Chapter Twenty-One
There was no way around it. She missed him.
Hated him, but she missed him all the same.
What did she do about that?
“Get on with life.” She hitched her satchel up on her shoulder. “Set goals, work towards them.”
First goal on her list was get over Thomas St. freaking Clair.
Turning toward the door of her classroom, she let out a shaky laugh. “Easier said than done.”
“That was you in the magazine, Miss Elderkin.” Graeme Abernathy strode into her room, pointing a finger at her.
Oh crap.
He stopped directly in front of her, shaking his finger side to side. “I knew it. You were dating Thomas St. Clair and you never told anyone. Your sister isn’t the only actor in the family, it seems.”
“I wasn’t dating him.” No point in denying it now. “I was…” What? “Helping him out.”
“Helping him out?” Graeme laughed. “Is that what you young kids are calling it these days?”
“You’re being a moron, Graeme.”
“Ha.” He packed his finger away and frowned at her. “Not a moron. I uncovered your secret relationship first.”
“Not a relationship.” A squirming knot filled her stomach. “It was a work thing. I told you, I was helping him out with something. Nothing more.”
He snorted. “I’m not buying it. Especially seeing as it wasn’t just that one magazine I showed you that you were in. Jessica brought in a different one last week with a photo of him and a woman in it, and we were all convinced it was you.”
“You all need to find something better to do than discuss my life outside of school.”
He laughed, shaking his finger at her again. Would it be rude of her to break it?
“Ah, but you see, my wife bought one at the supermarket two days ago, and there in the back celebrity gossip pages was another photo of Thomas St. Clair and his ‘mysterious muse.’”
Damn, she should have broken his finger. Impossible to make air quotes with a broken finger.
“So it was you. Different magazines, different photos, wearing sunglasses in most of them, but you and him. Holding hands. Kissing. Although the magazine my wife brought home says he dumped you for another ‘muse.’”
More of those damn air quotes.
The frown vanished from his face, replaced with, God help her, concern. “Did he dump you? Are you okay? You’ve been pricklier than normal of late, I must say.”
The knot in her stomach twisted tighter. Her throat turned to hot sandpaper. If only Graeme had continued his smug gloating, she would have been able to handle this. But worry? Pity?
“I’m fine. If you must know, St. Clair and I had a business relationship many years ago before I became a teacher. We didn’t date then or now.” Why did that hurt so much to say and feel like a goddamn lie? “I was helping him with his current book.” She arched an eyebrow. “And, yes, it is a horror book, so feel free to make whatever joke you want at my expense about that. Once he didn’t need my assistance, I brought our business relationship to an end.”
Seriously, could her stomach clench any tighter? Her chest hurt more?
Graeme’s frown returned. “You know, Mila—”
Mila? God, he’d never called her Mila once in the three years they’d been teaching together.
“It’s okay to admit to your friends you’re feeling crappy.” He cupped his hand over her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “And as socially awkward as you are, most of us like you. If you’d let people know you broke up with a celebrity, one of us would have done your playground duty.”
She closed her eyes for a second, letting out a sigh. “Thank you, Graeme. Next time I date a celebrity, I’ll make sure I tell you all after the first date.”
He beamed. “So you were dating? Bam, Mike owes me twenty bucks.”
“Time for you to leave, Graeme.”
He laughed. Surprisingly, Mila found her own lips twitching with a smile. What was the point of being angry? Feeling bad wouldn’t help her get over Thomas, that was for certain.
“Take care, Elderkin.” Graeme squeezed her shoulder again with a kind smile. “And if you start dating G.R.R. Martin, tell me. I really want to know what happens next to Jon—”
“Out, out, out.” She bustled him toward the door and froze when a tall, familiar man walked into her classroom.
“Sebastian?”
“G’day, muse.” He directed a lopsided grin her way. “I was in town and thought I’d look you up.”
Graeme gaped at him. “You’re Sebastian Hart? The director?”
“No. I’m Sebastian Hart, the sales rep.”
Graeme frowned. “Really?”
Sebastian laughed. “No.” He clapped Graeme on the shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse us, mate? Mila and I have some catching up to do.”
“Sure, sure.” Graeme nodded. Or was it a bow? “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hart.”
He scurried from the classroom, glancing back so often he collided with a chair and student desk on the way out.
Sebastian watched him go. “He’s a teacher here?”
“He is. One of the best. The students love him. So stop sounding so incredulous.”
He held up a hand. “No need to get defensive. I’m not here to pick a fight.”
Crossing her arms, she lifted an eyebrow at him. “What are you here for, then?”
He studied her for a moment, eyes narrowed.
“Are you trying to decide how best to answer that question?” She peered at him over the frames of her glasses. “Or are you plotting some kind of epic narrative to beguile me into believing whatever you say?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “I get what Thomas likes so much about you. You definitely don’t kowtow, do you?”
She couldn’t help but smile a little. “No. I don’t kowtow.”
“I understand you and him are having issues.”
“Issues. Hmmm, let’s go with that. Yes. We are.”
“He’s a great bloke. A dickhead, sure. Sometimes a bit of a wanker, but a great bloke all the same. I know he stuffed up—I heard about the whole a-muse-is-a-muse comment—but I also know he’s more real when he’s with you.”
“Is that what you know?” Adjusting her glasses on her face, she looked away. When had the room lost all its heat?
“Yeah. That and everything else. Like how he behaved like a dickhead years ago when you were meant to be writing an article about him, like how you didn’t tell him who you were, and he behaved like a dickhead again recently.” He paused. “Like how you haven’t responded to any of his texts since.”
“Do you think it’s because he’s being a dickhead? Or a wanker?”
He laughed. “If you weren’t already his, Mila Elderkin, I’d seduce you into my bed. It would be a feisty, frenzied affair, and you’d probably destroy my ego, but, damn, it would be worth it.”
“I’m not his, Mr. Hart. Whatever we had is over.” She swallowed. The thought of being Thomas’s anything made her…angry.
Liar.
“It shouldn’t be.” Sebastian raked a hand through his hair. “Look, creative types…we’re not easy to deal with. We tend to be flighty and loopy and not really in the real world most of the time, especially when it’s how we make a living. But Thomas…he’s never really let himself be real until you came along. I know he messed up, twice. But…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you could give him another go? ’Cause he’s a nice bloke?”
“A nice dickhead wanker?”
He let out a weak chuckle. “Y’know, I flew all the way from Sydney to give you this speech.”
Her lips twitched. “You didn’t think to practice it on the flight coming over?”
He laughed. “No. I’m used to just getting what I want when I say I want it. You’re bucking the system somewhat.”
“I’m glad.”
“So you’ll call him? Talk to him?”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“Hell no. He’d kill me if he knew I was talking him up. This is just me being worried for my mate. And trying to fix it.”
Mila sighed. “Thank you for the wonderful speech, Sebastian. But—”
“But you won’t give him a second chance? I mean, third chance? Three times a charm, and all.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Hart.” She smiled a warm but a dismissive smile. “Thank you for coming to see me. I hope your next movie is a—”
“Sis? You here?”
Sebastian jumped. Mila did the same.
“Sis?” Josie ran into the room and skidded to a halt, stare locked on Sebastian. “Holy crap, you’re Sebastian Hart.”
He dipped a little at the waist. “And you’re Josie Elderkin.”
Josie’s mouth dropped. “You know who I am?”
“Thomas told me to check you out. I watched you perform last night. You and I need to have a little chat.”
Josie flicked a glance at Mila. “Errr…”
Sebastian laughed. “After you talk to your sister. I’m staying at the Park Hyatt in Manhattan under the name Michael Dundee. I’m flying back to Sydney tomorrow night.”
Josie blinked.
Sebastian turned to Mila. “Thomas has dedicated Blood Angel to you. Not in an attempt to make you change your mind about him, but because you saved him from the person he’s been pretending to be ever since he was first published. What you two had—have—it’s real. Think about that.”
He left. Before she could tell him he was wasting his time.
“Mila.”
She turned to Josie at the whisper.
“That was Sebastian Hart. Sebastian Hart wants to talk to me.”
“He does.” She smiled. “And so he should, because you are amazing. But watch him. He’s used to getting his own way. He just admitted as much.”
Josie stared at her, eyes glazed.
“Are you here for a reason, sis?”
“Yes. Yes.” Josie shook her head. “I wanted to show you something.” Without another word, she plonked into the nearest seat and waved at Mila to do the same.
“I should have told you before now,” she said, digging around in her tote. “I had a phone conversation with Thomas last week.”
Mila’s lips began to tingle. “You what?”
Josie withdrew her phone from her bag. “He called me.”
“He what?” Oh God, was she hearing this correctly?
“He called me because you wouldn’t call him back when he finished writing his book, and he was worried. So I gave him a piece of my mind and hit him with some home truths.”
Mila groaned and pressed her face into her hands. “Oh, Josie. Why?”
“Because he’s been a jerk. Twice. And I needed him to understand why you weren’t going to be so forgiving the second time.”
“You told him…”
“About you losing your position at the Times? Yes.”
She let out another groan into her hands. Could this get any more embarrassing?
“And then I told him to stay away from you.”
Yes. Yes, it could.
She shook her head. “Josie, I don’t need you to—”
Josie held up her hand. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did. Until Thomas sent me a text an hour ago.”
“He what?” How many more times was she going to ask that very question today?
“You need to read this.” Tapping her thumb on her phone’s screen, Josie leaned forward. “He sent me a link. A link to this.”
Mila took Josie’s phone.
On its screen was Thomas’s blog—a blog she knew was visited by thousands of people a day. There was a new post.
Her breath caught in her throat as she read the post’s title.
How To Be a Jerk Dickwad (And Other Horror Stories)
She swallowed. “Do I really want to read this?”
“Yeah.” Josie touched her shoulder. “You do.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Mila returned her attention to Josie’s phone. To the words written by Thomas on its screen.
I make a living from bullshit. I make stuff up daily. Fiction, as the serious crowd call it. But until recently, I didn’t appreciate how much I live the bullshit.
Fame and money and success have an insidious way of permeating your very being. If you’re not careful, the person you really are gets lost.
When that happens, when the facade you’ve constructed takes over, you can be in danger of losing the real you forever.
The real me has been AWOL for eight years now. For a very long time, I placed the blame for this on a journalist I’d never met.
The real me, however, finally accepted that for what it is—bullshit. The only person I have to blame for the way I was living is myself.
For too long, I’ve refused to allow anyone close to me. I’ve hidden my true emotions behind a wall of glib, immature behavior. I’ve been a jerk, and when I’ve been hurt, I’ve been a bigger jerk.
For too long, I’ve held my readers, friends, and colleagues at arm’s length. It’s prevented me from being true to myself, but thanks to one incredible woman, I’ve realized I’m losing out being detached from the real world.
It is easy to live in the worlds I create, but when you live in bullshit, that’s all you get.
It takes courage and strength to be true to yourself.
From now on, that’s what I’m going to try to be. Real.
Thank you, Mila Elderkin, for saving me from the bullshit.
A muse isn’t just a muse. Not when that muse turns out to be your life.
Your real life.
So this is me, Thomas St. Clair, former jerk dickwad, saying don’t hide in bullshit. All it will do is leave a bad taste in your mouth.
TSC.
“Oh.” The single word left her on a soft breath.
“The post has already been picked up by the Times and USA Today,” Josie said. “Plus, it’s all over Twitter. The hashtag nobullshit is trending. People are going crazy, coming clean about stuff.”
Mila looked up at her.
Josie frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. “I told him he didn’t deserve you, to stay away from you. But maybe…maybe I was wrong. Maybe you should go talk to him.”
Mila swallowed, handing Josie her phone back.
Josie gave her an expectant look. “Don’t you think?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I think I have to get ready for class tomorrow.”
Josie’s eyebrows dipped and she let out a sigh. “Mila—”
Mila held up her hand. “Please don’t. Thomas and I are from two different worlds.”
Josie snorted. “You’ve been living in his world for a few weeks now. It seemed you fit quite well, so don’t give me that excuse. If you’re scared, admit it, but don’t lie to me or yourself about Thomas St. Clair.”
Stomach clenching, Mila shook her head. “What if I get there and he’s changed his mind? I deceived him. What if he can’t get past that?”
Josie leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “He’s already gotten past that, sis. You have to get past it now. You’re a high achiever. You can’t get any higher an achievement than being with the person you love.” Josie squeezed her hand again with a smile. “Right?”
She blinked. What was she doing? How could she be so stubborn? “Oh God, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to see—”
She jolted to her feet, snatched up her satchel, and ran for the door, where she slammed into her boss, knocking the slight, balding, perpetually scowling man backward.
“In a rush, Miss Elderkin?”
“I’m sorry, Duncan.” She steadied him with a firm hand. “I’m just on my way out.”
“Out?” His scowl deepened. “Not before you explain the truck full of Apple laptops that have just been delivered to the school.”
“Truck full…” A prickling heat crept up her throat. “How big a truck? How many laptops? Enough for a class?”
Duncan shook his head. “Enough for every student in the school.”
“Every student?”
“Every student. And if my math is correct, one for every teacher as well. All addressed to you from someone called TSC.”
Josie burst out laughing. “Oh my God, sis. Go to him now.”
“Sorry, Duncan.” Mila hitched up her satchel, grin wide. “I’ve got to go.”
She ran from her room.
Getting to the Upper West Side in a hurry wasn’t going to be easy. Not in a car, at least.
She ran to the subway.
Way too many minutes later, heart thumping and throat tight, she knocked on Thomas’s door.
Inside, Reaper started barking. And barking.
And barking.
The door didn’t open.
She knocked again.
There was more barking from Reaper, but the door stayed closed.
“Damn it.” She pressed her forehead to the door, eyes closed.
“He’s not home,” a deep male voice said behind her.
Oh God…
Thomas stood on the bottom step, looking up at her. His hair stood on end, like he’d worried it over and over. Stubble darkened his jaw and chin. His eyes were haunted. And yet in their blue depths…was that hope?
“You look like crap, St. Clair.”
He chuckled, the sound dry. “There’s my goddess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Gorgeous?”
She shook her head, her pulse wild.
He began to climb the steps. “Babe?”
Her stomach clenched. “Not that, either. Not at this moment, at least.”
Stopping at the step below the landing, he gazed into her eyes. “Muse?”
“No. Not that.”
“What can I call you, Mila?”
“Yours?”
He closed his eyes, a ragged breath bursting from him. “Oh, Mila. You have no idea how much I—”
She kissed him silent.
He grabbed her hips and hauled her to his body.
Inside the house, Reaper barked and scratched at the door.
Pulling away, she cupped his face in her hands. “I didn’t come back because of the laptops. I need you to know that.”
“I don’t care. You’re here. Kissing me. That’s all that matters.”
“No, St. Clair, this is serious.”
His lips twitched and he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “How unlike you to be serious.”
“Shush.”
He smiled. “Why did you come back, Mila Elderkin?”
“Because…because it’s time for me to get real. And I am really, really in love with you. The real you.”
He drew in a deep, slow breath. “If I say and they all lived happy every after now, will you hit me?”
She chuckled. “Probably.”
He grinned and nudged her forehead with his. “And they all lived happy every after.”
She gave his shoulder a slight slap and smiled up at him. “The end,” she whispered.
He shook his head and drew her closer to him. “No. Not the end. Not even close, babe. Our story is just the beginning.”
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