Part 1 (1/2)

Eversea.

Forever, Jack.

Natasha Boyd.

To my husband for asking me to marry him on our first date.

And to Al Chaput and Dave McDonald.

I may never have taken writing seriously without you. I am forever grateful for your time, patience, encouragement and expertise.

Thank you.

The sound of the front door slamming after Andy seems to jar everyone into action. Not me. My heart is pounding, my hand is throbbing, and my stomach is roiling, but I don't move.

”Jesus,” says Devon. He strides to stand beside me, the only friend I seem to have right now. ”We need to get Sheila on the phone, like, yesterday. We need damage control. I've never trusted that little f.u.c.ker.” He jerks his head after the agent I just fired.

I replay the scene in my head. Andy's smug face as he congratulated himself on keeping me in line by faking my girlfriend's pregnancy. Girlfriend? Audrey may be my contractual girlfriend, but our relations.h.i.+p just had its final death throe.

The mention of Sheila, my publicist, causes me to look up and stare Audrey straight in the eyes. She is standing there unmoving, I guess unsure of what to do since I snapped. Her brown eyes are large and watery. A look I've fallen for before. ”Or does Sheila already know, Audrey? Was she in on this pregnancy hoax? Was this part of your team 'management' of poor f.u.c.king clueless Jack Eversea?” My voice is harsh, like I just screamed it hoa.r.s.e. Something I wish I could do.

She shakes her head vehemently, a tear streaking down her cheek.

I grit my teeth against the instinctual urge to comfort and protect her like I always have. Ever since our contrived romance began years ago, brokered out of a movie franchise to keep the fans engaged in the love story. She was a friend, and at times something more. A partner. Or so I thought.

Devon taps out something on his phone.

After everything, I'm still finding it hard to believe Audrey's lied to me like this. About something like this.

”No, Jack. It wasn't me, it was all Andy,” she tries.

”Oh please, Audrey, show me the f.u.c.king courtesy of honesty at this point.”

”I swear-”

I snort dismissively.

”Wait, Jack,” she pleads. ”I went along with it, I admit, but it was his idea. I confided in him after I was ... late.”

I swallow hard. Oh my G.o.d. She was late. Of course she was. I'm guilty as charged. It's why I believed her so readily. It's why I left Butler Cove. The knowledge of my part in this cools my anger, leaving cras.h.i.+ng guilt in its wake. Followed by equal parts panic. ”So ...” I start, keeping my voice as steady as possible. ”So, are you still ... late?” I can't say pregnant anymore. I just a.s.sumed after what Andy said that she wasn't, but ...

Audrey hiccups out a sob, and I take an instinctual step toward her, catching myself just in time. I take a moment to really look at her then and see true grief. Though her face is flushed and swollen from tears, she is still beautiful standing there in her white dress and her long dark, chestnut hair coming in gentle waves over her shoulder. She's banking on this, I know. Banking on the fact that she is beautiful and we have ... history. But I also see her sadness.

It occurs to me then, that Audrey, far from filling contractual obligations in our friends-with-benefits pairing, might have truly been in love with me.

Snippets of her words come back to me now with new meaning. About how suited we are, how it would be the last laugh if we eventually got married and had a family one day, how we'd be a team of respect and friends.h.i.+p.

The idea that she might actually still be pregnant despite the fact that Andy used the news to their advantage makes my throat seize. No, she's not. It wouldn't have gone down like it did if she was. I feel like I'm drowning in some bizarre dream where the life raft is right there, but just out of reach.

Blowing out a deep breath, I fist my good hand at my side and wince in pain as my injured hand tries to follow suit.

Audrey hangs her head. ”I lost it. I lost the baby,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

My insides lurch violently. Nausea caused by the sickeningly sweet rush of relief, sandwiched between the hard press of guilt, leaves me swallowing back bile. I suck my lips between my teeth and bite down hard, trying to get my s.h.i.+t together. ”When? Are you ... are you ok?” I get out, finally. I'm vaguely aware that we are the only ones left in the room, the others having thankfully filed out.

Her eyes flick down and she hesitates. ”When we were in London.”

For a moment, I don't believe her, but I do remember her crying in the bathroom at the Lanesborough Hotel. I was being a complete d.i.c.k to her and everyone around me that day. I was beating myself up about not calling my mother, even though she lived less than two hours away and knew I was there. It was a media circus outside, and I was a caged tiger. Luckily, we only had to be there for two nights before heading to Paris.

”I'm sorry. I should've realized.” I run my good hand through my hair, and dropping my chin to my chest for a moment, see I have a few drops of blood on my white b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt.

Audrey hiccups again and takes two tentative steps toward me.

I don't stop her or move away, and she continues until I open my arms and fold them around her tall, slender body. And even still, after months, and in the midst of all this s.h.i.+t, I am wis.h.i.+ng I had my arms wrapped around a smaller girl, a girl who flipped my insides over just looking at her, and who I may never get to hold like this again. I squeeze my eyes closed.

Audrey's shoulders shake from her crying, and she sniffs. ”I love you, Jack.”

Tensing, I ease away her head from my shoulder to look at her face. I am instantly on alert. She may be hurting right now, but Audrey should always be handled carefully. I've seen how she's dealt with perceived threats to her career before. And I am in the starring role of this perceived threat. I need to be able to do this on friendly terms, but the way she's looking up at me, has me thinking she's not on my page.

”Just give it time, Jack. We'll get back to where we were, where you were in love with me, before I hurt you.”

My heart hammers. My G.o.d, she doesn't know me at all. ”Audrey,” I say as gently as possible, knowing there is no good way to say this. ”I cared for you, do care for you, and I loved you, true. But I was never in love with you.”

Her eyes widen.

I know I'm botching this but I can't seem to stop. It's like an exit sprint. ”My ego was hurt more than anything.”

Her slap to my left cheek is fast and painful.

I seem to excel in pulling this reaction from women. I don't move, but she's not done. Her face transforms into a scowl, and before I know it I have seized her flying fist in midair, gripping it inside my good hand, squeezing hard.

”b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” she snarls and tries with the other.

I sway back. ”Calm the f.u.c.k down, Audrey.”

”No, I won't f.u.c.king calm down,” she screeches. Her eyes have transformed from her soft doe-eyed expression, designed to elicit sympathy, into hard slits of anger, and she wrenches from my grip. ”You are not doing this to me!”

”Doing what, Audrey? Taking my life back? Ignoring some stupid contract? The movies are over now.” I grit my teeth and finish this. ”We are over. We have been for ages. I'm not sure what qualifies for a functional relations.h.i.+p, but I can promise you, we are not it.”

”No. You are not doing this to me! Not with her.”

”Don't you f.u.c.king dare bring her into this,” my voice booms out like thunder, causing her to jump.

Her cheeks are red and splotchy, but crossing her arms over her chest, she recovers quickly. ”I can do what the h.e.l.l I like. But you can't. Do you think Andy will take you firing him lying down? Or think I'll let you walk away from me? We are a team, Jack. We are much more powerful together than we are apart. You need me. You may not think so, but you do. And do you know why? Because I'll make sure you don't even have a career if you walk away. Have you thought about what it'll do to your poor, sweet country girl to have paparazzi hounding her every move. I didn't want to draw attention to her before by tipping them off, but maybe if it's spun the right way ...” Her voice trails off, as she taps a fingernail thoughtfully on her chin.

I'm listening, speechless, and watching her face morph into ugliness with each word she utters. My jaw clenches tightly to keep myself from exploding back at her. I shake my head.

She turns to an imaginary person next to her. ”I was driven to another man's arms because Jack Eversea is so cold and heartless.” She affects a whiny, hurt voice. ”I felt emotionally bullied, all the time.” She sniffs for effect and looks away for a moment. When she looks back, her eyes are watery again, and a single tear tips onto her cheek. ”And the most horrible thing of all was he got me pregnant, and then, when I lost his baby he was so mean, and so relieved. He laughed and told me he had never been in love with me. Laughed!”