Over the next few weeks, Alice and Griffin fell into a cozy domestic routine: he’d get up early, go for a run, then come back and make breakfast for the two of them. He was on a diet again, but he always made some kind of carbs for her—toast, or a bagel, or pancakes when he was feeling extra energetic—to go with the poached eggs he ate every day.

Alice had actually started to like poached eggs—or maybe it was just Griffin’s eggs she liked. And no, that was not a euphemism, but maybe it should have been.

After breakfast, they’d clean up together, then Griffin would try to stay out of her way for the next few hours so she could get some work done. Unfortunately, she didn’t always make a lot of progress. She was too aware of him in the next room, and she’d get distracted listening for sounds of him moving around the house—or even just staring into space daydreaming about him.

The pull between them was irresistible. It was like a tangible force that crackled in the air whenever they were within a hundred feet of each other. Even locked away in her room, the knowledge that Griffin was just on the other side of the wall presented a permanent distraction that itched at the back of Alice’s skull, tempting her to chuck it all and go see what he was doing.

She needed to work. She was so close to the light at the end of the tunnel that she could practically taste it, but it remained persistently out of reach. Working was next to impossible when she knew Griffin was at loose ends in the next room, just waiting for her to emerge and hang out with him. The temptation to blow it all off and snuggle on the couch with him was too great.

He had consumed her whole life. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Wanting him. She was obsessed, in a way she’d never been obsessed over a man before. They had sex like rabbits, all over the house: his room, her room, the living room, the kitchen, even the deck, may his neighbors forgive them.

It was amazing. She’d never in her life experienced anything like this before.

Was this what love felt like?

Alice was afraid to let herself go too far down that road. As doting as Griffin seemed when they were together, she couldn’t be certain his feelings were as strong as hers. After he’d pledged his affections that first night, he hadn’t repeated the sentiments—not in actual words, anyway. It didn’t seem to be his style. He wasn’t the guy who whispered sweet nothings or wrote love notes.

Instead, he gave her mind-blowing orgasms and made her laugh until she nearly peed. He cooked for her, bought her favorite flavor of ice cream, and let her pick what movie they watched.

She had nothing whatsoever to complain about. Except for this tiny, gnawing insecurity that wouldn’t go away.

Griffin was always Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, so how was she supposed to know when all that happy ease signaled something deeper than just a good time? Just because she’d fallen like a ton of bricks didn’t mean he had. He’d already admitted he didn’t have a good track record with serious, lasting relationships. Maybe it wasn’t his thing.

But maybe it could be. There were times, when they were together—the way he looked at her or touched her made it easy to believe he might love her, even if he didn’t come right out and say the words.

There were other times, though, that left her doubting. He didn’t seem to have any trouble compartmentalizing, for one thing. When he needed to go off and learn his lines for a rehearsal, he went off and learned his lines with no problem. And when he was supposed to be letting her work, he left her alone. Just like that. As easy as flipping a switch. He didn’t seem nearly as distracted and obsessed as she was, and that worried her. Did it mean he wasn’t as invested, or was it simply that he was better at prioritizing than she was?

The absolute worst, though, was when he had a date with Kimberleigh. Alice would watch him picking out his clothes, styling his hair, and trimming his stubble to the perfect fashionable length, carefree as ever while he performed these pre-date rituals he’d never once performed for her benefit. He didn’t think twice about the fact that he was going out on dates with another woman. Holding hands with another woman. Kissing another woman. All the things he was supposed to save for Alice, he was doing with someone else. And he didn’t even seem to feel bad about it.

She told herself it was because he was an actor, and this was just another role to him. Alice didn’t think it would have bothered her so much if that were actually true. If he was doing it under lights on a soundstage in front of grips and teamsters, with a lav mic tucked under his shirt, she would have been fine with it. That was work.

What he was doing with Kimberleigh was something else. They were unsupervised, out on their own in public. Worst of all, everyone in the world believed they were in love. Even Alice’s closest friends.

It made her feel like Griffin’s dirty secret. Worse than that, it made her feel isolated and alone.

Griffin was doing a live Q&A from the dining room. Alice could hear the garbled voices of the fans videoing in to ask questions, and Griffin’s cheerful, jokey answers. It was some charity thing his publicist had set up to bring attention to a good cause, in this case a home for cancer patients and their families who had to travel for treatment. But it was also meant to polish Griffin’s star a little and help push him—and Kimberleigh—into the next entertainment news cycle.

He was getting a lot of questions about her, of course. Alice’s jaw clenched every time she heard him say Kimberleigh’s name. Why were the walls in this house so goddamned thin?

Also, why had she left her phone in the living room? Now she couldn’t get it without walking through the middle of Griffin’s Q&A. She was trapped in the back of the house until he finished. Not that she really needed her phone when she was supposed to be working, but she wanted it. It wasn’t like she was actually getting any writing done right now, so she might as well be playing Pokémon Quest.

Alice opened her bedroom door and peeked out. It didn’t sound like Griffin was even getting close to wrapping up out there. She crept down the hall. When she got to the end, she dropped to her hands and knees and started crawling.

She’d almost made it through the dining room when she heard Griffin laugh. “That’s my dog sitter crawling past back there. Everyone say hi to her!”

Alice fast-crawled the rest of the way out of the shot, then got to her feet to glare at him. He gave her a shrug and a lopsided grin, then went right back to answering fan questions. Annoyed, she snatched her phone off the coffee table and went out to the deck. At least out there she didn’t have to listen to him answering insipid questions about his love life with bald-faced lies.

Twenty minutes later, Alice heard the patio door slide open and Griffin’s hands settled on her shoulders. “Hey,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m all done.”

She kept her eyes on her phone and didn’t say a word.

He sat down on the lounge chair, nudging her legs aside to make room. “Alice? Hello?” He waved his hand in front of her face.

“What?” she asked, lowering her phone.

His brow furrowed. “Are you mad?”

“No.” She got up and went inside to the kitchen, then jerked the refrigerator door open and grabbed a bottle of water.

Griffin trailed after her, looking irritated. “Can we not play this game? Just tell me what the fuck the problem is.”

She slammed the fridge door. “Why would I have a problem? Because you made me look like a fool in front of god-only-knows how many people on the internet?”

“I didn’t make you crawl through the background. You decided to do that all on your own.”

“No, you just called me your dog sitter.”

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “What did you want me to say instead?”

“I don’t know, since I guess the truth is too much to expect.”

Griffin stared at her. “You think I should have just casually announced in the middle of a live Q&A that Kimberleigh and I are a sham and you’re my real live-in girlfriend? Is that actually what you expected me to do? After all the effort I and other people have put into selling my relationship with Kimberleigh for the press?”

As Alice stared back at him, she felt some of her anger drain away, only to be replaced by a sense of despondency. “Am I your girlfriend? Because it doesn’t really feel like it sometimes.”

Dismay washed over Griffin’s face. “Alice.” He stepped forward and grasped her arms. “Of course you’re my girlfriend.”

She nodded numbly, and he surrounded her with his arms.

“I know this situation sucks for you, and I’m sorry.” He clasped her face in his hands, gazing at her tenderly. “I’m sorry, okay?” He brushed a silken kiss against her lips. “You’re not just my dog sitter. You’re so much more important than that.” As he kissed her again, the warm, intoxicating sensation curled around her like a protective cocoon. It was so easy to let herself be carried away by the soft, insistent pull of his lips. To forget everything else…

Alice put her hands on Griffin’s chest and drew her head back to look at him. “Are we ever going to talk about this Kimberleigh thing? Do I ever get a say in any of this, or am I just expected to go along with it like a good little soldier?”

Confusion creased his brow. “What do you mean? We did talk about it—that first morning, when I left for brunch.”

“We talked about it for forty seconds when you were halfway out the door already.”

“You said you were okay with it. I didn’t know we needed to do more talking.”

“You asked me to tell you I was okay with it because you had to leave, so I told you what you wanted to hear instead of making a scene.”

He stiffened and let go of her. “Are you saying you want me to back out of this agreement with Kimberleigh? Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

Yes, Alice thought, and If I was, would you? Would you even do that for me?

She didn’t want to know the answer. She would never ask him to do it anyway. This was his career, and she had no right to interfere in it. Would he ask her to quit school for him? Would she even consider it if he did?

Definitely not. She’d walk right out the door as soon as the request left his lips, is what she’d do.

“No,” she told him, “of course not.”

“Are you sure?” Deep furrows sprouted across his forehead. “Because if so, that’s something we need to talk about.”

She shook her head, terrified suddenly of losing him, and reached for his hand. Wetness blurred her eyes as she entwined her fingers with his. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

He took a breath and released it. Closing the distance between them, he tipped her chin up and gazed at her with troubled blue eyes. “Then what? Talk to me.”

It was hard to look directly at him while admitting this, but she forced herself to do it. “I guess I—” She swallowed. “I don’t trust this.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. “You mean you don’t trust me.”

Alice looked away. “I’m not sure I have it in me to trust anyone anymore.”

Griffin sighed deeply and pulled her against his chest. “I guess I understand why. I just wish I could take all that pain away.” His heart thumped against her cheek as he swept his hands over her tense back. “I swear to you, I won’t ever hurt you.”

It should have made her feel better, hearing that. Instead, it set her even more on edge.

People always hurt each other eventually, even if they didn’t mean to. Even if Griffin’s intentions were pure and good, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t ever break her heart one day. Alice honestly didn’t know how people did it, trusting each other. Enjoying happiness without thinking about the pain that might lie around the next corner.

Griffin kissed the top of her head, then her temple, nuzzling her hair. His fingers caressed her cheekbone and jaw, and he angled her head back. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sincerity she couldn’t bear to see in his expression. His nose grazed her cheek, and he brushed a gentle kiss against her lips.

“Alice.” His voice was rough with tenderness and pain. Another aching kiss pressed against her lips. “There’s no one but you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She drew a hitching breath, fisting her hands against his chest. “You say that now, but—”

“But nothing.” He sounded so sure, but he didn’t understand. He couldn’t know how quickly everything you cared about could slip away.

Alice shook her head, trying to explain, but her chest felt like it was bursting and she didn’t know how to put what she was feeling into words. “People get tired of each other, or they meet new people, or—”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“—things change, and you can’t predict it or stop it from happening. I’m scared this is all too much, too fast, because the way I feel about you isn’t casual or temporary, and when you’re done with me I don’t know how I’m going to recover from that.”

“When I’m done with you?” Griffin stared at her, incredulous. “Alice, you dummy, I’m in love with you.”

She stopped breathing.

Love?

Had he really just said—

She blinked at him. “Say it again without the dummy part.”

Smiling, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m in love with you.”

Her heart stumbled in her chest. She tugged him closer and rested her forehead against his. “I’m in love with you too.”

Griffin’s arms banded around her and he sealed his lips over hers, crushing her with his urgency. Heat seared through her as she clawed at his clothes. She needed him—that connection, that closeness—so much it felt like her skin was sizzling and he was the only thing that could put out the fire.

Rough hands pulled her shirt over her head and pushed her yoga pants down to pool around her ankles. Alice pushed his T-shirt off and ripped his jeans open as he dug in the junk drawer for a condom. When he’d rolled it on, Griffin lifted her up onto the counter.

Their eyes locked as he slid into her, and she saw her own raw vulnerability reflected in his expression. She wasn’t alone. She had him, and he had her.