“Killing me, Grace.” He sighed as he sank back onto his pillow, draping his arm across his eyes and adjusting himself with his other hand.

I forced my eyes back to the breakfast and away from the accidental erotica that was playing out on the other side of the bed. I brought over the tray, sitting cross-legged opposite him, keeping the tray between us. I knew him. If I were next to him, the tray would go flying.

He sat up, running his hands through his hair as though he still had it and grimacing as he did so. Tongue thick, he gestured for the bottle of water I had brought. I handed it to him. He drained it. I sugared his coffee and passed it to him. He accepted it gratefully. His eyes were bright green this morning, made even more striking by the redness and circles underneath. He looked young and old at the same time, and as I ate my fruit, I contemplated how to proceed.

“You’re pissed again,” he offered, making my decision for me.

“I’m pissed again,” I admitted, nibbling on a muffin.

He was sticking to coffee, turning his nose up at any food, actually paling a little when I offered him some bacon. He was hungover. Good. He needed to feel this.

“Grace, I didn’t know there were photographers out there. How could I have known that?”

“Oh, I’m not pissed about that. I’m pissed about the fact that you were so drunk off your ass that now that’s the story on every gossip site this morning: your inability to deal with your fame in any other way than drinking.”

“Oh, now I’m an alcoholic?”

“I didn’t say that, but the press isn’t that far off from it.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not an alcoholic.”

“No shit. What you are is partying way too much and making an ass of yourself. And how shocking, Adam Kasen is there every time this happens.”

“You think he’s behind this?”

“I don’t really care who’s behind this. I don’t care who made sure the press knew exactly where we were last night. I don’t care who’s quoted as a source in every article online right now. What I care about is you and how you’re handling yourself in public.”

“Oh, great. Now I’ve got another woman telling me what to do. Between you and Holly managing every single aspect of my career, I’ve about had it,” he snapped, stepping out of the bed and onto the floor, remembering afterward that he was naked.

He stood there, his anger dissipating in the cool air, along with anything else that might have been worked up.

“I’m not wearing any pants.”

“I can see that.”

“Where are my pants?”

“In the bathroom on the floor, where you left them last night after you threw up.”

“I threw up?”

“You don’t remember that?”

“No. I remember being out back with you, and then . . . bollocks, that’s the last thing I remember.” He sighed, hands on his hips as he surveyed the room.

“I’m still naked,” he said after a moment.

“I’m aware of this,” I replied, trying to keep my stern face on. He knew me better, however.

“If I apologize naked, will that hold any more weight than a clothed apology?”

“I don’t want you to apologize, Jack. I just want you to think next time, think about what you’re doing.”

“So then a naked apology would be wasted?” He bumped his hips back and forth a bit as I struggled not to laugh.

“I’d rather the apology be wasted than my boyfriend.”

“That was pretty good, Crazy.”

“Still not kidding.”

“Still not wearing pants,” he said, now turning himself toward the bathroom. “Did you say they were this way?” He pointed in a rather unconventional way.

He had recovered quickly. I was going to lose control of this conversation very soon. I could tell where this was headed. I crawled across the bed to him, sitting on my knees in front of him, bringing him close and hugging him. Pressing my face into his tummy, I kissed him quickly then turned my face up to his, which I found gazing down at me. He pushed a curl behind my ear, then brought his hand to my mouth, where I kissed his knuckles.

“I know I’ve been saying this a lot lately, but it’s not sinking in. Just be careful, okay?”

“I will, Grace. I will. Now, about sinking in?” He pressed his body against me in a way that could not be misinterpreted.

“Would you quit being so charming? I’m still pissed at you,” I warned as he pushed me back against the bed and had me out of my yoga pants in two seconds flat.

“I know,” he answered, pressing into my body exquisitely.

Turns out I was able to orbit the earth a few times and still be pissed off.

“Put him on the phone.”

“Holly, I told you. He’s in the shower.”

“Get him out.”

“No. But I promise he’ll call you as soon as he’s done.”

“Bring the phone into the bathroom. You can tell him everything I’m saying.”

“Do you have this kind of access to everyone you represent or just the ones fucking your best friend?”

“Cute, asshead. Real cute.”

She chuckled, and I could tell she was backing down a bit. I breathed out. This being in between the two of them was beginning to wear a bit thin. I curled my legs underneath me, settling into the comfy sofa with another cup of coffee. After making sure I wasn’t too pissed to come—repeatedly because he’s thorough like that—Jack had disappeared into the shower to clear his head, and I finished breakfast. It was a rare day lately that we were both at home with nowhere to go and nowhere we needed to be, so I was planning on circling the wagons a bit and spending a quiet day with my boy.

“I assume you’ve already seen the pictures?” Holly asked.

“I have. Did you notice no deer-in-headlights this time?”

“Yep, you’re learning. Few more of those and you’ll be a pro.”

I bit my tongue. She called me out on my silence.

“I know you’re not quiet over there because you’re surprised by this, are you?”

“I just didn’t expect it last night is all. How did they know we were there?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Adam?”

“Adam,” she replied.

“You’re sure?”

“Not completely, but it makes the most sense. Although honestly, it could have been anyone. There’s no real rhyme or reason. You two could go parade down Sunset in front of Grauman’s Chinese right now and no one would notice, but you buy one box of condoms at the grocery store, and it’ll be front-page news. Don’t buy your own condoms, by the way. I’ll get someone to get you some when you need them.”

“Oh, please, we haven’t used condoms since we first were together.”

“You’re being careful, though, right? Although Hollywood babies are a great accessory . . .”

I laughed. “Ha! And yes, we’re being careful. Would your rule also apply to purchasing multiple containers of whipped cream at a time?”

“Yeah, don’t do that. Oatmeal is safe, though. No one cares if you’re buying oatmeal.”

“Does Michael like oatmeal?”

“Nah, he’s a Cheerios guy. He— Dammit. Well played.”

“Spill it!” I screamed into the phone, thrilled that she had given up the dirt so easily.

“There’s nothing to spill, actually.”

“Bullshit, spill it.” I giggled, pushing her. It was nice to be the pushy one.

“There’s nothing really to tell. It just, sort of, happened.”

“Exactly what happened?”

“It’s just, it’s good. Really good, okay?” she replied, a smile evident in her voice.

“What about Lane?”

“I adore Lane. He’s a great guy, but that was never going to be anything beyond what it was.”

“Amazing sex?”

“Amazing sex, yes.”

“How’s the sex with Michael?” I asked, knowing full well how good it was from our one-night stand back in college. This wasn’t weird for me, and I hoped it wasn’t going to be weird for them.

“Um, well, the thing is . . .”

“You haven’t fucked him yet?” I shrieked.

Jack padded down the hall from the bedroom, towel around his waist, still dripping. “What are you yelling about?” he asked.