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I gasp and snatch my hand back, watching as a huge smile spreads across his lips. When he laughs, I can't help but join, which only encourages him more, until our laughter bellows through the studio, echoing to the farthest reaches of the penthouse. Gradually, our hysterics soften, leaving only lingering chuckles that slowly fade into silence—a comfortable silence.
Until my reality trickles back in.
I look at my feet. "Your father acted alone, didn't he...? Tricked you into slipping me that flash drive..."
"Yes."
Fuck. I clench my fists.
"Then there really is no hope. My game's lost."
He lifts my chin, anguish swarming his features. "Don't say that."
"Why?" I cringe at how broken I sound. "It's the truth. What hope is there for me, against someone like him? With his type of power and connections? Not to mention, I can't contend with whatever team of lawyers work for your family's company."
When doubt flickers in his otherwise strong gaze, I know team wasn't the right choice of word. Army is more fitting.
Tugging me closer than ever, he sighs softly, bringing his warm lips to my temple. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make this right."
FORTY-TWO
JULIANA
"Slow down, Jeremy. Your father won't be happy if he comes home and discovers there's no casserole left."
His spoon clatters against his plate. "Sorry, Mom."
I snicker. Leave it up to Jeremy to eat three portions on his own—his appetite's even worse than during high school. Although, some things have stayed the same since those years, most notably our childhood apartment.
As notorious penny pinchers, nothing goes to waste and nothing gets replaced, unless absolutely necessary. Take the oriental rug beneath our feet, for example. I don't remember a time when it wasn't in our cozy apartment. Or this dining table the three of us sit at. There's no doubt in my mind Mom and Dad will pass it down as inheritance. To their credit, it still looks brand new, as with most of the other furniture and decor.
Obviously, going from Hayden's penthouse to my childhood apartment is quite the shell shock, but there's no mistaking the homey solace I feel here, especially when digging into my favorite comfort dish, chicken and zucchini casserole. Strictly cooked by my mom, who always claims it's the simplest recipe in her repertoire.
What can I say? I'm a simple girl.
I take another bite, savoring the mozzarella's tangy richness, while simultaneously witnessing Jeremy's appetite roar back to life. Hunched over, he shovels spoonfuls past his lips like he's plowing snow. Honestly, the sight is a bit jarring for my eyes, which strangely makes me smirk, because that means it has to be downright agonizing for Mom—
My smile falters.
At the head of the table, Mom gazes off into space, her expression laden with worry.
"Mom?"
"Huh?" She snaps out of it, and the look disappears. "Oh, sorry, sweetie. I'm just tired, is all." Picking up her spoon, she smiles at me—and it couldn't seem more forced.
Guess I'm not the only one having trouble ignoring the enormous elephant in the room.
DreamScape.
Since the horrible event, it's been a week. Five days of wallowing in self-pity and ignoring Hayden, followed by two days of making love with him. And I do mean love. The word keeps slipping off my tongue, maybe more than his—before, during, after, at random times of the day, as if we're trying to see who's gonna get spooked and run first. Or... maybe it's the other reason.
Forgetting what happened.
Sure, we should devise a plan of action, but I told him I needed a breather. Call it unproductive coping but... obsessively worrying over the same problem day after day after day, it gets exhausting. I was exhausted—still am, apparently, seeing how the first words from my mouth when I strutted through my parents' door were "I don't want to talk about it."
So, the elephant remains...
I did, however, blab to my mom about Hayden. I mean, she's not dumb. She could easily put two-and-two together, once we finally do talk about what happened and I inform her Kingston Entertainment was meant to—just—sponsor my game. So, even with Jeremy here with a sore wound over the truth of me and his best friend, I came clean to her the instant we sat down at the table, prepared to weather her onslaught of questions.
