Winning Hollywood's Goodest Gir - Max Monroe Page 0,112

shake my head and look at Harrison. “I said I didn’t want to do it, but apparently, it’s complicated because Heidi already promised I would.”

“Well, she’s just going to have to unpromise, then,” Harrison snaps. Months and months of time spent together, and this is one of the only times I’ve ever seen him truly angry. “We’re not exploiting our newborn. Not for money, not for a career. Period.”

Heidi moves her eyes to me, a pointed brow to remind me of what’s at stake. In the name of keeping things calm inside my apartment, I do my best to walk the fine line between the two of them. “We’ll have to talk. Figure it out. See what Heidi can do—”

“No,” Harrison interrupts. “We’re not going to figure anything out. It’s figured out. Heidi is going to tell them we’re not going to do it, or we’re going to tell her she doesn’t work for us anymore.”

Already on edge, my hackles rise at the use of “us” and the fact that he so swiftly cut me off before I could finish. “Work for us?” I say, questioning it with a little more anger in my voice than I expect.

“Us, you, whatever,” he responds, his irritation more than apparent by the harsh tone of his voice. “Don’t try to justify this with semantics, Rock. We agreed that this wasn’t going to happen.”

“Can I talk to you privately?” I finally say, losing my temper as Heidi looks on with a smirk.

Harrison turns and walks back to the bedroom without saying a word, and I follow.

I step inside behind him and close the door, and he doesn’t hesitate to fire the first shot.

“I can’t believe you would even entertain that shit, Rock. For fuck’s sake, have some fucking backbone.”

My spine, called to arms, straightens on demand. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, baby. You let that woman walk all fucking over you. Spike heels, boots, the tread doesn’t matter. As long as you get your money and so does she.”

Get my money? Seriously?

“Hey!” I shout. “What the fuck?”

He turns to face the other side of the room and runs both his hands through his hair, and I turn him back with a jerk at his elbow. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“That’s what I’m asking you,” he says. “I thought we were beyond this, but apparently not. You’re still her little fucking puppet.”

“I think you need to leave,” I tell him, feeling like everything is crumbling around me and leaving me no way out. I don’t want to fight with him, but he doesn’t understand the position I’m in either. And no matter what, I don’t need him to speak for me. I don’t need anyone to speak for me but myself.

Christ, he’s the one who taught me that.

“Leave?”

I nod. “Maybe we both need a little distance and time. We should just take the day and try again tomorrow.”

“You really want me to leave?” he asks, clearly hurt.

“Yes,” I confirm. “So we don’t end up saying things we can’t take back. I don’t start shooting tomorrow morning until eleven. Come here beforehand, and we’ll talk everything over once we’ve had time to cool down.”

“Rocky—”

“Just…go,” I say, voice quiet. “You cool off. I’ll cool off. And we’ll talk tomorrow.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, but words don’t come out, and I’m so close to giving in and telling him not to leave. But ultimately, he grabs his phone and wallet and keys from my nightstand and walks out of the room without looking back.

I swear, a little piece of me crumbles right there.

Tears threaten to fill my eyes, but I blink them back with a tight squeeze.

Ugh. This sucks so hard. But the conversation had already twisted down this awful, irrational path, and we need to wait until we’re calm to talk about this again.

I know I’m doing the right thing—forcing us to take a step back until cooler heads prevail—but watching him walk out of the room angry feels like I’m hacking off my own arm.

Tomorrow, I tell myself. It’s just one day. We’ll fix everything tomorrow.

Harrison

Sometimes, the best thing you can do is admit when you’re the asshole.

My eyes are bloodshot, and my chest feels like lead as I walk down the hall toward Rocky’s apartment. I slept like shit and I know I probably should’ve waited until it was at least eight in the morning to show up at her door, but when the clock struck seven, I couldn’t wait any