Page 52 of Burn the Script

He sets the cup in the sink, and his expression softens as he leans on the island I’m hunched over. “Everything will change for Miguel. You’ll both be put on trial, but you’re equipped to handle it. He’s not. If we plan ahead, and you don’t do anything foolish or rash, we can drive the narrative. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen.”

I need to run the idea by Miguel. He ended our relationship because I made decisions without consulting him. Igniting an uncontainable media firestorm is a major decision. Chances are, we’ll have to put our lives on hold and stay locked down after the news breaks. Look at Tatum. She embarrassed herself on stage one too many times, and the media forced her into hiding for months.

A public announcement will have to wait until after filming. I may be a good multitasker, but even I have limits and can only juggle so many things at once.

A delirious giggle bubbles out of me. I forgot I’m making a movie. The lack of sleep could be to blame for all my blunders, like also forgetting to ask my driver to wait for me.

Looking up at Jonathan, I flutter my lashes. “Right now, I could use a ride to the airport.”

22

GRAHAM

THEN

December, Year Two

Tatum moved with grace as we spun around the polished parquet floor. She looked lovely in an ice-blue satin dress, and the silver pins tucked in her braided bun sparkled beneath the chandeliers, creating a halo effect that drew the eye. Every ten seconds, my attention drifted to the corner of the hotel ballroom where Miguel stood with Maisy, strangling a glass of tequila sunrise in his fist.

I shouldn’t have stared at him so much, but it was impossible to look away. He was more handsome than ever, dressed in a burgundy tuxedo jacket and a black bow tie, his dark hair gelled and styled to perfection. The one accessory out of place was the panic in his eyes as they darted around the room, landing on everyone but me.

The winter gala my friends and I attended when our schedules allowed it raised money for fine arts programs in disadvantaged communities. As creatives from humble backgrounds, the cause was near and dear to our hearts. After weeks of begging, I persuaded Miguel to join us. He should’ve been in my arms, not Tatum.

She hid her face in my neck. “Go to him.”

“Wish I could,” I murmured with my lips pressed in her hair.

We’d learned to keep our voices low and our mouths concealed when speaking in public. Our past conversations had been splashed across tabloid headlines too many times.

I let out a quiet sigh. “Despite what he says, he’s battling with our relationship.”

“What does he say?”

As the instrumental pop song hit a crescendo, I turned us, putting my back to the bulk of the crowd. “That he’s happy and I have no reason to feel guilty when he’s the one encouraging our secret.”

“But?” she asked.

“I think he’s lying to himself…and me.”

Most days with Miguel were blissful. We rarely argued, never strained for conversation, and the sex was abundant and incredible. There were times, however, when he’d retreat into silence and distance himself from me. He blamed stress and his job, but I was convinced there was more to the story.

Tatum looped her arms around my neck. “It’s been two years, and he hasn’t run.”

“But how much longer is he willing to hide in plain sight?” I asked.

“You guys aren’t very good at hiding. Too many people know about your relationship.”

We were terrible at hiding. At least, I was. Miguel’s aversion to public displays of affection may have been our only saving grace. I longed for the day when I could hold his hand in front of someone without asking for a signed NDA. I wanted the whole world to know he’d chosen me.

As if reading my mind, Tatum murmured, “We should break up.”

I jerked my head back and smirked. “Wow. Dumped on the dance floor. That’s cold, Tot. Who knew you had it in you?”

Her forced laughter was a performance for the audience. Tatum buried a galaxy of sadness behind her bright smile. “I can’t keep using you as a security blanket. It’s time to put my big panties on.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“You know what I mean.”