pol,” I told her. “Howard’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions about his life. If you’ve told him what it will be like for him to date a celebrity, and he knows what he’s getting into, then it’s up to him whether he wants to take that on or not.”

She barked a laugh. “You know as well as I do that no one can truly know what they’re getting into,” she said. “Look at Pete. He thought he could handle it. He couldn’t.”

At the mention of my ex-boyfriend, I scowled. She had a point. But I still wasn’t willing to concede that easily.

Before I could respond she said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought Pete into this. It’s just, how do you take a regular guy like Howard and meld him into the chaotic life of Hollywood? He has yard art, Roman. Real, honest-to-god yard art. The tabloids are going to eat him alive.”

“Maybe he’s stronger than you give him credit for,” I suggested.

“He’s been through enough in his life. His wife’s death ripped a hole in him that’s taken years to heal.” She sounded defeated.

“Maybe that’s part of what made him stronger, Polly.”

She didn’t argue the point, which meant she was considering it. “And what if it doesn’t work out?” she asked. This time I could hear the fear in her voice. “What then? What if we start dating and they stomp all over his life and I get my hopes up and we don’t end up together after all?”

“What if it does work out?” I countered.

She didn’t have an immediate answer to that.

“Do you like him, Polly?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“And he cares for you?”

“He…” She paused and drew a breath. “He told me he loves me. But we’ve only spent that one long weekend together. Who falls in love that fast?”

I became acutely aware of Scotty resting against my side, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of him seeping through my shirt. I continued running my fingers lightly up and down his arm, watching goose bumps trail in the wake of my touch.

He must have realized that I was looking at him because he tilted his head back and looked up at me. He smiled before snuggling closer against me.