Chapter Seventeen

Celia slid into the back of the limo next to Aubrey. The sparkly gold dress she was wearing was like a lie. She felt neither sparkly nor gold. She felt exhausted and dull and worn out.

But for all she’d revealed to the world in her interview, there was still a lot of pretending in her world. She had to go to parties, smile, schmooze, deflect, and make sure everyone knew she was still Celia Grant, the kind of woman who could play a romantic lead like nobody’s business.

Different, darker roles had already been offered, but as long as the romantic comedies and fun capers were still coming in, too, she’d deal.

It was a few days after the Dia Walker show and the fallout was…bearable. Her mother had done some interviews that tried to paint Celia as the bad guy. A couple of the tabloids were still running sensational stories about murder, but her lawyers were putting out those fires without too much trouble.

The hardest part, though, wasn’t her mother. It wasn’t the press or the lies or the truths. It was what she’d always feared. Abuse organizations were reaching out to her asking for help, money, a spokeswoman.

Celia’s gut cramped at that and she pressed her head to the window, the only sound in the car Aubrey’s fingers tapping against her phone.

A better person might be happy at the chance to use her celebrity, her past to do some good, but all Celia could think was that she wasn’t up to the task. There were so many organizations, way more than the few she’d secretly donated to over the years. And they wanted so much more than money now. Here she was ten years removed from her abuse, just coming to terms with it, and they wanted her help? Her face? Her words and memories and healing?

That hurt exactly as she’d known it would. There wasn’t enough of her to fix parents’ thinking they had the right to hurt their child. She couldn’t save anyone, and since she couldn’t help every single organization that needed it, she’d feel forever…less.

Celia took a deep breath. If she wallowed in that feeling, she’d drown. So she just had to accept she couldn’t save the world, even with her secret known. She could help some with more than just money. She could offer her story and herself and hope it made some little spark of difference for someone. It would never be an easy thing, a comfortable thing, but it couldn’t break her as she’d once thought telling the truth would.

Giving a few organizations her voice along with her money was something. She had to hold on to that something.

“You okay?”

Celia forced a smile at Aubrey. “Sure.”

“You used to be a better liar.”

“I’m tired.”

“Just remember why we’re doing this, okay? And…well, I think things are looking up.” Aubrey offered a smile in return, but it was a weird one. It was almost as if Aubrey were…nervous.

If Aubrey was nervous, Celia was downright scared. But her appearance at this swanky party was all a part of showing people she had nothing to be ashamed of. And that she was dealing just fine. Broken heart, uncertainty over her place in the world, aside. She was just fine.

And since she wanted to believe that was true, she wouldn’t be scared.

Aubrey fidgeted. Maybe she was tired of this whole thing, too, though Celia figured she’d always thrived on cleaning up messes. She was so good at it. “I don’t know why you’re nervous, but you don’t have to follow me around like a bodyguard, you know? I can go to this party on my own.” She didn’t always have to be handled.

“Of course you can.”

“So why did you insist on going with me? Are you hiding something from me?”

Aubrey let out an irritated breath. “We have a stop to make before the party.”

Celia’s stomach dropped. “What kind of stop? You’re not pushing me doing that print interview with Bright Lights, are you? I thought we agreed—”

“It’s not an interview,” Aubrey interrupted. “Someone wanted to see you.”

“See me?” Outside the tinted window, LA had disappeared, and they were pulling up to her private hangar. “Who wanted to see me?”

“Just get out of the car before someone notices. Security knows you’re coming.”

“But—” Celia looked out the tinted windows over the fancy private airfield. “Don’t blindside me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“You needed a date to this party. So I found you one.”

“Oh, well that’s clear as mud.”

Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, it wasn’t my idea. For the record, don’t get any ideas about skipping it once you see him. You’re going, and so is he. We need everyone to see you at this party.”

“Aubrey, you’re not making any sense.”

“Yeah, well you want sense, you go talk to him. This was not my idea.” She tapped her phone against her knee. “Just so you know, I didn’t help arrange this so you can go back to Kansas and be Mrs. Little House on the Prairie.”

Celia tried to focus on Aubrey’s words instead of the hollow pit of shock in her stomach. “Ryan?”

“A Podunk reality star wannabe from Kansas,” Aubrey muttered. “I mean, the whole high school boyfriend thing jibes with your image, and he is good-looking, but the reality show thing, really?”

Celia pressed a hand to her stomach. Ryan was here? Here? She didn’t know how to process it. “Just because he’s here doesn’t mean…”

“Oh, please. I know why he’s here and so do you. It starts with L and ends with gag me.”

Celia laughed, pretty sure this limo ride was the first time she’d laughed since she’d left Harrington.

“If you move to Kansas, I am so not following you.”

Jumping the gun, her mind screamed. Still, she couldn’t resist the chance to screw with Aubrey a little bit. “Aw, Kansas will grow on you.”

“Not on your life, sister. Been to the middle of nowhere, and I managed to escape. No way in hell I’m ever going back.” Then she gave Celia a little push. “Go. You’ve got half an hour, then you better be back in this limo ready to face a zillion questions.”

Celia’s hand shook as she reached for the door. She didn’t even process Aubrey’s instructions because… Ryan was here. Here.

She hurried to the entrance, then slowed, then hurried around back to the hangar.

She stopped herself at the side entrance and took a deep breath. If he was here to tell her he loved her, if he wanted to work something out…was she sure, absolutely sure, that’s what she wanted? That it was possible? Surely Aubrey wouldn’t have brought her here if this was about blackmail or something mean? It had to mean something.

It had to.

And then Ryan stepped into view.

Ryan. In a tux. Next to her Cub that he and Nate had fixed up for the show. The crisp white of his shirt contrasted against the tanned skin of his throat, the suit jacket skimming the lines of his side as if it had even been tailored specifically for him. He looked like his own version of rough-and-tumble Hollywood star.

She was dreaming. The exhaustion had gotten to her and this was all a very elaborate, very real dream complete with the metallic smell of airplane hangar and the low rumble of Ryan’s voice.

But she was sure, so sure he was exactly what she wanted.

“You look surprised, so I guess Aubrey can keep a secret.”

Celia swallowed. She didn’t know how to erase the distance between them. This was all so… “You’re…here…in a tux.”

“I was informed this was required attire for your party tonight. I even let Vivvy help me pick it out.”

“You’re coming to the party?” Her voice cracked, because she wanted this too much for it to be real, to be possible. “You let someone help you make a decision?”

“I’m coming to the party, and yes, I let Vivvy and Nate and Aubrey help me. To get here. To you.”

“In a tux. You…you said they were pretend.”

“They are, but I guess I came to the conclusion that pretending, for the right reasons, isn’t so bad. For you? It’s not bad at all.”

“Ryan.”

He must have heard the desperation in her voice, or seen the confusion on her face, or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to close the distance between them. One slow step and a time, he began to do just that.

“I watched the interview.” Another step. Then slowly another.

“O…kay.”

“You were wearing the engagement ring…my ring. And you said you’d always love me. And I thought, maybe, if it’s what you wanted, we could work on making that a permanent thing. Because that’s what I want, but it has to be what you want, too.”

Now he was standing in front of her, close enough to touch. She couldn’t get a full breath, but she managed a few words. “I do love you.” She touched his face. He was real, and he was here. For her. With her.

“I know.” He smiled and took her hand. He took a deep breath, his green eyes meeting hers with a seriousness that took what little breath she had away. “I love you, too, and I want to be part of your life. Even if it means not always doing things my way, even if it means not being comfortable. If it means lying or pretending or whatever keeps us together and happy, I’ll do it. I’ll fit into your world if that’s what you want. I mean, I look pretty good in a tux, right?” He straightened the lapels of his jacket and looked…perfect.

“You’ll make very excellent arm candy,” she said in a scratchy voice that didn’t match the lightness she was trying to accomplish. “But…”

He pressed his forehead to hers, that old gesture. Love. God.

“I should have tried it your way before I bulldozed ahead. I should have considered other people’s opinions, not just mine.” He winced a little at that. “And I’ll try to bend more often—not always—but more often. Because I’ll always love you, too, and if we feel the same after ten years apart, after blackmail and threats, what could possibly change that?”

“Nothing.”

“Damn right nothing. So, I’m here. And instead of assuming you want me in your life, instead of assuming what you want, I’m offering. I’m offering a life with me, wherever that is, however it works. No threats. No blackmail. I just want to be with you. Not your way or mine, but ours. That’s number one on my list.”

Celia swallowed down the tears threatening to choke her. “That’s number one on my list, too.”

He grinned, wound his arms around her waist, and pulled her closer. Celia leaned her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, soaking in the moment. This was right. Absolutely right. “I just want to come home to you, Ryan. That’s what I want. Wherever home is.”

He tilted her head to his, finally touching his mouth to hers. It was tentative, searching, but she melted into it. Exactly what she wanted.

“That’s what I want, too, Cee.”

It seemed crazy to think they’d both finally get what they wanted. Scary to believe it could be, but too good not to work for.

…

By the time they finally entered the party, Ryan was pretty sure he was half-blind from the camera flashes. Combined with the smell of heavy perfume and cologne that coated the room like a fog, his head spun.

But Celia’s arm was around his waist, and his arm was around her shoulders, and even if everyone was staring, whispering, well, he had her. And he’d do whatever it took to keep her.

“How you holding up? You’re looking a little…freaked.”

Ryan squared his shoulders. “I am not remotely freaked.” So he was surrounded by cameras and famous people? They were just people.

Celia chuckled, waving to some woman in a bright-red dress.

“Is that…”

“Yes. And if you tell me you have that idiotic magazine with her naked on the cover, I’ll throw you to the wolves right here and now.” She spoke with a bright Hollywood smile on her face. And then she pinched him under his arm.

“Hey! I don’t have it.”

“Liam!” Celia planted kisses on either cheek of some actor with big muscles and a grizzly beard. “Darling, how are you?”

“Fabulous. But what about you? All these things about your nasty childhood. I was just shocked to hear about it. And the word ‘murder’ being bandied about. My God. Absolutely—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Devoire. I need to speak with Celia for a moment.” Aubrey barged right in, effectively cutting off the guy’s diatribe about Celia’s shocking childhood.

Dickwad.

“Thanks,” Celia mouthed to Aubrey, looking around the room.

“All right. Do the rounds. Kiss cheeks. Shake hands. You’re not a sweater, are you, Ryan?”

“What?”

“Ignore her,” Celia said, giving his arm a squeeze.

“If you get enough people schmoozed and commenting on how happy and wonderful you look together in the next forty-five minutes, I’ll whisk you two out early. Got it?”

Celia nodded, but Ryan scowled. “She going to orchestrate the rest of our lives, too?” He tried to ignore the extreme discomfort he felt. The tuxedo. The people, many of whom he’d seen on TV or in movies—it was all very overwhelming. But it was about to be his life. At least part of his life.

“Damn right I am,” Aubrey returned.

“It’s a lot to get used to,” Celia whispered into his ear, grinning.

“I’ll manage,” he whispered back. He would, because she hadn’t let him go since she’d first touched him. She hadn’t stopped smiling. She was happy, and he was going to work to keep her happy. “For the record, I am not a sweater.”

Celia laughed, then reached up and kissed him, and kept kissing him, despite Aubrey’s hissing at her to stop.

Definitely worth getting used to.