a better look for the media and my label has turned into something a lot messier and fraught than I could’ve predicted.
I should’ve, though. I mean … what kind of moron am I that I didn’t think telling my agent we were getting engaged was a big deal? That when she declared we needed to elope, I didn’t push back on that? Because, I mean, if we’re so close to promising to marry each other, then that means we’re ready for the whole thing, right?
Except it’s all a farce.
Though the feelings I’m developing for Colt are very, very real. And trying to keep my distance is going to get a lot harder now that we’re going to be sleeping in the same bed and living under the same roof.
It was one thing when we spent half the day together. I still had some time to myself. Some space to myself. Time and space I used to get my head back on straight each night and remind myself of my goals and what’s at stake.
Now …
Now I have him smushed up against me twenty-four seven.
How am I going to resist him when he’s so sweet, so charming, so caring?
When was the last time anyone not related to me cared about me as much as he seems to?
I don’t even want to contemplate the answers to those questions, so I focus on the mundane tasks of using the bathroom, changing clothes, and washing my face. It’s still fairly early in the evening. There are hours stretching out in front of us before bedtime, before we spend even more hours under the same blankets on the same mattress. And I’m spending as much time as humanly possible in this decadent bathroom with a walk-in rain shower big enough for a family of four to fit comfortably inside.
Flashes of Colt and I in there together flicker behind my eyes, but I hastily stop those images before they can go too far.
Except I’ve seen recent pictures of him shirtless—he appeared in a spread about a beach trip to Fiji he took with his brothers and their wives last winter. And I’ve hugged him enough times to know he’s still just as defined as he was then.
The idea of water sluicing over all those bumps and grooves of muscle … the V that I know he has, leading to …
Bzzzt. Record scratch. Stop that train of thought in its tracks. Derail it and turn it into a smoking pile of rubble.
That way lies madness.
I can’t be fantasizing about my husband-in-name-only while simultaneously pushing him away. Because I’m well aware that he’d happily turn our on-paper relationship into something more real. Even if it won’t last forever, even if it is a business-based decision, he’d happily explore a physical relationship with me. He’s basically said as much, and I put on the brakes.
Because I don’t know if I’m capable of keeping the business decision and the rest of our lives together separate. If I’m capable of keeping up the pretense if things between us turn sour before our time together is up.
And so I’m hiding.
In a few more minutes, I’ll go back out there and pretend I’m fine.
Because I am fine. This is fine. Everything’s fine.
With those words echoing in my head, I step out of my dress and into my comfy clothes, preparing for a night of conversation and maybe a movie.
Colt is a perfect gentleman on our wedding night and every night after that. We spend a few days in the hotel for appearances’ sake, watching movies, eating way too much, and generally being lazy.
Delores calls to update me that our “leaked” wedding pictures have been well received and she already has entertainment news sites asking for the exclusive on the official pictures. Of course, all that money has to be donated to charity. The fact that I could use it doesn’t really matter, because of my celebrity status, even if I’m on the D-list, keeping the money would look selfish. Besides, the point isn’t to make money off the photos. It’s to make myself marketable for a record label and keep my name in the public eye so I can have a career, which will pay off financially in the long term.
Groaning after our last decadent breakfast, I stand and stretch, making sure to keep my face turned away so I don’t have to see the heated look on Colt’s face. I’ve caught him looking at me like that too many times since we’ve