Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet #2) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,42
found with her these past weeks. Not for any reason. But certainly not to please the executive producer of some reality TV singing competition that’s contractually obligated to pay me, regardless.
Even if I were only “pretending” to be a dick to Laila again, I worry I might genuinely hurt her feelings somehow. And I don’t want to risk that. So, all day long, I’ve sat back and let Laila take the lead in delivering the “hate-lust” dynamic Nadine requested yesterday. And guess what? Laila has followed my lead. She’s returned my every smile, laughed at my jokes, and squeezed my hand every time I’ve squeezed hers. And before I knew it, the shooting day was done, and Laila and I had given the audience a whole lot more of the same—a blissfully happy couple that adores each other, can’t keep their hands off each other, and laughs at each other’s jokes. Even the stupid ones. And I’m not sorry about it. Not even a little bit.
Our usual bodyguard closes the door behind Laila as she gets settled into the back seat of the SUV next to me. “It’s a disaster,” Laila mutters, repeating her earlier refrain. “A total and complete disaster!”
I chuckle and pull her to me. “I think you should pick another word besides ‘disaster,’ babe. Repeating the same word, over and over, makes it lose its punch.”
“Catastrophe. Calamity. Crisis. Any word you want to use, today wasn’t good.”
“Fuck Nadine. The audience will love seeing us happy and the ratings will reflect that. And if not, oh well. You and I will get paid the same amount, either way. We’ll flip Nadine the bird on our way to the bank, baby.”
The car heads toward the exit of the studio’s parking lot, and Laila looks out her window, her body language stiff and encumbered. In fact, she looks like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“You worry too much, Fitzy,” I say. “I’m telling you, the audience will love us being happy.”
I wait for her to reply, to smile and exhale and say I’m right. And when she doesn’t, I sigh and pick up my phone to reply to some texts from throughout the day. I deal with a group chat from Reed Rivers about my band’s imminent album release. I text Sasha to confirm my upcoming travel plans and shoot a quick selfie video for Sasha to show Mimi when she wakes up in the morning, since I’ve unfortunately missed singing Mimi to sleep again, the same thing that’s happened the past few nights, thanks to Mimi’s exhaustion from the move into the new house, my busy shooting schedule with the show, and the time difference between Chicago and LA. And, finally, last but not least, I reply to a text from my best friend, who’s expressed excitement about joining the show tomorrow afternoon for Mentor Day.
Me: I can’t wait for you to see the bullshit dog and pony show for yourself, KC. This show is everything I hate, all rolled into one. Thank God for Laila sitting there with me.
Kendrick: Speaking of Laila, I’ve acquired some fascinating information that relates to her supposed fling with Charlie the Fitness Trainer during the tour.
Me: It’s not a supposed fling. Laila confirmed it herself when I saw her at the awards show.
Kendrick: She lied. In the middle of our training session today, Charlie got a phone call from his HUSBAND. I guess it’s possible Charlie is a bisexual adulterer, but I think the more likely scenario is that you’re a paranoid nut job and Laila is a liar who knows how to push your buttons to maximum effect. LMFAO!
My heart lurching into my throat, I look at Laila sitting next to me in the car, to find her texting away on her phone, and an unexpected torrent of conflicting emotions floods me. Anger, relief, rejection. Anger that Laila took my jealousy and paranoia and stoked it, solely to mess with me. Relief that Laila didn’t fuck Charlie on the tour, as I’ve thought for so long.
But, mostly, I’m feeling acute rejection in this moment. As jealous as I was to think of Laila choosing Charlie over me during the last month of the tour, a piece of me found weird solace in that idea. If Laila hadn’t jumped into something with me after the amazing night of the hot tub, then I had to come up with some reason for that. Someone else had caught her eye. Someone