“I hooked up with her best friend.” Ah, fuck. Every time he thought about it, it sliced open the same wound.
Dean exhaled.
“In front of her.”
“Damn.” His friend stretched that single syllable into three.
“Right after she told me she wanted to be with me.”
There wasn’t a day that went by that the memory didn’t pass through him like a shiver. Some days, more like a violent twist. “I can’t stand it.”
“Okay, well, it’s not too late to fix it. It’s never too late.”
Cassian felt a flicker of hope. Because Dean was a problem-solver. He’d help him see the situation clearly. “I don’t know where to start. Every time we talk to each other, she winds up gutting me like a fish.”
“Have you apologized?”
Cassian let out a bitter laugh. “No.”
“Start there.”
“I might’ve made things worse.” He paused. “I kissed her.”
“Before you apologized?”
“Yeah.” Her scent had washed over him, erasing the hotel hallway, driving him back into the heart of them. That lush, sexy mouth, the vulnerability in her eyes…Jesus, she’d slayed him.
Because there was so much more than anger going on inside her. There was hurt…but there was also want. It’s still there.
“Not your best move.”
“Probably not.” Cassian watched her foot stir the water, creating gentle waves that fractured the underwater lights.
“Look, it’s not that complicated. Talk to her. Let her say everything she’s stored up all these years.”
“That’s what I want to do.”
“Well, quit kissing her and let her have her say. Think you can do that?”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t take back what he’d done, but he had six days left with her. Six days to fix things. “Sometimes, I think I’m going to go out of my mind without her. She’s the only one I want to be with, to talk to. It’s always been like that, from the moment I met her. And not having her in my life…” He was saying all this shit out loud, not something he normally did. But with Dean…with Dean he could.
“I’ve got Vivi now, so I get it. And I’m telling you, it’s not too late. Quit fuckin’ around and fix it.”
With both hands full, Cassian kicked her door.
“Hang on a second,” she called from inside.
He was determined, for sure, but also anxious. Gigi was a tough cookie. She wouldn’t be won over easily.
If at all.
A moment later the door swung open, and he was gifted with her bright smile.
Her expression dulled when she saw him. Plucking a to-go coffee from his hand, she said, “Sweet. Thanks. I’ll see you at breakfast.” She let the door fall closed.
His boot kicked out, keeping it ajar.
“Nice reflexes. Not for nothing, all that training you do.” She spun around on him. “I’m running late, so excuse me if I can’t chat.”
He pushed into her room, which smelled of a fresh shower and her expensive scent. “Joey Canton loves muscle cars and root beer floats. I found both.”
She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, about to transform her face into a Lollipop—which meant heavy eyeliner, rosy cheeks, and bright red lipstick. “I didn’t see that on the information sheet.”
He liked her natural. With her creamy complexion and amber eyes framed with dark lashes, she was beautiful. “I did some research. Made some calls. Found a souped-up Mustang to rent for the day.”
Lips parted, she applied mascara to her eyelashes. “He might not be able to leave the hospital.”
“I checked with Kevin. We’re good to go. You in?”
“Of course.”
“Great. See you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
“I can’t be ready that fast.”
“You can’t turn yourself into a Lollipop that fast, but you can be ready by then.” As his hand closed around the doorknob, he heard, “I have to be a Lollipop, you ass. That’s the only reason I’m on this tour.”
“The rental place is two towns over. Fifteen minutes is all we have if we’re going to make it to the hospital on time.”
“Fine.” She screwed the wand into the tube and tossed it into her make-up bag. “I’ll get ready in the car. Let me just get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Eighteen minutes later, Cassian was signing autographs, when he caught movement out the corner of his eye. He glanced over to find Gigi strutting towards him, wearing jean cut-offs, a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and flip flops.
That woman had no idea how her beauty rang a bell throughout his body. Everything about her…
She’s mine. She just is. Whether he got to be with her again or not, he knew—he’d always known—there was no one else for him.
Finished signing the last scrap of paper, he said, “Have a good day, guys.”
He intercepted Gigi on her way to the door. Getting right up in her face, he felt the powerful charge between them. “You’re late.”
Her lips parted. “I’m…” She bit back a grin, nudging his arm. “Shut up. Let’s go.”
He led the way to the car idling under the portico. “What’s in the bag?”
“I told you. I have to turn into a Lollipop by the time we get to the hospital, so I brought everything with me.”
They made their way around the valets and guests coming in and out of the hotel. He reached the taxi first, holding the door open for her. As she ducked into her seat, he felt this terrible twist of longing—to be close to her again. He couldn’t stand the huge, ugly divide.
He got in beside her and reached for his seat belt.
“Davis Rent-a-Car?” The driver peered at him in the rearview mirror.
“That’s right.”
The man scowled. “You understand it’s in another county, right?”
“I do.”
“It’s at least a forty-five-minute drive.”
“I know. It’s cool.”
“Okay.” The driver pulled out of the portico and turned up the radio.
Gigi stared at her phone, but he had the sense she was using it to avoid conversation.
Say something. Anything.
Break the tension. “You like being a Lollipop?” He said it quietly so the driver wouldn’t hear.
“Yep. Love it.” She looked out her window. “My dream come true.”
He placed his hand on the empty seat between them. “I know you always pictured a career more like Pink, but…” He checked to see if the driver was listening, but the guy’s fingers tapped to a beat on the radio. “No matter how you look at it, you’ve achieved massive success. I don’t know how much of it’s your music, but it’s your voice, your personality.” He leaned closer. “You’re a superstar.”
For the first time she looked at him with something other than hate. “None of it’s my music. They write and choreograph everything.”
He figured, if she was talking civilly to him, then the subject mattered to her. Troubled her. And he felt like he finally had an opening. “Do you like doing it?”