“He should feel bad, but that’s not why—”

“When I realized how late it had gotten, it was just easier to bring him along. Christ, I didn’t mean to be so late, but if he didn’t come with me, then I—”

“You would bring him here, knowing how much tonight meant to me? How—”

“—would have been even more late and . . . wait a minute, this is ridiculous.” He finally stopped. We’d been talking over each other. “Say what you want to say, Grace.”

“I already said it. I can’t believe you brought him here.” I crossed my arms and stared hard at him. He was a mess. Torn T-shirt under a dirty blazer, jeans that were always a bit tattered but now looked positively uninhabitable. Taking a closer look, his eyes were bloodshot, but they were wild too—spacey and not at all Jack. He ran his hand over his shorn hair, and I could see he knew I had noticed the change. As he looked anywhere but at me, I saw him catch sight of someone.

“Oh, bloody hell. Here it comes.”

Holly barreled over, standing next to us and effectively blocking us from the rest of the crowd. “Guys, what’s going on? And what the hell, Jack? You get jumped on your way over here?” She fixed the collar on his blazer. Wrong move.

“Jesus, enough!” he snapped, jerking away from her hands.

“Whoa, what’s the problem?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“How much time do you have?” he muttered, eyes scanning the crowd. Nodding to someone, he took my hand and squeezed it. “Come on, Crazy. Let’s go get a drink.”

He started to pull me after him when Holly placed her hand on ours. We looked like a football team in a huddle deciding on a play.

“No hand-holding,” she instructed, her voice all business.

“Oh, fucking give it a rest, why don’t you?” Jack growled, continuing to tug on my hand.

I saw Adam near the bar, watching the entire thing, and I dug in my designer heels. “Jack, I don’t think—”

“You’re not actually going to listen to her, are you?” he asked quietly.

I could see some of the crowd had begun to take an interest in our corner. Camera phones. The last thing I needed at my premiere was a scene.

Like the one you almost caused at his premiere?

Ouch.

But still, coming late, coming drunk, bringing Adam? Who was currently smirking at me from across the room. I looked at Jack again, his eyes were fuzzy.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s go get some coffee.” I squeezed his hand but let go of it before Holly could say anything else. When the hell had I become the adult in this relationship? I waved over a waiter and as Jack fumed next to me, I asked for black coffee.

Holly started to say something else, but I shook my head at her. With a warning glance in his direction, she turned back into the crowd, distracting the camera phones by asking loudly if she had really just seen Zac Efron by the bar.

I put a cup of coffee in Jack’s hand. He ignored it.

“Jack, what’s going on?” I asked quietly. He sighed.

“Nothing, Crazy. Everything’s fine,” he answered as a few members of the cast came over to say hello.

The conversation that needed to happen would have to wait, so I introduced Jack and put on my game face. Our eyes met, and he winked.

Winking wasn’t enough this time.

Hours later I was back at home, tired and confused. As I changed and got ready for bed, I thought back over the evening. Since we’d arrived separately, we also left separately, Jack had Bryan come to pick him up after I left so we weren’t photographed together. Tonight had been a huge night for me professionally, and I was pleased, but I was at a loss as to what I needed to do with Jack. I had alarm bells going off everywhere, but for goodness sake, what was I supposed to do about it? He was young; he was rich; he could do whatever he wanted whenever the mood struck.

But that wasn’t Jack—at least not the Jack I knew. And I’d like to think he was a strong enough person that he wouldn’t let someone like Adam influence him so completely to have changed overnight. No, this behavior was only partly Adam. The rest was Jack.

And Jack had hurt me tonight. Coming late, clearly under the influence, and bringing Adam? I was pissed. Concerned, but also pissed. I knew we weren’t a couple who would embrace in front of a crowd—no public groping—but I still very much wanted him there by my side tonight. I’d been nervous, and I wanted his support.

Were you supportive on his big night?

No, no, I was a total asshole. But do two idiots make a right?

As I was thinking, I heard the front door open and close. Slipping into my white polo, I pushed my hair back with a headband and washed my face. As I applied my moisturizer, I noticed that the lines around my eyes looked a bit more pronounced that normal tonight. It’s amazing how fast a few drinks dehydrated my skin. After adding a bit of extra eye cream, I was brushing my teeth when Jack finally made an appearance in the mirror behind me. I nodded to him, then spit.

Pressing a quick kiss into the space between my neck and shoulder, he started for the bedroom, taking off his clothes as he went. I sighed, knowing his silence meant he didn’t want to talk about it.

I stood in the doorway to the bedroom, our bedroom, and watched him as he shuffled out of his T-shirt and jeans, tossing them into the hamper. I watched as he went about the business of getting ready for bed, plugging in his phone, sipping on the glass of water I had already placed on his nightstand, walking without his normal grace but with the gait of a much older and tired man.

He was exhausted, that much was obvious. As well he should be—the partying was beginning to take its toll. But he still was stunning. Long and lean, still tanned from working in the desert, he was beautiful. He stood with his back to me, stretching his arms over his head and running his hands through his hair, which was just beginning to grow out again.

“You going to say something or are you just going to ogle me?” He smirked, looking over his shoulder at me, his eyes going a much darker shade of green. The body might be tired, but there was no doubt this man was still very much only twenty-four.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked, wisely staying in the doorway. I knew us, and if I got too close, the only talking tonight would be of the dirty variety.

“You’re pissed again?”

“Pissed, yes, but I’m hurt, Jack,” I replied, getting a roll of his eyes in return.

The lust that had come up in his face was quickly replaced by irritation.

“Because I brought Adam?”

“If you have to ask that question, then—”

“Listen, okay? He really felt bad about the last few times he’s been around. He knew how important tonight was, I’ve been going on and on about how proud I am of you. He wanted to come along and show his support. How is that such a bad thing? Bloody hell, Grace, the guy can’t win with you!”

He walked past me and into the bathroom. As he splashed water on his face, I counted to ten. I didn’t want this to escalate further, but now I was getting more than pissed, I was getting mad.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asked from under the towel.

“You don’t get to be pissed at me, okay?”

“I’m sorry I was late, I really am. I can’t believe you’re getting so upset about this.” He turned off the water and looked at me in the mirror.

Pie-eyed, I stared back, incredulous that he still didn’t get it. “This was my night. The only one here that gets to be pissed is me!”

“Oh, that’s rich. You complaining about a big night getting ruined? What about the fucking meltdown you had on me last year?” he yelled, turning and throwing his towel into the corner.

“Jack! Look, we can all agree I was a jerk that night, but it’s like you went out of your way to be an ass tonight!”