Lucky Star: A Hollywood Love Story (12 page)

I stripped down to my underwear and climbed under the blankets but Cameron hadn’t joined me. In fact, he stood staring down at the bed as nervous energy poured off him in waves.

Resting back on my elbows, I asked what the problem was.

“I know I’ve been sleeping on the other side of the bed but …” His eyes flicked to mine and immediately I understood.

“You want this side?”

“I don’t want to put you out,” he responded sheepishly, running his hand through tousled locks. His hand was starting to look much better – the swelling had gone down significantly and only one area around his knuckle remained green and purple – and he no longer winced when he used it.

“It’s a big bed Cameron. You’re not putting me out. Besides,” I said, scooching over, “I don’t actually have a side. I’ve always slept in middle.”

I fluffed the covers and settled into the other side of the bed, expecting Cameron to climb in next to me. When he didn’t move to join me I looked over my shoulder to catch him getting completely, gorgeously naked. When he dropped his boxers around his ankles and stepped out of them, he glanced up to find me gaping at him.

“What?” An impish smile slashed across his face. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

I swallowed. “I guess I didn’t realize you sleep naked all the time.”

“It’s not a problem, is it?”

How cute was he, worrying whether or not his fucking fantastic naked body laying next to me was going to be a problem?

“Of course not,” I responded, my color reddening as I imagined being able to do wonderful, wicked things to him any time I wanted. “I’m warning you though; I probably won’t be able to keep my hands off you. If I roll over to find your body all warm and naked next to me I’m not liable for my actions.” I waggled my brows. “Are you willing to take the risk?”

He chortled. “However will I manage?” He climbed under the covers and as he settled into the space I’d vacated, said, “Oh shit, I forgot my phone.”

His words reminded me I’d left my phone in the other room too. Also, I’d forgotten to lock the door. This being L.A., anytime I went to sleep, regardless if it was 7 a.m. or 11 p.m., I locked my damn doors. I lived in a generally safe neighborhood, but I’d lived on my own as a single woman far too long not to worry about things like rapists and serial killers. With Cameron here the past few nights, I’d forgotten some of my regular rituals, but no way was I forgetting about safety. Ours or my dog’s. I also needed to make sure Duke’s doggy door was locked so he couldn’t get out unsupervised. During the day the precaution was more about keeping him from digging up my plants or chasing squirrels, but at night I worried about him tangling with coyotes, foxes, or mountain lions. At this early hour, any of those scenarios were plausible.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it. I forgot to do a couple of things as well.” I blew him a kiss as I wandered out of the room. He’d tossed his hands behind his head which gave me a perfectly framed picture of his body in repose. My fingers itched for a canvas and my paints so I could capture his magnificence. I smiled greedily, knowing I’d convince him to let me paint him someday soon. What we used for paint and whether or not it actually made it onto a surface other than his big, gorgeous body was debatable. 

Locks thrown and the doggy door secured, I called for Duke to follow me into the bedroom and stopped to grab our phones. I don’t know whether it was reflex or curiosity, but when I saw his phone hadn’t locked and the screen was open to a text messages, I read it. I really wish I hadn’t

Jake:
You’re a fucking fool. You’re about to be able to get any pussy you want. What a wast
e
.

I recognized the name, Jake Donovan. I liked Jake well enough and had always thought the feeling mutual. Apparently, however, that was the case only in so far as I wasn’t tied to Cameron romantically. Anger, a cold fury, coursed through me and I felt tears sting the back of my eyes as the screen blurred in front of me. Who the fuck did Jake think he was to cast judgment like that? He was nothing. A no one, I told myself. He wouldn’t know a good, solid relationship if it walked up and punched him in the face. Since I’d known him, Jake had run through a string of women, one empty-headed, plastic blonde after the next, all interchangeable copies. At first our group had tried to make each of them feel welcome, but it became apparent after the third or fourth one he introduced us to that they wouldn’t be around for more than a month at most. He actually didn’t care if we welcomed them into the group or not. So yeah, Jake was an asshole who didn’t deserve my tears. So what if his words echoed the exact sentiment I’d been worried about ever since Cameron admitted his feelings for me. Shit, even before then.

Jake was inconsequential, but the question that burned in my brain was whether or not he was alone in his wretched opinion or if others shared it. Mike, Carly, Jennifer, and Justin had all sent their congratulations and support for our wild, madcap romance. Surely others did as well?

I read through a chain of messages on his phone, justifying the action since I reasoned they’d be on my phone as well. The first several set my mind at ease.

James:
Congratulations you crazy kids!

Charlie:
I knew it! Congrats!

Sinclair:
About time …

Dad:
It took you two long enough.

Jennifer:
I’m so happy for you. You can tell how much you love each other.

Additional messages followed in a similar vein. The people I felt closest to, those we spent the most time with, remained overwhelmingly supportive of us. It also looked like Cameron and I were the only ones who
hadn’t
known how we felt about one another. I shook my head wonderingly and asked myself again, how had we let so much time pass without figuring it out?

Knowing I shouldn’t continue reading his messages but not able to stop myself, I flicked over to the main text folder and saw a number of messages that hadn’t been part of the group thread. Since Cameron used a pretty lengthy preview for incoming emails and texts I was able to see the tone of these messages were much different than the others. I felt my stomach drop to somewhere around my knees. Hands shaking, I opened them one after another, and my eyes widened as each became progressively worse. Nausea rising in my throat, I read them all.

James:
I like Sarah and all but really? I wouldn’t think she’s your type. She’s not bad, but you’ve had better.

Adam
: It’s not April 1 so why the joke?

Noah:
Is she knocked up? You fucked her and she’s pregnant, right?

Mason:
Even if she’s pregnant you don’t have to marry her.

Josh
: Didn’t see that coming. You sure she’s the one? You know I love Sarah but I never thought she’d be who you ended up with.

Ben:
Are you sure you want to be tied down, especially now?

Lucas:
You’re throwing your life away.

Ethan:
Are you out of your mind? Tell me you’re kidding, man.

Charles
: No fucking way!

Steve
: How convenient for her.

Carl
: You held out for Sarah? Do you need your head examined?

There was one final text from Cameron’s younger brother Daniel that might have hurt worse than them all.

Daniel
: You’re a star now, man. You can get any piece of ass. No way that’s who you want to fuck for the rest of your life!

I abandoned the phone and staggered onto a stool before my legs gave out. Placing my head in my hands and closing my eyes, the ugly messages burned vividly behind my lashes. I’d worried about the public’s reaction, but never in a million years had I thought our friends and family would react this way. Surprise, ridicule, disgust, and even anger. Could they really be that upset? Why did they care so much who Cameron loved? How did it impact them? And then I knew. Some of these guys were hangers-on. Now that Cameron was a bonafide celebrity they expected to be able to bask in the aura of fame. If he wasn’t out trolling for pussy, they couldn’t tag along to soak up his sloppy seconds. That they expected that’s how Cameron would react to his newfound celebrity told me how little these guys really knew him. If I hadn’t been so damn hurt by their messages, I might have had to laugh at their ridiculousness.

Aside from those who were obviously upset not to be able to take advantage of Cameron’s celebrity themselves, I could almost understand the comments about whether or not I was pregnant. Jumping into an engagement at warp speed would naturally appear suspicious to anyone who wasn’t privy to the details of our story. While less common in our generation, it wasn’t entirely unheard of for a man to propose when the woman he was screwing got knocked up. While getting pregnant no longer necessitated a marriage proposal, guys like Cameron would still be honor bound to at least offer. So yeah, that was an understandable conclusion for them to draw. Perhaps they imagined while we’d been telling everyone, “Oh goodness no, we’re just really good friends,” we’d been secretly getting it on and the result of those sexy times was a pregnancy. Since it happened all the time I was almost willing to forgive those questions.

What hurt most though was the messages from guys who I’d considered my friends too. Fuck, one of them was even going to be my brother-in-law! How could they have hidden their distaste all this time? Oh, right. Because they hadn’t conceived of a situation where Cameron could desire – scratch that,
love
– a woman like me. In their narrow world view because of the way I looked, I was a romantic non-entity. I didn’t need to have it spelled out in black and white. To guys like them a woman wasn’t worth a damn if she didn’t look like a Playmate of the Month.

I tried to tell myself they were fools, their comments meant nothing. That their words would mean nothing to Cameron as well, but the more I protested, the more I feared he
wouldn’t
ignore them. That he might internalize those comments and decide he’d been too hasty in asking me to marry him. With everything that was going on in his life right now, I began to wonder if down the road he might regret my presence in his life. Think that I’d held him back. I feared that as awesome as I was, I wouldn’t be able to hold his interest while millions of women threw themselves at him. I questioned if our love was strong enough to endure that level of attention. Wondered if we’d been doomed from the outset.

And that made me angry more than his friends’ comments about me because I could deal with people discounting me. I’d been doing it my whole life. But those slivers of unease made me doubt Cameron – question his love and his commitment – while he’d done absolutely nothing to deserve that doubt. That I questioned his resolve in the face of their words meant I questioned his integrity and that pissed me off beyond reason.

“Fuck!” I slammed my palms down, furious that I finally had the one thing I wanted most in life and already I could feel it slipping through my fingers. I breathed deeply and tried to steady my heart rate, tried to prevent myself from overreacting. And then before I knew it, Cameron was standing there begging me to tell him what was wrong.

I tried to explain what I’d seen and how it made me feel but I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words. In my head I heard their voices, their snide, malicious intent, their utter disbelief, and it made me Hulk Smash livid. Despite the haze of red that clouded my vision, soon Cameron’s concern broke through my rage and I managed to come back to myself. By then, he’d quit asking what was wrong and had started guessing, each speculative scenario going wide of the mark.

“No one died,” I croaked out, my voice thick with ire.

“Tell me what’s wrong then. Whatever it is, we can fix it.” His voice had turned panic and that made me feel guilty. Knowing the quicker I handed him his phone, the sooner he would be clued in to what had tipped me over the edge.

“I shouldn’t have … I know … but …” I took two big gulps of breath and readied myself to admit to invading his privacy. “Here, check your phone.” I held it between us.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your text messages. Responses to your announcement.”

Cameron scratched the whiskey colored stubble on his chin. “Text messages have you this upset?”

Great, now he thinks I’m a lunatic.

“Your friends think I’m a joke,” I whispered, my eyes dropping to my feet, and then back up.

Confusion marred his perfect features but he finally took the device from my outstretched hand. Scrolling through the messages of congratulations only confused him more since there was no reason I’d be angry about that. 

“Not the congratulations. Those are wonderful,” I smiled sadly. “The other ones.”

He looked at me as if I wasn’t making any sense and then with a couple more taps of his fingers, had opened the main menu where those
other
messages were located. As he scrolled through them, I watched his reaction to words I knew by heart. A furrow of his brow, his jaw clenching, a scowl, and then a furious intake of breath before he slammed the phone down on the counter, shattering the screen.

His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. His eyes slid to mine. “You read that shit?”