I miss home.
Hollywood was lonely. And competitive. Part of her hoped that working in a writers’ room for a TV show might give her some camaraderie. But creative work was tough and cutthroat and there was definitely an air of “survival of the fittest” among some of the industry people she’d met.
Not all, for sure. But many.
Lily had been increasingly wondering when LA would feel like home. She missed living in a place that felt comfortable and familiar. She missed being surrounded by people who knew the real her.
Looking out of the window that faced the back of the property, the outlook was so dark that it felt more like staring at a mirror than a window. She caught sight of her face—made up, cheeks flushed from alcohol and laughter, eyes sparkling.
She looked… good. Healthy. Relaxed.
Happy.
Far happier than she’d been in recent weeks, that was for sure. And, if she was truly honest with herself, it had been a long while since she’d even thought about relaxing, let alone actually doing it. But that was the life of a creative—long hours, nose to the grindstone, always chasing the next opportunity.
She could relax when she established herself.
Just as she was about to drag her eyes away from the window, she caught the reflection of a body in the doorway. Sean. A smile curved her lips.
When she turned, he was leaning against the door frame, looking every bit as delectable in reality as he did in her head. Dark jeans enhanced the length of his long, muscular legs and a close-fitting shirt sat open at the collar. The black beads on his wrist poked out from the cuff of the shirtsleeve, reminding her that, even dressed up, he was a surfer guy at heart. His facial hair looked rough-and-tumble sexy, and his pale, icy eyes pinned her from across the room.
“Were you planning to announce yourself, or were you going to keep watching me from a distance?” she teased.
“That dress is made for attention,” he replied.
She waited for a sign he was teasing her back, but with the intensity radiating from him, it was hard not to take the compliment seriously. Perhaps he could hear people outside the kitchen, and he wanted to make sure they sounded like an actual couple.
A faint warmth rose into her cheeks. “You like?”
“Very much.”
He walked over to her. The kitchen felt strangely quiet compared to the chatter and liveliness of the lounge room. The faint pulse of music came through the wall—a smooth jazz that had a faintly festive vibe—and there was a burst of laughter followed by a cheer. It made the kitchen feel even more intimate.
“Not bad for a goody two-shoes, huh?” she said, pouring a little more champagne into her glass and taking a sip.
“Have you kept a running list of all the things I called you over the years?” He leaned back against the counter next to her.
“You weren’t wrong about most of it,” she said with a sigh. “I was a goodie two-shoes.”
“It was nothing but envy. You know that, right?”
“Envy?” she scoffed. “Please.”
“Yes, envy. Sitting next to you every day in homeroom was torture,” he said. “Everything you touched turned to gold, and I wanted to hate you for it. Only I didn’t. Instead, I had to deal with the fact that you were so incredibly gorgeous that I could barely take my eyes off you.”
She sucked in a breath. Had he really thought of her as gorgeous? Had he really been unable to take his eyes off her? She’d been the mousiest little thing, a shy bookworm who was too awkward to string a sentence together around boys. With braces and glasses there for a while, too. And while she appreciated having straight teeth now—plus Lasik to fix her eyes—sometimes she felt like she’d never fully grown out of her ugly duckling phase.
“You had no idea?” he asked. “Seriously?”
“You’re not being serious.” She shook her head.
“I am. Deadly serious.”
Then why did you date Lisa?
It was a question that had swarmed her mind for years. Through Year Eleven and Twelve, Sean had dated a friend of hers—a bubbly, outgoing, curvy-bodied girl who was everything Lily wasn’t. She’d always envied Lisa. Not in a bad way, and she’d certainly never let it affect their friendship, but everything seemed to come easily to her.
Guys. Grades. Sports. Sex.
While Lily had been a late bloomer in every possible way. It was one reason she loved to write—because she could create the kind of woman she’d always wanted to be. She could write versions of herself that were better than the flawed reality. Women with quick wit and unshakable confidence and loads of courage. And yeah, she gave them boobs that were a little more impressive than her own B-cups. Not to mention that she could write about men who wanted forever with her.
Men… like they’re not all some version of Sean.
Maybe they were. Or maybe it was simply that he embodied her idea of a perfect romantic lead. He was strong, spontaneous, exciting.
Oh, so sexy.
“You’re pulling my leg,” she said, shaking her head.
“I wish I was.” He looked like he wanted to say more.
“I think you’re lying,” she said, placing her champagne flute down and tapping him playfully on the chest.
She couldn’t let Sean get into her head. He was a master flirt. Had been ever since he was old enough to stand up on his own. And as grateful as she was that he was giving her some cover from her mistakes, this wasn’t real. As soon as the wedding was over, she would go back to LA and he would go back to Australia, and this whole episode would be nothing but a memory.
In a few months’ time, she might even wonder if she’d imagined it.
“I’m hurt that you would think so poorly of me.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offence. “I am a trustworthy bloke.”
“Really?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Because I have a distinct memory of some salt-water-drenched slacker claiming that a kangaroo ate his homework.”
“Salt-water-drenched slacker, huh? I think that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.” His smile was so unabashed and so charming that Lily couldn’t help but laugh as she rolled her eyes.
Nobody had ever hated him, not even the teachers who were constantly putting up with him being late to class and never handing his assignments in on time. That’s the kind of guy he was—charming to the bone. Friend to all. A ray of sunshine.
“You need new friends if that’s the case,” she fired back, enjoying the banter.
“Also, I think it’s a little rich coming from you.” He sniffed. “Just saying.”
Her mouth popped open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you had to be coaxed into the water because you hated the feeling of sand sticking to your legs afterward.”
She frowned. Okay, so that was true. Who liked sand? Honestly? It was grainy and gross and got into places where it shouldn’t be.
“Sand is awful, and the beach would be better without it.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Sorry not sorry. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun.”
“Can I get your definition of fun, please? And I won’t accept any answer that involves sitting inside alone or anything to do with work.”