Another camera flash pulled me out of the recollection.
I blinked, as if dazed. Suddenly, Aubrey’s voice was at my ear. She smelled good and her breath on my ear and neck was just enough to bring me around. While I had no real interest in her, I was, after all, just a man.
“Are you okay?” she asked, looking up into my eyes with worry etched into her beautiful and polished face.
I stared at her for a moment, attempting to regain my composure and bearings. I glanced around at the massive crowds then back to her, slowly shaking my head. “No. I don’t... I don’t know what it is. I just need to get out of here.”
She said nothing, but she did her best to save me from whatever was happening. I smiled politely at the cameras as I walked briskly down the remainder of the red carpet. Aubrey was giving the cold shoulder to reporters in a polite and sexy way that only young actresses were capable of. It was the first time I could ever remember being impressed with anything about her aside from her acting talents and her body.
The people and the flashing lights passed by in a blur as Aubrey led me to the street. Our hands were interlocked and I found myself squeezing hers for reassurance. I focused on her dress, on her curves, and wondered what was wrong with me. I was pretty sure that any other actor in Hollywood—as well as millions of men worldwide—would give up anything to be holding hands and whisked away into a limo with Aubrey Henning. But, despite her sudden poise and heroics, I really wished I hadn’t asked her to come with to the premiere with me. It made me feel irresponsible and, quite honestly, ungrateful for the life I was living.
Lost in my own self-pity, the limo was there before I knew it. Aubrey went inside first, waving to the crowd. I gave my own little wave and then stepped in after her.
Once the door was closed, I nearly collapsed back against the seat. My breathing was heavy and labored and I realized that I was sweating.
“God, Devlin,” Aubrey said feeling my forehead with the back of her hand. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“Don’t call me that,” I said with a lazy grin on my face. “My name is Jack.”
“What?” She gave me a crazy look, twisting her head in such a way it reminded me of a confused little puppy.
I laughed at this for a moment. Then, for no reason I could clearly identify, the laughter turned into a sound bout of weeping. I hated myself for doing it, but I leaned over to Aubrey, found her shoulder, and let it out.
I was dimly aware of Aubrey telling the driver to take us back to the hotel. After that, the night passed by through the limo windows and I watched the lights of New York pass by like a bored child.
2—Devlin
Two hours later, I was having what I suppose was some sort of identity crisis. It wasn’t a mid-life crisis by any stretch of the imagination. I was only thirty-two. It was too early for that, at least I thought. Still…there was something going on inside of my heart that felt like two kids playing tug of war with their favorite blanket.
I stood at the hotel window, in nothing but my black boxer briefs, with a bottle of red wine in my hand. I had decided to go without the glass after after I finished the first one too quickly. It was the second bottle of Pinot Noir Aubrey and I had opened and, truth be told, she hadn’t gotten much of either. I had drank enough to try to clear my head and then, finding that the drinking only cluttered it, continued drinking in the hopes of making more sense of it.
It hadn’t worked so far.
Behind me, Aubrey was in the bed. She was dressed in one of those satin nighties that wasn’t quite so provocative as to be called lingerie, but it was sure as hell several steps above a simple night gown. It was black, with lace fringes around the chest—which was cut very low – and the bottom—which was cut very high. A photographer could have walked into the room and made a fortune off of a photo shoot with Aubrey in that little piece. She was still wearing her makeup and her long dark locks looked absolutely perfect, like they