Lovestruck Forever (19 page)

Nate
sighed in a way that told me he adored being teased like this. “Uh
huh. That’s me, all right. An autograph-hungry celeb
worshipper.”

“Anyhow,”
Annie went on, ignoring him. “Brooklyn Parsons is this
up-and-coming actress who wants everyone to forget that she got her
start on some crappy reality show and take her seriously as an
artist.” She followed this description up with a heavy roll of
her eyes. “So if she’s all bitchy to you—and she
will be, she always is—you can at least remember that she
became famous by participating in a competition to become the next
wife of a minor British lord.”

I
laughed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

Annie
popped another fry in her mouth. “People who refer to this
stuff as ‘their art’ are best to be avoided at all costs,
by the way.”

Thomas
laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You have a point there. I
call it the pretension test.”

She
nodded at him, grinning. “I mean, I take my work seriously, and
everything. But the louder you shout about your ‘art,’
the less likelihood there is that it’s actually art, you know
what I’m saying?”

Conversation
soon turned to talk of our wedding and the goings on in Michigan.
Annie and Nate were eager to hear about news from home. They had been
back briefly after shooting
Earth’s
End
, but Annie was
already involved in another project that required them to be on the
coast. “It sucks,” she told me bluntly when I asked how
she was coping. “Being away so much. I won’t even try to
sugarcoat it.” She winked at Thomas. “Sorry, not trying
to put her off or anything. But it’s the kind of thing someone
needs to know before signing up for this life.”

He
nodded, looking sad. “I don’t disagree.”

“I’ve
had a taste,” I assured her. “I’ve already been
living away from home for a good chunk of the past two years, and
it’s hard sometimes.” I smiled over at Thomas. “But
worth it. And I think it will be easier once we’re married.”

“Why?”
Annie asked bluntly.

I
shrugged a little. “Well, I think it will feel more natural for
me to follow him around, you know? Less like a hanger-on once it’s
official.”

I
could feel Thomas tense behind me, knowing he hated that line of
thought. “There will always be people that judge you for it,
Lizzie,” Nate said, meeting my eyes. I realized it was probably
even harder for him. Traditional gender expectations usually didn’t
include the husband giving up work to follow his wife’s career
and raise the kid, which I knew Nate had done after their son Finn
was born. “You just have to get over it. You know what makes
your family work. For us, it made sense for Finn and me to travel
with Annie. That’s enough for me.” He winked. “Though
I can’t say it wouldn’t be nice if some of the tabloid
assholes got punched in the mouth for their insinuation spreading.”

I
grinned in return. “I’m working on the getting over it
part. I can write from anywhere, so why not travel with my husband?”
I couldn’t help the little thrill that ran through me at the
word. It seemed like no matter how long we were engaged, I still
hadn’t learned to be blasé about the situation.

“That’s
right,” Annie cried, reaching for my hand. “Thomas told
me that you have meetings with publishers in New York later this
month. God, I’m an asshole. I forgot to say congratulations,
Lizzie!”

I
blushed, struck momentarily by how surreal it felt to have a movie
star congratulating me on something. Funny how I never felt that way
about my interactions with Thomas. “Thank you.”

We
talked about my book and the meetings in New York for a while longer,
about the process of fine-tuning the manuscript and how embarrassing
it had been to get back my first edits. “I have never felt like
a more incompetent writer. The amount of red written on those pages
made it look like the book had starred in a slasher flick.”

Eventually,
we circled back around to the party that night. Annie had devoured
half of Nate’s dessert after not ordering her own in
anticipation of fitting into her dress. “See,” she told
us around a mouthful of brownie sundae. “This is why I make a
crappy Los Angelino. I just can’t diet.” I looked at her
tall, willowy frame and struggled not to raise my eyebrows in
disbelief. Annie sighed. “But my dress is pretty unforgiving.”

“She
always does this,” Nate told us. “Complains about fitting
into her dress, or about how horridly uncomfortable her shoes are,
yet she continues to pick the tightest dresses and highest shoes she
can find.”

“I
love clothes,” she said simply. “I can’t help it.”
She turned to me. “What’s your dress like? I loved what
you wore when I met you at the
Darkness
premiere last year.”

“I
used the same designer,” I told her. “Mainly because, you
know, he’s the only designer I know.”

She
laughed. “For the premiere next winter, I’ll send you a
list of people who aren’t too insane to work with. Or insane
price-wise, for that matter.”

We
left the restaurant around one thirty so we could get back to the
hotel to get ready for the event. Heidi’s people had booked a
hairdresser and makeup artist to come right to the room to help me
get ready. I thought it was a little bit of overkill just for a
party, but Imogen assured me through text message that all the famous
types would be doing the same thing.
There’s
going to be a ton of actresses there tonight
,
she wrote.
You don’t
want to stand out
.

Of
course that set off my nerves all over again. I wondered if I would
ever really get used to hanging out with the celeb crowd. Somehow, I
doubted it.

It
was an hour before the party, and Thomas was going to head out early,
both to give us more room to work and to meet his director for drinks
downstairs. “You’d be amazed at how many movie deals are
struck at the bar,” he told me, leaning in for a kiss. The
makeup guy, Teagan, gasped in horror as my fiancé’s lips
touched my recently made-up face. I rolled my eyes at Thomas, and he
winked at me before stepping away.

“Go
put your tux jacket on,” I urged him. “I’ll meet
you downstairs in an hour.”

Teagan
and Marisa, the hairstylist, descended upon me after he was gone,
fixing the invisible blemish Thomas had left in my foundation and
doing their best to tame and curl my hair. In the end, they decided
it was too warm to leave down, because San Diego was apparently in
the middle of an infrequent humid spell. As someone used to the
summer humidity of the Midwest, it felt perfectly fine to me, but
they insisted. Instead, they piled the hair up on top of my head in a
soft, almost messy style before helping me into my slinky black
dress. It wasn’t like anything I had ever worn before. The top
was designed to look like a bustier with delicate spaghetti straps.
The bustier cut off at my natural waist and flared out into a little
flippy skirt. It felt sexy without showing off a ton of skin, which I
liked. When the team was finally satisfied with me, I grabbed my
purse, thanked them, and left them to pack up their supplies while I
went down to meet Thomas.

It
was a little intimidating, entering the lobby on my own. Most of the
hotel’s inhabitants were industry people there for the
convention. The crowd in the lounge spilled out into the lobby, and
dozens of gorgeous, elegant people milled around the space. I took a
deep breath as I stepped into the milieu, keeping my eyes peeled for
Thomas.

Instead,
I found myself face to face with Lola Fischer. I could barely contain
my desire to groan. I had imagined she was in San Diego somewhere—if
there was a camera in the vicinity, Lola Fischer was sure to be
there. Besides, the
Darkness
cast and director had a panel at the convention the following day.
But I had managed not to see her up until that point, and hadn’t
heard she was staying in this hotel.

“Lola,”
I said, doing my best to keep my voice friendly. “I didn’t
know you were at this hotel.”

“Lizzie,
darling.” She took both my shoulders in her hands and made a
big show of kissing my cheeks. “You look so lovely, dear.”

I
numbly allowed myself to go through the motions of air-kissing her
back. I had long ago learned to never trust Lola Fischer,
particularly when she was pretending to be nice. “So do you,”
I said, to be polite, though lovely wasn’t exactly the word I
would use to describe her. She was done up to the nines in a
tight-fitting, short red dress. The fabric was cut so low in the
back, I was surprised it could possibly manage to cover her butt. Her
hair was sleek as ever, pulled back into a chignon so tight it must
have hurt her face.

“It’s
so nice to see you here,” she went on, her voice positively
gushing.

“Yes,
well, Thomas and I are staying in this hotel for the convention,”
I said pointedly, hoping my intention was clear.
I
have every reason to be here—what’s your excuse?

“I
was so glad when Mickey asked me to be his date—you do know
Mickey, don’t you? Well, he was positively desperate for me to
join him, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to rub elbows with the
Hollywood crowd before the actual party. I’ve been in London
for far too long.” She held out a perfectly toned honey-kissed
arm. “I mean, look at how pasty I’m getting.”

“Mmmhmm,”
I murmured, looking around for Thomas almost desperately. This was
the woman who put me down every chance she got—who had once
made a disparaging remark about my skin color, for God’s sake.
There was only so much of her I could take and still be polite.

“Anyhow,
dear. I heard about the wedding and I’m so pleased for you.”

“You
did?” I asked, feeling the stirring of interest. Much as I had
predicted, after I left London the rumors about our engagement died
right down. I hadn’t heard from Thomas or Imogen that there was
any renewing of interest in the subject.

“Oh,
yes, Lizzie. Everyone here is talking about it.” When I
continued to look blank, she smirked a little and pointed down at my
ring. “If you didn’t want people to know you should
probably have taken it off.”

Damn
it. Heidi had suggested to me that I leave the ring at home for the
entirety of our trip to San Diego. But I had refused to be away from
it for so long, instead promising I would remove it before any public
events, as I had been doing since the day Thomas popped the question.
And here I was, minutes before the most public event I’d be
attending, still wearing it. I was so used to it by now that it had
entirely slipped my mind to worry about it.

“It’s
certainly not a secret,” I said, struggling to avoid that
familiar look in her eyes—the one that said I was a clueless
country bumpkin, completely out of my league in her world. “We
just haven’t gone out of our way to announce it, either.”

“Why
ever not?” She seemed genuinely confused. “A wedding is
fantastic for publicity. Thomas’s press—and your press,
too—will go up exponentially once it gets out.”

“Thomas’s
press is fine,” I said, squeezing my hands behind my back so
she couldn’t see how much she was bugging me.

“And
yours is, too,” she murmured, smiling slyly. “I heard
about your new agent. Well done, Lizzie.” She opened her eyes
innocently before continuing. “But you know, dearest, the media
bump of being his girlfriend will only last so long. If you really
want to capitalize on the situation, you need to get the engagement
news out there as soon as you possibly can.”

“I
don’t want to capitalize on the situation,” I began
hotly.

“Oh,
I’m so sorry to offend, Lizzie. I just assumed, from all the
news reports, that you were using the existence of your relationship
to your advantage. The agent shopping your book, and all…”

Before
I had managed to stop sputtering in rage, she wiped the smile off her
face and leaned in close, a look of intense concern on her face.

“But
that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. There’s
something you need to know, about Thomas.”

I
had long since reached the point of having enough of her. “What
about Thomas?” I asked, my voice flat and filled with
impatience.

“There
are…rumors.”

I
wished with all my heart that it would be socially acceptable to push
her down on her ass and walk away. Instead I blew out a long,
exasperated breath. “What rumors?”

She
looked at me for a long moment, her worried expression doing little
to hide her absolute delight at the situation. “Well, there’s
no easy way to say this, dear, so I’ll just be out with it.
He’s been seen around town with another woman.”

I
laughed out loud, unable to help it. This was absurd, even from her.

But
Lola went on. “I know you think you trust him, Lizzie. Believe
me, I’ve been there myself. Idle gossip is nothing to lose your
head over. But you see…well, the thing is, Lizzie, this isn’t
some random stranger.”

I
will not take the bait. I will not take the bait.
I crossed my arms, eyebrows raised at her. If she wanted to tell me
what the hell she was on about, she could, but I’d damned if I
justified her accusations by asking who it was.

“Have
you ever heard him talk about an old girlfriend? A Franny,
something?”

In
spite of myself, I felt a sliver of cold creep down my back. Franny
was Thomas’s only other serious relationship. A relationship
that, according to his friends, had broken his heart.

“You
didn’t know,” Lola cooed. “I’m sorry to be
the bearer of bad news.”

“Why
is it bad news?” I asked hotly. “I’m not so
insecure to think he’s cheating on me with an ex-girlfriend who
took the first chance she could get to throw herself at Jackson.”

“Good
for you,” Lola said, patting my arm condescendingly. It
couldn’t have been more clear that she didn’t buy my
rebuttal for a moment. “You be strong, Lizzie.”