Part 10 (1/2)

”I did.”

”Why did you take the engagement as far as you did? It doesn't really seem very fair to Jenna.”

He practically snorted. ”Oh, please. Jenna didn't care about anything but looking pretty in her wedding gown. She couldn't even see I was a mess. She just kept making plans, and I just kept avoiding setting a date. Two years she turned a blind eye. Two years of bloodshot eyes and slurred speech and whiskey d.i.c.k. It's like she didn't want to see. I finally hit rock bottom and she was forced to face the truth. She couldn't really ignore the fact that I'd moved into the treatment center, for G.o.dsakes. I did that on my own, by the way.”

I'd read about a few of Trip's drunken shenanigans in the tabloids. They were mostly treated as entertaining little stories about America's new favorite bad boy, relaying the tales of the amusing stunts he had pulled at some prominent club or Hollywood party. But then... rehab.

”We were engaged for two years and she was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around the whole time, I think. Not like I can blame her. I couldn't really see it through the bottom of a bottle, or maybe I just didn't care. Even still, I used rehab as the excuse to make the break. She didn't fight me on it.”

”What made you finally go?”

”What was my rock bottom, you mean?”

”Yeah, I guess.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief. ”I just... Oh Jesus. What wasn't my rock bottom? I was out at the bars almost every night, and managed to pick a fight almost every time. A few times, I'd show up to the set of Red Nevada with bruises so dark, the makeup girl was paid overtime. Once, my face was so puffed out that shooting had to be put on hold until the swelling could go down. Biker guy. Real big b.a.s.t.a.r.d.” He chuckled dejectedly at the memory. ”We got that movie finished by the skin of our teeth, and G.o.d. It really sucked when we did. I can't normally watch any of my movies, but that one? Holy s.h.i.+t. I can barely even say the t.i.tle. It really f.u.c.ked with my career. Miramax heard all about my bulls.h.i.+t on-and off-the set, and that, combined with it bombing was enough for them to cancel my contract for Sanction. Instead of waking me up, it just allowed more time for drinking.”

I stayed quiet through his rambling. Not only was his monologue enlightening, but it was just too d.a.m.ned shocking for words. I couldn't believe he was ever that broken person. It sounded nothing like the Trip I thought I knew; the sweet boy he was as a teenager, the confident man he was now. I smoothed a palm over the hair above his ear and just let him talk.

”I gotta say, though, the thing that really clinched it for me, the thing that truly woke me up... It wasn't the fighting or the bruises or the threat to my career. It was Claudia.”

”Your sister was your rock bottom?”

He gave a chuckle and explained. ”No. It was something she said. She'd stopped by unexpectedly one day-she does that a lot by the way, be prepared-and I was floating in the pool on a raft, pa.s.sed out, fully clothed, just a complete disaster as usual. She thought she was being cute when she tossed a snorkel at me to wake me up. I did, for about a second, long enough to roll face first into the water. I didn't come back up.”

My fingers had been twirling his hair, but at that, my hand stilled.

”She told me afterward that she had to jump in and drag me over to the stairs. All I know is that one minute, I thought going for a swim seemed like a great idea, and the next, I'm waking up to my sister shaking me, just screaming in my face. I'd pretty much tuned her out the whole time. But then... then she said, 'You look like s.h.i.+t, Terrence! You look just like Dad!' And if you don't think that f.u.c.king got to me, you'd be wrong. And I knew it. I knew I was turning into the old man. The one a.s.shole in the world I never wanted to turn into. I checked into rehab the following day. Second best move I ever made.”

”What was the first?” I asked, smiling, knowing full-well what he was going to say.

”Taking your virginity in that tent.”

I smacked him for that. ”a.s.shole.”

He laughed, then sat up to face me. ”Okay, fine. The best move was from Indiana to New Jersey. Because that's when I met you. Happy?” He ran a palm across my jaw and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, my skin s.h.i.+vering from the sweet words and gentle touch. There I was, with Trip Effing Wilmington by my side once again.

”But that virginity thing is a pretty close third.”

”Shut up, you creep!” I snickered as I gave him a shove.

He smiled and grabbed my hand, looking down at our twined fingers as he said, ”I got that letter you sent after I got out. It meant a lot. Thank you.”

When I'd heard Trip was in rehab, I kind of lost it a little bit. I was happy that he'd decided to get help, but I was stunned that his drinking problem had gotten so bad. That one letter was the only time I'd ever reached out to him over our four-and-a-half year separation. I wrote about ten different drafts before finally putting the tamest one in an envelope and shooting it off to his agent's office. I was relieved to find out it actually found its way into his hands. ”I wished I'd explained things to you then, but... as far as I knew, you were still engaged, and I didn't even know how to tell you what I was feeling without...”

”No. The words of encouragement were enough. I wasn't in the right place back then to hear anything more than that. I didn't read it right away-I should confess that to you right now. It took me a few weeks to even open the envelope. Then a few more to actually read the letter. I was glad once I finally did. I was proud that I was able to resist getting drunk in order to do it. It was the first real test after I got out. So... thanks.”

It seemed like a strange thing to be thanked for, but I knew what he meant. ”You're welcome.”

He swiped his free hand through his hair and said, ”I channeled all of my focus into getting back into shape after that. I figured if I was going to come back, I was going to come back stronger than ever. Any time I had the urge for a drink, I worked out instead.”

I slid a hand up his arm and gave a squeeze against his rock-hard bicep. ”You must have wanted to drink all the time.”

That made him snicker, but I was feeling a bit swoony from the bulging muscle under my palm. Jesus. I wouldn't have ever thought it was possible for Trip to get any more gorgeous. Goes to show you never know. I hoped he'd maxed out on his hotness level. I didn't think I could take it if he kicked it up another notch.

I was knocked out of my wandering thoughts when he said, ”I had to audition for Unleaded, you know.”

The way he said it made me think that he was embarra.s.sed. I'd heard Unleaded was an incredible film, and of course I knew that Trip was a member of the cast. But I guessed it was hard for him not only to take on a mere supporting role, but to have to audition just to get the part. He'd already long surpa.s.sed that point in his career. It probably sucked to have to take such a huge step backwards. ”Well, whatever you had to do to get the part, it was worth it. You were nominated for that one.”

He let out a heavy breath. ”Yeah, I know. And thank G.o.d for that. I mean, I put it all out there. If it bombed, I don't know where I'd be right now.”

I suddenly felt really awful that I hadn't seen it. It was his comeback film, and from all reports, he was amazing in it. I realized I suddenly had a lot of movies to watch in the following days. Time to catch up.

”Well,” I started in, leaning against his side, ”I'd like to think you'd be sitting on a wall with the love of your life.”

That made his face split into a wide grin, the dimple in his left cheek more prominent than ever. He kissed me then, those sweet lips brus.h.i.+ng softly against mine, his hand under the hair at my nape. My stomach actually flipped at the contact. G.o.d. Would I ever get used to kissing this man? Would there ever be a day when I wouldn't fall apart from his touch?

He pulled his lips back, but pressed his forehead against mine. ”Hey Lay? I hate to cut our evening short, but I've got a meeting tomorrow with the pre-prod for a new movie.”

I'd hardly call midnight ”cutting the evening short,” but maybe that's just because I wasn't in my twenties anymore. I reluctantly pulled out of his grasp and let him help me down from the wall.

Trip pulled the Porsche into the lot at the TRU and cut the engine. I was pretty impatient during the ride down from the observatory. It wasn't an incredibly long trek, but if I didn't get that man in bed soon, I thought I'd pa.s.s out from wanting.

Trip must have been feeling it, too. He turned to me and said, ”This is ridiculous, Lay. I'm checking you out of here. I know you said a few days, but I want you with me now. You're staying with me.” He put a hand at my neck and pulled my lips to his. In between kisses, he said, ”I want to keep my eye on you. And my hands. I want to keep my hands on you, too. And my mouth. Yeah, that too.”

Who was I to argue?

I packed up all my stuff from the suite as Trip stayed downstairs to check me out of the hotel. I was only slightly saddened at having to leave such a beautiful room, but I was more curious and excited to see the home of my beautiful man. I was confident that it-that he-was ready for me.

We hopped back into the Porsche and drove through Benedict Canyon, then wound our way up Mulholland Drive. I could only catch the tiniest glimpses of the houses from the road. Most were completely hidden by large gates or trees. The few homes I could see were pretty freaking impressive, let me tell you.

We finally pulled in front of a large, black, iron gate, and Trip hit a b.u.t.ton on the sun visor to open it. He cruised the car up a narrow, winding driveway and suddenly, his house came into view. It was a sprawling stucco ranch with those curved clay tiles on the roof-a California version of an ”authentic” Spanish villa-painted tiles around the archways, forged iron fixtures on the heavy wooden doors.

He pulled the Porsche into the huge garage, where I could see a black Jeep, a black pickup truck, and a black... something that I didn't recognize. ”What is that?” I asked. ”It's pretty.”

He got out of the car and came around to my side. ”Layla. You don't call a Maserati 'pretty.' It's a beautiful piece of machinery.”

I was well aware of another beautiful piece of machinery in the garage at that moment. But I put that out of my mind long enough to respond, ”It looks like the Batmobile.”

He snickered at that as he closed the garage door and led me into the house. ”Wow,” I said. ”If your house is as nice as the garage, I think I'm officially astounded.”

He backed me against the closed door and pressed his body full-length against mine. ”Oh yeah? Well, wait until I get you to my bedroom, sweetheart. That'll astound the h.e.l.l out of you.”

Chapter 15.

GIRL PLAY.