The Decoy Girlfriend(97)
This early, there are no customers yet, and Stori’s still packing up preorders, but that could change any second. The last time they assumed they had privacy here, they were swiftly proven wrong.
“Let’s go out to the bookgarten,” says Freya. “It’s more private.”
They seat themselves on one of the white wrought-iron bistro sets. Taft’s gaze follows the climbing roses ascending the brick wall before shooting back to her with a fierceness. “I know you’re cautious because I’ve fucked up before. But if you let me, I promise you, I will be gentle with your heart.”
“I know you’ll try, Taft. But I meant what I said—I don’t want to wear a mask ever again. I don’t want to hide who I am or who I’m with, and for a minute, that was what you were offering. It’s not enough.”
“It’s not enough for me, either. You were right: we’re too important to compromise on. If they want me badly enough, they’ll agree to my terms.”
“And what are those terms?”
He reaches across the table to clasp her hands. “That I’m ready to walk if their offer hinges on continuing a fake relationship with Mandi. She’s not my headline name. My red carpet is reserved solely for Freya Lal,” he says quietly. “If she’ll still have me.”
“You’re ready to walk?” Her eyes widen. “And Mandi’s okay with that?”
“She basically told me what you’ve been telling me: what I want doesn’t matter any less than what someone else wants. But it didn’t truly sink in until you left. And when Mandi told me she’d choose my happiness over the movies, I realized . . . wow, how lucky am I? Two of the people I love the most chose me over themselves. Most people don’t even get that once. I was a selfish dick, and I will spend every day making it up to you if you can still see a future for—”
“Wait, did you say you love me?” Freya tries not to tremble or show her emotions, but from the absolutely wrecked way he’s looking at her, she’s sure she’s failing abysmally.
“I love you,” Taft states simply, leaning in until they’re sharing the same breath. No pretty words and no scripted lines make it mean all the more. “There are no dream roles or dream opportunities without my dream girl.”
The hint of a question in his eyes makes Freya realize he’s waiting for some kind of confirmation.
She’s never seen him this unsure.
“Fictionalize the future for me,” she says. “Tell me what happens next.”
“Next, I’d like to kiss you. Or you can kiss me. I’m not picky,” says Taft. “And then I’ll get up and make you a coffee because I’ll always make my girl a coffee. I’ll bring her fresh cups whenever she wants, and I promise not to push a tea agenda.”
She cracks a smile at that one.
“And then I’ll blow off all those interview requests and spend the rest of the day here with you so you’ll know what Moira says as soon as I do. But no matter what message she bears, nothing is going to change for us, Freya. From this moment on, I will always choose you.”
She touches her lips to his, traces the planes of his face with her hands. “And then what?”
“I’ll tell Moira that I want to be with you and ask her to help us figure it out. She has my back. And then, maybe before the indie film starts shooting, we could go visit your dad? I’d really like to meet him.”
Freya smiles against his lips. They aren’t playing roles anymore, they’re building a life.
“But, baby,” Taft whispers, his hands catching her face. “None of this is fiction. This is our future. This is me in love with you so goddamn much that I’m not doing what I really want to do right now. We’ve been apart for a day and I already know I hate not seeing these beautiful brown eyes, not kissing these lips. So the only question left is: Is this a future you could want?”
Her heartbeat quickens. “God, Taft, I . . . You’ve outlined our story so well, how could I not? Might make a writer out of you, yet.”
Taft laughs. “God, no. But speaking of . . . Have you heard from your agent yet?”
“Alma loved the manuscript,” Freya confides. “She has some notes I’m working on, but she thinks it’s going to be my comeback book.”
“I can’t wait to read it. But maybe I’ll save it for the plane.”
“The plane?”
Taft nods. “If they still want me for Banshee after my counteroffer, think you could revise on the moors?”
“Wait. Are you asking me to . . . join you?”
“Yes, if that’s what you want. It wouldn’t be for a few weeks, but I have a really comfy trailer that I would love to share with my girlfriend. Or the girl I hope will be my girlfriend. I don’t want to hide her—I want to show her off. Take her places to eat cake and wander bookshops and dance in clubs.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for that, Taft?”
“With you, I’m ready for anything.” His smile makes her blood sing. “With you, I’m ready for everything.”
Finally, we’re both on the same page. So this is what it feels like to be with a man who wants her as much as she wants him. Who’s willing to walk away from fame and fortune for her: Freya Lal, headline name.