Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
In my head, I went over all the reasons she might be back. Had she come back for a job? It couldn’t be for that role–the asshat director had made a big thing of casting an unknown who had filmed her audition tape on her phone.
Raw talent, he kept saying. He didn’t invoke Destiny’s name again, but his omission felt smug and pointed. I wanted to punch his pinched face in, but more than that, I wanted to see Destiny. I didn’t have anything to offer. Landon hadn’t dug up anything substantial on Jasmine that I could use as leverage. I could get her the best defamation lawyer in town, but then again, she could do that on her own. For the hundredth time this week, I felt an infuriating, swamping sense of impotence. I hated that I was showing up empty handed to the one person in the world I wanted to give everything.
It didn’t matter if I’d brought her Adrian Yester’s head on a platter, though. When I got to her place, it was empty. I stared around in disbelief. It was worse than last week when it had been empty of her. Now it was actually completely empty. The couch was gone, leaving four welts in the thick carpet. The wall the TV had hung on was freshly patched. The refrigerator had been cleaned out and cleaned. I was standing in her bedroom when the realtor let himself in, then nearly had a heart attack when he saw me.
“Where is she?” I asked as he recovered.
“Who?” he asked, heel of his hand pressed to his heart.
“Destiny.”
“Upsizing, I heard.” Then he made a face, realizing he should have denied even knowing who had lived here. I could tell he recognized me. Not surprising since my picture had been on every tabloid for the last week. Split screen covers of me, Destiny, and Andrew. One had even featured a still from one of Noemi’s wedding scenes–a reminder to the public that America’s sweetheart had once been married to the man on the obscure point of the love triangle.
So the realtor knew I wasn’t some stalker, but he wasn’t sure what to do about me.
“Maybe you should leave her alone,” he offered quietly. “She and Andrew...”
I knew. They made sense to the public. Hell, they made sense to me. But whether it would help her career or not, Destiny hadn’t wanted him. She’d wanted me. I had to believe that some part of her still did.
“I can’t.”
He looked surprised, then sympathetic. “Well, to quote the old song–you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. I have an open house in half an hour, and I have to get cookies in the oven.”
I called Noemi when I left.
“Do you have any other addresses for Destiny other than her apartment on Sunset?”
“I have her mom’s address in LA,” Noemi said without hesitation. “I’ll send it to you now.”
I rerouted to a neighborhood on the outskirts of town. An ungated community where the unfamous, moderately wealthy and the C-list celebrities lived. Nice houses without being opulent. A neighborhood watch instead of paparazzi. I liked it in theory, but I wanted Destiny in a place with more security. Whether she liked it or not, she had a target on her back that was getting bigger every day she escaped the lens.
I pulled into the driveway of the address Noemi had sent me. For a minute, I thought I was about to look through an empty space for a third time. The curtains were drawn, making the house look stoic and still, like no one had disturbed its front door for a long time. Then I saw one of those curtains twitch back.
I got out of the car and approached slowly, giving us both a chance to prepare for what was next. Destiny opened the door before I knocked, her brows knit and her full mouth unsmiling. “I told you I needed some time.”
“You’ve had it,” I replied, letting myself in even though she didn’t seem inclined to step aside. I shut the door for her.
“I haven’t had enough,” she said, her hand still grasping the knob.
I looked down at her, close enough to kiss her if she gave me even the slightest opening. Destiny’s frown deepened. “I also need space,” she said pointedly.
“You’ve had that, too.” But I stepped away and treated myself to a tour of the first level. Destiny trailed after me.
“Garrett, you can’t just show up here.”
“That’s what I thought.” I glanced around the kitchen, the dining room, the den. All the rooms were nice, but there was an empty, hollow feeling to the house. One person wasn’t enough to fill it. It wasn’t like the bungalow that was designed for a compact life. This house begged for a family.