When we got back to Kaiti’s place, I could tell there was something weighing on her. She was avoiding my eyes and much quieter than usual. On any other day, we would talk all the way there, joking and laughing about things we’d seen on set or lines that we couldn’t seem to say without messing them up. It was usually a fun, animated ride home.

Usually.

After the events of the day, neither of us was feeling particularly talkative. I knew why I was morose, but that took a back seat to finding out what had my Kaiti-girl off balance.

“So, today was…long,” I commented, rubbing one hand over my stubble-covered jawline.

“Yes, it was,” she muttered, kicking off her shoes and heading directly for the couch.

I turned in the direction of the kitchen. “Wine? Beer? That mint crap you like so much?”

“Bourbon.”

I stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and looked back at her. “Bourbon? Since when?”

“Since I had to listen to Skylar go on about how you loved showing her off when you were together and how great you were in bed.”

Her back was to me but I didn’t need to see her face to know she was hurting. Big time. As much as I would be if I’d had to listen to some other guy talk about…

Jesus, I couldn’t even think about it without getting pissed off.

“I’ll bring the bottle,” I ground out and stepped into the kitchen.

From the direction of the living room, I heard Kaiti mutter, “Good idea.”

Fuck. Me.

* * *

I gathered two glasses and the new bottle of bourbon—leaving the open one in the cabinet for a day when it might be enough. Today was a full bottle kind of day, more so than I had realized.

When I had what I needed, I went back to the living room and sat on the couch near Kaiti’s folded knees. She was propped against the corner with her legs under her and the crocheted throw blanket pulled into her lap. She didn’t move away when I rested my leg against her knee, which was a good sign.

I waited until the seal was cracked and the drinks were poured to look at her face. I was surprised to find her smiling, not in an ‘all is right with the world’ kind of way but at least it was a smile. When our gazes locked, her chin trembled a little but immediately stopped. “I’m okay now, I think, but I have to say that was not my favorite conversation to have. Not even close.”

“I can’t even imagine,” I told her, setting my glass on the coffee table and turning my body toward hers. “And I’m sorry she told you that.”

“But it happened, right? I mean, you two were together? And feel free to be as vague as possible for the sake of my sanity.” She tried to chuckle behind that statement but it sounded more like a dry heave.

“We were kids. Barely sixteen. And it was all so exciting back then, being seen and followed, being stalked by fans and paparazzi. We worked together on a TV pilot—one that never saw the light of day—and the media thought seeing us together around the lot meant we were an item. So, we were. But it was mostly us being immature and thinking the attention we drew as a couple was fun.” I shook my head as I remembered how adamant she’d been that we always leave a crack in the curtains while we made out on her couch. “She was in it for the attention, not for any real attraction to me. And I wasn’t really into her, either.”

“Except when you were sleeping with her, you mean.” Not a question, more of a statement. She didn’t even sound particularly judgy about it.

“No, I wasn’t into her then either. It was just something to do, something that was expected. Another role to play, for both of us.”

“And with me?” She glanced away, taking a sip of her bourbon and wincing at the sting.

“With you what?”

She turned her eyes to mine and looked incredibly vulnerable for the first time since I’d known her. “Are you playing a part with me?”

I reached for her hand and leaned forward, praying that what she saw on my face would convince her. “My whole life was one big role, one act after another, one big lie after another. Nothing ever seemed real or honest, no one ever spoke without an agenda.”

She nodded along as if she understood. After being on set this last few weeks, I was pretty sure she did. She was a quick study, my Kaiti-girl.

I offered her a smile and continued. “I was supposed to get you to change your mind about the show, but from the first time I laid eyes on you, I was the one who changed, who became someone else, someone I almost didn’t recognize—myself. I remembered who Gavin-fucking-Lane really was. Because of you. So no, Kaiti, I’m not playing a part with you. I was playing a part with them. All of them. Every time I touched another woman it was because I felt like I had to, for the camera, for the press, for the headlines. But I get to touch you. I get to hold your hand and kiss your lips and skim my fingers across your smooth, soft skin. Not because it’s in some script or because it will draw attention. It’s because I can’t help myself, because I crave the feel of you; the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo and the way you melt into me when I kiss you. Because this is real, the most real thing I’ve ever known, and I want it—want you—more than anything. You’re the only one who’s ever known the real me; the only one who’s ever mattered. Other women may have touched my body, but you’re the only one who’s ever had my heart.”

I pulled her into my lap, and she came willingly, straddling my hips as she looked down at me with watery eyes.

“I’m so in love with you, Kaiti-fucking-Oliver. I never thought it would happen for me, much less hit me this fast, but it did and it’s real, and I need more than anything for you to believe me when I say you’re the one. There won’t ever be anyone else for me.” And it was true. As soon as I got a second, I planned to text Bryce, my agent, and my publicist and let them know I would not be appearing at any future events with anyone but Kaiti on my arm.

I was going off script from now on.

No more set-ups.

No more staged photos or fake relationships.

Game over.

Done.

She cupped my face with both hands, one fat tear falling onto my shirt as she leaned down. “I believe you, Gavin.” She brushed her lips lightly across mine and drew back, another tear falling as she said, “I love you too.”

I couldn’t have hidden my smile if I tried. “Kaiti—”

She put a finger to my lips. “But I need you to understand that I hate—freaking hate—crying and you just made me boo-hoo for the second time today, which means that even though I love you, I’m also kind of mad at you.”

Leave it to my Kaiti-girl to put her own sassy spin on a tender moment.

Taking her lead, I reached up and palmed her ass with both hands, jerking her body closer to mine as my hips surged upward and I pressed my erection into her. “Then, by all means, allow me to make it up to you.”

She bit my lip and ground into me with a soft moan. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

* * *

“So, when do the scenes I watched the other day actually make it onto my TV screen?” Evie sounded excited and impatient.

Kaiti was fluttering around the kitchen, whipping up homemade waffles and whisking eggs in a bowl. We’d finished up shooting the last few scenes at the office location around two that afternoon and would be moving to the beach set on Monday, so we’d gotten a rare evening off—an early Friday being almost unheard of.

For some reason, we’d ended up deciding on breakfast for dinner and a quiet night in, which was fine with me. She wanted to check in with Evie before we settled in for the night, so she was working on the food while talking to Evie on speaker. “In a few weeks. Four or five, I think?” She shot me a look as I sat at the table, scrolling the headlines on MSN on my tablet. I nodded. “Yeah, Gavin says that’s right.”

“Oh, hi Gavin!” Evie called.

“Hey, Evie,” I replied, raising my voice to be sure I was heard.

She went right back to their conversation. “So, I have to wait a damn month to be able to shout from my balcony that my bestie is a star? Really? That seems like a long time.”

Kaiti laughed, peeking into the waffle maker before closing it back up. “No, my first episode airs in a week.”

I gave her another nod. She was figuring it all out much faster than most people did.

“Post-production dictates how far behind the episodes air. Since I joined mid-season, everything is moving really fast. Only a couple of months of shooting left before the break and then it’s on to next season.” She gave me a wink as she spoke. “Assuming they don’t kill me off, which they probably intend to do.”

“They’ll never want to let you go, babe. You’re gonna be a fan fave from your first episode, wait and see,” Evie argued.

She chuckled and flipped the waffle iron, the metal making a ringing sound and echoing through the apartment. “If you say so, chicky.”

“I do. And I know everything,” Evie retorted. “Well, time to go open the store. Us little people still have crappy retail jobs to get to.”

“Get off your ass and go sell people crap they don’t really need, peasant,” Kaiti teased.

“Go put on ten pounds of makeup and tell lies in front of a camera, superstar,” Evie shot back, laughing. “And tell that hot-ass boy toy of yours to keep the vipers away or face my wrath.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I yelled, laughing along with them.

I’d never admit to them that I was envious of their friendship. I’d never had anything close to the bond they shared and that was just fucking sad. But the reality was friends weren’t actually friends in my world. You could hang with them, sure, but confiding in them or sharing anything deeper than shop talk and pithy jokes was unheard of. It wasn’t done. You couldn’t let people in or they’d use what they knew against you later—whether out of pure spite or competitiveness—your friends always managed to turn on you in the end.

Even Bryce, as it had turned out. I was still pissed about that one but had let it go for the time being. I hadn’t forgotten and I damn sure wasn’t forgiving anything.

And if it came down to it, I’d give Bryce the choice to either bury Kaiti’s past or find someone else to play Tyler Savage. I’d wait till Monday, when the file was in his hands and then it was time for a showdown.

I’d avoided being alone with him all week while we worked and had only spoken to him when absolutely necessary. Same with Skylar, though she’d tried to play innocent about her comments to Kaiti, approaching her and giving an impassioned apology—claiming she hadn’t known about Kaiti and me when she said it.

I didn’t believe that for a second. Sky thrived on drama and wasn’t above creating it purely for her own entertainment. It was one of the reasons our little affiliation was so short-lived, no matter how epic and lasting she’d portrayed it to be. A few misspent weeks was all it would ever be as far as I was concerned.

Most everyone on set seemed unaware of the tension between Bryce and me, which sounded about right. The majority of them couldn’t be bothered to notice anything that didn’t directly affect them—Joey being the exception.

He saw all, heard all, and said nothing. He was great like that. You could tell he knew what was going on, but aside from the occasional, “You good?” he kept his nose out of it.

He was the smartest of us all, if you asked me.

Keeping Kaiti from noticing the tension had been much harder, but I’d somehow managed to pull it off. I was somewhat ashamed of how relieved that made me, but I was doing it all for her—to protect her.

“Bacon or sausage in your omelet?” she asked, startling me out of my musings.

“Both?” I asked sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for not helping, even though she had practically banned me from the kitchen when I’d offered.

She nodded. “Okay. Cheddar or American?”

I gave her the sheepish look again.

“Both it is.” She winked and returned her attention to the stove. She had one of my favorite hats on, her hair in a knot that stuck out the opening in the back. I loved how she looked in it, how right it felt for her to wear it—or one of my T-shirts—around the apartment.

I’d barely been back to my place in the last two weeks, and Kaiti was so content to have me with her that she’d cleared out a couple of drawers and a spot in the closet for my clothes without saying a word. She knew I hated my place, the cold, sterile, empty feel of it, and she’d kind of moved me in a little at a time. I hadn’t had much aside from clothes and a few personal effects at my apartment, so over the course of the week, we would stop off there after work and grab a little at a time until there was basically nothing left for me to go back to. Not that there ever really had been in the first place.

Everything I wanted or needed was here, with Kaiti.

While we ate breakfast/dinner—and I raved because it was the best damn omelet I’d ever had—Kaiti looked out the window with a forlorn expression. “It’s raining. Supposed to last the next two days.” She gave me a weak smile. “I was hoping to get to the park and feed the birds. I used to do it every Friday afternoon when it wasn’t raining.” She looked out the window with squinty eyes, like she was shooting Mother Nature a dirty look for ruining her plans.

I was struck with an idea and picked up my tablet, suddenly excited.

She picked at the remnants of her waffles. “I guess we can kick back and watch movies. That could be fun too, if a little repetitive.”

“Ever been to LA?” I asked, still scrolling and jumping from one tab to the other, checking weather forecasts and flight times.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes when I looked up at her. “Oh yeah, all the time. I was just there last month in my private beach-front villa having a cabana boy feed me peeled grapes.”

“I’m serious. It’s too late to get you a passport.” I quirked a brow. “Unless you already have one, then we have a lot more options.”

She shook her head, looking at me like I was insane.

“We’ll get you one when we get back, so we can try somewhere further out next time. For now, I have a house in Santa Monica with its own strip of private beach and it’s the perfect place to escape this dreary weather.” I nodded, returning my attention to my task. “Can you be packed in an hour? There’s a flight leaving at seven. We’ll have a thirty-minute layover in Atlanta and get there around eleven.”

“You’re crazy. We have to work Monday morning.” She was shaking her head at my impulsiveness.

“We can sleep on the plane on our way back and get in late Sunday night or extremely early on Monday. Plenty of time for us to make it to the set.” I reached for her hand, deploying my most winning smile. “Come on, Kaiti-girl. It’s less than two days but I can make them feel like a week. I want to walk on the beach with you and make love to you under the stars.”

“And get sand in unfortunate places.” She rolled her eyes but she was smiling.

“I’ll bring a blanket.” I kissed the back of her hand and nipped her knuckle with my teeth. “Or I could suffer through the sand invasion by letting you be on top. See the sacrifices I’m willing to make?”

We were both laughing when she finally agreed and hurried off to the bedroom to pack. I booked our flight and made arrangements to get the house prepped and stocked before joining Kaiti in the bedroom. Packing and laughing turned into her excitedly modeling various swimsuits, looking for my opinion. Big mistake on her part. We made love—twice—showered, finished packing, and hauled ass to the airport, barely making our flight.

Best start to the weekend ever.

* * *

By the time we made it to my place in the Palisades, we were practically bouncing on our heels, filled with anticipation and energy. The flight had been long but interesting, with us talking about anything and everything under the sun while we sipped champagne and nibbled crust-less sandwiches—more to balance out the alcohol than out of actual hunger.

Not that we weren’t hungry—we were—but not for food or drink.

Arriving so late, we missed a lot of the view as we drove along the coastline toward my beach house. I vowed to take her for a drive up the coast before we left because it was an experience everyone should have, and I didn’t want her missing out.

Once we’d reached my place, I took our bags from the driver and tipped him, then waited for the automatic gate to close as he left. I had my own cars in the garage to use over the weekend, so I wouldn’t need him again until it was time to head to the airport Sunday night. Just thinking about going back was enough to nearly ruin my excited buzz.

Until I heard Kaiti clearing her throat behind me.

“So, Hollywood, you gonna give me a tour of this dump or are we camping in the driveway all weekend?”

I turned and tossed the bags over my shoulder. “This dump is about to become one of your favorite places on Earth, Kaiti-girl. Because we’re not leaving here until we christen every corner of every room—along with that huge strip of private beach.” I nodded toward the sound of crashing waves.

She turned to peer at the gate beside the house, eyes full of mischief. “Then let’s get started…” She pulled her shirt over her head and stood in a thin, lace bra. Next, she shimmied out of her shorts and left them both in the middle of my driveway. Just like that, she was off, racing through the gate and giggling like crazy as she made a beeline for the water. I threw the bags on the back deck as I passed by, tossing my shirt and shorts near a stack of beach chairs and chased after her.

She squealed when she hit the water but didn’t stop until she was chest deep, the waves rolling in lazily around her. She leaned into them, keeping her spot until I reached her. She leaped up in the water, wrapped her limbs around me, and kissed me as deeply as she could while smiling her head off.

The more she laughed and played and splashed in the moonlit water, the lighter I felt.

I’d never expected this, any of it. I’d been unhappy with the way things were going for a while, with work and the entire trajectory of my life, but I never thought one person could swoop in and put it all into perspective. The crazy thing was, she had no clue.

In my career, I’d done my own stunts and fight scenes, led armies and been the hero who’d won out over all kinds of bad guys, but when the cameras stopped and there was no one there but me, I couldn’t for the life of me remember who the hell I was before all this started.

With Kaiti, though, it was like she was a mirror, and she was showing me who I wanted to be—who I could have been if I hadn’t spent my life pretending to be other people for a damn payday.

And I liked that guy so much more.