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Not without a circus.
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t come here.”
Kam was silent as the opening strains of a new melody struck up in the background. An Ed Sheeran song, Dillon recognized the track—and then realized it was actually a live performance.
The perks of a life with the rich and famous.
“I’m sorry, Kam.” She sunk lower in the uncomfortable chair. “It’s just…”
“No.” Kam was deflated. “I know. You’re right.”
“We’re okay. I promise.” Dillon tipped her head back to stare at the flickering recessed lighting. “We’ll be out of here in a few hours. I’m going to take Sam back to my flat to watch her until morning.”
There was another long beat of silence.
This was not the night they’d planned.
Kam sighed. “Will you call me when you get home safely?”
“Of course. Hey,” Dillon said, worried she was going to hang up. “You were superb tonight. I mean, just—extraordinary. The whole thing.”
“Thanks. It meant a lot to have you there. I know movies aren’t your thing.”
“If you’re in them, they’re my thing.”
“Oh, please. You just liked my nude scenes.”
“Hands down my favorite of your costumes,” Dillon teased. “Might have enjoyed it even more outside a group setting.”
Kam finally laughed. “Perhaps I’ll consider giving you an in-person private screening.”
“First thing tomorrow?”
“Oh, you’re going to have to work harder for it than that. You owe me, after tonight.”
“Good thing I’m not afraid of hard work, then.”
“Sinclair!” A nurse stood in the doorway with a clipboard. “Dillon Sinclair?”
Exhaling, Dillon pushed off the sticky arms of the chair to stand. “Is it still best for you to come to me, or should I pick you up?”
“I’ll have my driver drop me first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll be waiting,” said Dillon. “Unless, of course,” she added, “I run into Kate Winslet in the meantime.”
“Unlikely, since I’m currently watching her tip back martinis with Elton John.”
Dillon laughed. “All the greater possibility she’ll twist an ankle and turn up at the emergency department.”
“Sinclair?” The nurse hollered louder.
Forced to rush through a goodbye, Dillon approached the door.
“Dillon Sinclair?” the woman checked her chart. “Miss Huntley’s asking for you. She’s looking a bit better. I imagine she’ll have a raging headache for a while.”
Deservedly so, was all Dillon could think.
A few minutes later, she dropped onto the foot of Sam’s hospital bed, sending an aide scattering off after getting Sam’s autograph.
