I tried to hold it in, I really did. But my tongue was loosened by the two beers I’d consumed. I finally pointed a finger at him and chortled before saying, “You never will hold that title. Not as long as I’m alive.”
I thought my comment went unnoticed by the megastar until a few days later. He showed up, unsurprisingly without an appointment, but this time he didn’t ask to see Carys. Beckett Miller dropped into one of the waiting chairs and stared at me, rubbing his forefinger across his full lips for hours. But he didn’t utter a single word.
This unusual behavior lasted several days, and for the longest time, I wondered if he was going to ask me out. I began panicking before the more jaded side of me kicked in. It wouldn’t be the first time someone put two and two together and in an effort to boost their notoriety made a half-hearted pass on me.
But he didn’t want that either.
It was about a week later when the gladiolus bouquet landed on my desk. I stood, prepared to carry them in to David as Carys often received flowers from her artists, when I heard a cough. Becks was leaning against the door. He merely shook his head before turning around and leaving.
Shaking, I returned to my desk and placed the heavy vase down before opening the card.
For standing tall and holding your head high no matter what can be thrown at you by those bastards—then or now. - BM
With trembling fingers, I put the card in my desk, knowing Beckett Miller just became an ally as much as Sula and Carys were. No judgment over what I’d done, no questions asked. Just support. Something I’d received from so few. Something that the media on one side or the other persistently tries to strip from me.
Back then, the people who believed in me couldn’t do anything, and those who didn’t turned away. Now, each time I let someone in, it creates a small crack in the armor around my heart that I’m not prepared to defend.
I’m not sure I can afford too many more before all my defenses crumble.
Like right now. Despite the fact he knows his presence irritates David to no end, Becks still rolled out of some bed and made the trek to check on me. I give him a real smile, something I so rarely do it stretches unused muscles in my face. “I am.”
“Liar.” But Becks’s smile takes away the sting of his words.
“I have to be okay, Becks. If I’m not breathing, I’m dying. And if I’m dying, they won.” I briefly let my lashes flutter shut. “In my heart, I still believe I did the right thing.”
“You did.” His voice is full of such conviction, it feels like a warm blanket has been wrapped around my cool skin.
“Do you ever think they’ll forget about me?” I wonder aloud. It’s my biggest fantasy.
He snorts. “I think there’s a bigger chance of me fathering Carrie’s next baby.”
“You are such a scoundrel.” I reach out and slap him on the arm.
He captures my hand between both of his tattooed ones, his head tipping to the side as he contemplates his answer. Finally he says, “Angie, if this was the time before social media and things like Timehops, TikTok, and all that crap, maybe. Your face might fade out of their minds. But now? Every year, gossipmongers are reminded of what they tittered about last year, the year before. Hell, even five, ten years ago.”
“Where were you when Angela Fahey’s accusations against the son of XMedia’s owner of sexual assault were proved to be unfounded?” I murmur aloud.
“Where were you when Beckett Miller was admitted into rehab for his cocaine addiction?” He recalls his latest negative tabloid sensation—the one that days ago had Ward in a tither.
Our eyes lock over our joined hands. “My beautiful friend, both stories are false. But to the media-hungry world, they’re in print.”
“Therefore they must be true,” I conclude sadly. “I’ll never understand how you do it every day.”
“Do what?”
“Go out there with such a devil-may-care attitude.”
Becks’s lips quirk before he turns to fully face me. “Probably because I listen to only about thirty percent of what they have to say about me.”
“Becks…”
“And when I land on the front page, I pay Carrie an epic amount of money to handle it for me. Unless it’s in good fun.” He winks before concluding, “Then I let it ride. Kind of like calling David ‘Dave.’”
I grin. “You’re a menace of a good man, Becks.”
He contemplates that before nodding. “I like the way that sounds.”
“You would.”
“Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re smiling, is there someone for me to talk with?” His smile turns sheepish.
I prop my hand on my chin. “What did you get into this time? Or should I say who?”
“It’s a where, beauty. I was at Redemption. I might have deliberately slammed into some reporters on my way out last night.” He lifts his shoulders in a careless shrug that just shows off his custom-made suit. “They may have been holding recording devices.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“That I am.” When his true smile is aimed at me, I understand why half of the population of the globe would love to be in the position I am right now. Beckett Miller is just adorable.
“I’ve heard Redemption’s amazing.” I change the topic before Becks gets lost on listing his redeeming qualities.
“I keep offering…” he starts before a rude cough sounds behind us.
And there he is. Dark eyes. Thick hair mussed like he’s had a rough night of his own. But at least he made it in before noon, I think a bit uncharitably.
“Did you need something, Becks?” Ward addresses Becks directly after running his eyes up and down me so quickly as if he’s confirming I’m properly dressed in my school uniform. Not that I want Ward turning those dark, slumberous eyes my way, but being polite to the person who’s responsible for your schedule is considered good form. Especially when I could make it so booked he doesn’t have time to use the restroom.
Becks narrows his eyes to blast the younger man, but I give him a sharp shake of my head. I don’t need the additional attention any day, but most especially not today. “Fine.” And I know that’s for both me and Ward. “Until later, beauty,” Becks advises me as he follows Ward through the heavy wood doors.
I curve my lips at Becks, earning myself a blinding glare from Ward, who turns to open the door. Becks taps his phone and winks. Right. My cell’s off. I open my desk and pull out my phone. When I turn it on, it immediately starts vibrating in my hand. Then my countenance softens when I see the one from Becks. Dinner at Carys and David’s tonight. We’re not taking no for an answer. We’ll make certain you get back to your hideaway.
I hold the phone to my chest for just a moment, grateful that the people I work with actually know who I am and care about what today means to me. Just as the euphoria washes over me, a new text comes in from Sula.
Are you okay? I saw the news about XMedia. Call me as soon as you can.
No, I’m not, I think grimly. But I really have no choice. And I make a mental note to call Sula at some point during the day if possible. I send her a quick text back, letting her know I’ll contact her later—that we’re in crisis mode at work with no internet. Her laughing emoji does much to lift my spirits even as I groan. “What a freaking morning.”