The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,1

me.

Still, the accusation lay there like a brick in my stomach.

I had to address this. I had to know.

“Hey, babe!” he said, leaning down to give me a kiss.

I turned my face at the last moment, and he kissed my cheek.

Fire burned in my veins. Fear. This was fear. I knew what cheaters were like. My dad was a prime example. Josh knew all about that. He wouldn’t do this to me.

I searched his eyes. Those kind and caring baby blues I’d fallen in love with. The man of my dreams.

“Can we talk?” I asked, trying to keep the hitch out of my voice.

His brow furrowed. “Sure. We have an hour for lunch. Let’s get out of here.”

He tried to sling his arm over my shoulders, but I stepped out of his embrace. “We should talk before lunch.”

“Babe?”

I took his arm and drew him away from the filmmaker and crew and stagehands. I needed to be alone with him. I needed to know.

We walked back to his trailer, and it wasn’t until we were in the small room full of recycled air that I spoke, “Are you sleeping with Celeste?”

“What?” he gasped.

“Tell me the truth.”

“English, how could you even ask me that?” He reached out and took my hands in his. He looked bereft without his wedding ring on. I knew it was for the film, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “I love you, honey.”

“You haven’t answered me,” I told him, pulling my hands back.

“No,” he said automatically. “Of course not. No. Celeste and I work together. What you saw back there was just on-screen chemistry.” He gestured to the stage. “It’s not real. You know that.”

“I do. But the crew said…”

“What did they say?” he asked.

“They said that you two were off today because I was here. That you and Celeste were sleeping together. Fuck, they said they felt bad for me.”

Fresh tears rose to my eyes, and I choked on the final words. I wanted to be the strong celebrity publicist who could take on the world with one fierce glare. But this was my life. My life falling apart.

“Oh, baby,” he said, pulling me against him. “I’m so sorry you heard that. It’s not true. It’s just gossip.”

I hiccuped once, desperately wanting to believe him. But something felt wrong. It still felt so wrong. I pulled back and swiped at my eyes, angry with myself for crying. “You promise?”

“Yes, of course. Nothing is going on.”

“Can I ask Celeste?”

He froze in place. Trapped. Caught.

“Oh god,” I whispered. “You really did it, didn’t you?”

“No, no, no,” he said, denying it again.

“Then, I’ll ask Celeste and see what she says,” I said, angling for the trailer door.

Josh blocked my way. “You don’t trust me? English, come on. You know me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Josh, think about who I am. I deal with cheating spouses every damn day of my life. I know the signs. And I know that if you won’t let me talk to Celeste, then that’s proof enough.”

He sighed heavily and slumped forward in defeat. “Okay. Okay.”

I waited, crossing my arms over my chest.

“We did.” He cleared his throat. “We did sleep together.”

I wrenched back in shock at the words. “How could you? Are you in love with her?”

“No, English. No. It’s not like that. I don’t care for her. I love you.”

“You liked her enough to fuck her!” I screamed back at him.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… it’s a publicity stunt.”

“You dare say that to me?” I asked dangerously.

“It is. I swear. We did it to help the movie. It worked for Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and we wanted that for this movie, too.”

“You didn’t even tell me the movie needed help. I’m a fucking publicist, Josh. This is my job. And anyway, you could have come to me. You could have told me the problem. We could have fixed it together. In fact, you could have just told the press that you were sleeping together. What the fuck do I care about stupid rumors? You didn’t have to actually fuck her!”

“You’re right. You’re so right, English. I’m sorry.” He reached for me, but I swatted him away.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Josh.”

Josh sank to his knees in front of me. “I love you, English. Tell me how to make this right.”

I shook my head. There was no making this right. There never would be. “If this is how you treat people you love, then you can go fuck yourself.”

I pushed past him and

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