instincts are screaming at me to say something else, do something else to make her feel better. But since I have no real idea what the problem is, I force myself to wait for her to tell me.
She takes a deep breath, the sound of her inhale carrying over the phone. “We need to be engaged. Maybe actually get married too.”
Blink. Blink blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
She exhales loudly. “I just got off the phone with my agent. You were right about them taking pictures of us. I haven’t looked yet, but apparently there’s one of us, and I’m quote, ‘practically dry-humping some man.’ Delores said she could spin it best if we were really serious. Like wedding bells serious. I assured her we were, so …”
“So … now I need to add ring shopping to my to-do list.”
“Uhh, yeah. I mean, I can get my own ring. Or I can pick one out and send you the link if you insist on getting it. I don’t care either way.” She’s babbling, and I tune her out for a second so I can rearrange what’s happening in my head, already reaching for my tablet to start adding things to my actual to-do list. This is … not how I’d planned on this working. I’d figured I was in control of the situation. I was driving this crazy-train—because let’s be real, this is pretty crazy, especially now that an engagement and possibly an actual wedding is involved—but somehow she’s managed to flip a switch and change what track we’re on.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I interrupt. She releases an audible sigh of relief, whether from my agreement or stopping her babbling, I’m not sure. My dick twitches, confusing that sigh with the sexy one from my dream, but I ignore it. “I’ll get the ring, but if you want to send me ideas of what to get and your ring size, that would be good. If we’re going to be engaged, should we do a public proposal? Or did you tell your agent that we’re already engaged.”
“Oh, uh …” She’s hesitating, and I don’t know what to make of it. “I’m not sure. I can check with her and get back to you.”
“That’s … yeah, that’s a good idea.” It doesn’t escape my notice that she didn’t clarify exactly what she told her agent, but letting her agent have a say in the narrative we’re putting out is for the best. I might have a pretty good idea of what’s what in the industry and how things play with the media given my tenure with Jonathan. But I haven’t been carefully crafting Alexis’s image and career in order to make her marketable. Her agent will know whether it’s best to announce our engagement as a fait accompli or whether we should stage it as a public performance. It could really go either way. And even if she said we were already engaged, re-proposing in front of a crowd isn’t exactly the most outlandish thing anyone’s ever done in show business.
“Okay.” She sounds more relaxed, more like the girl I spoke to last night. “I’ll let you know what she says. And Colt?” Her voice sounds more unsure again when she says my name.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” The words are quiet, heavy with … something. Relief? Gratitude? Lust? All of the above?
I’d be relieved and grateful if lust were in the mix, but I’m not going to push anything. Not unless she gives me a sign that she’s receptive to more than public kissing.
“You’re welcome,” I say just as softly, putting just as much weight behind the words.
Because while she might be grateful for my help rehabbing her image, I’m just as grateful for the opportunity to chart a new course for my life.
Now I just have to tell Jonathan.
I find my way to my brother’s hotel room a little earlier than absolutely necessary. We’re booked from lunch through till after dinner—press meetings, logistics meetings, preparing the set lists for the upcoming concerts, working in Gabby’s collaborations around their performance schedule. There are always a thousand moving parts, and it’s my job to keep track of them all.
I have spreadsheets for almost everything. I excel at Excel. Ha.
But while I am damn good at my job, it’s never what I wanted to do forever. I didn’t even want to do it for as long as I have. We all know it’s high time I pursued my own career goals.