Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Mara
Even though I’d been planning on breaking up with Graham before the event, we spend the entire drive kissing. His lips are soft and firm, and his tongue brushes against my lips until I open on a moan, and he sweeps inside. I want to keep on kissing him forever.
But I’m supposed to be talking, not kissing.
I push a hand to Graham’s chest, forcing space between us. We both breathe heavily, chests heaving together.
Heat floods my system, and my heart races. I can feel Graham’s heart beating hard under the flat of my palm.
Graham smiles down at me. “That was worth the wait.”
Reality crashes in. I’d meant to end things with him on the way to the event, not make out with him.
“We need to talk.”
His smile fades. “Can it wait? It’s bad luck to have a serious talk before an award ceremony.”
“I’ve never heard that before.”
He shrugs. “Besides we’re here.”
The car comes to a stop in front of the convention center, and I can see a crowd forming behind the ropes blocking off a press area. My heart bangs in my chest. I hate having my picture taken.
But that’s what I get for fake dating a celebrity.
“Make sure you keep a tight grip on Cupid’s leash,” I tell Graham. “He’s unpredictable in a crowd.”
“Really?” Graham’s brows draw together. “He seems to eat it up.”
This doesn’t describe the anxious ball of nerves that is usually Cupid. He loves riding in my purse and being close to my body, but give him a long leash, and you’re asking for trouble.
Graham climbs out of the car first, carrying Cupid in his arms. A cheer goes up from the crowd, and my confidence takes a nosedive.
These people love Graham. And they hate me. I brace myself to be called fat, ugly, and a whore.
Usually, I’m not the type to be put off by mean comments. I can take insults about my age, my occupation, or my ass.
But being called a hooker? A gold digger?
Ouch . Those comments really sting.
I take a moment to fix my smeared lipstick, mentally preparing to be attacked.
Then I hear the chant of a name from the crowd. It’s not Graham.
It’s Cupid .
The outpouring of love is not for my best-selling fake boyfriend. It’s for my sweet rescue pup, who has a moderate-to-severe case of anxiety. They’re going to scare the poop out of him. Literally. I’ve cleaned up enough messes to know.
I scramble out of the backseat, leaving grace and dignity inside as I rush to rescue Cupid.
I nearly face plant on the sidewalk getting my spiked heels under me. And that’s when I witness a miracle.
Cupid trots on the end of his leash, pausing occasionally for a photo opportunity.
He’s not anxious or stressed. He’s loving it every minute of it.
The best part is that the crowd is so enamored with Cupid, they don’t even notice me.
Graham turns around, reaching for my hand. His grin makes my heart soar. I place my hand in his and allow him to lead me down the red carpet to the entrance.
I try not to hold my breath, coaching myself to take one step at a time. Cupid’s anxiety seems to have found a new home in me.
“Almost there,” Graham says. “You’re doing great.”
My knees quake with every step. “I don’t know how you do this.”
“It’s not always like this. I’m a nominee this year.” His posture stiffens. “Next year no one will remember me.”
“Don’t say that.” I squeeze his hand. “You’re gonna win. And no one will ever forget you.”
His shoulders relax. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
My heart goes out to him. Graham is not a man to hide what he’s feeling, and nerves radiate off him. Suddenly, I feel terrible for making this night about me.
“Win or lose, you’re the best writer here.”
He looks down at me, a tentative smile breaking through the self-doubt. “You’re a fan of my work?”
A rock settles in my stomach. I’m not much of a reader. I prefer the movies. I lie to Graham, vowing it will be the only time I do so.
“Your books are amazing.”
His brows shoot up, and a bark of laughter escapes his mouth. “You haven’t read a single book I’ve written.”
Unable to contradict him, I misdirect. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Nonetheless, he seems bolstered by my efforts. We sail through the crowd, following Cupid’s lead.
Inside the building, the air vibrates with energy. I’ve never seen so many creatives packed into a room at once.
Cupid is exhausted from his debut and settles in my tote bag for a nap while Graham makes the rounds. He introduces me to dozens of people, lavishing me with praise.
He says I’m not only his girlfriend, but his inspiration. His muse.
When he calls me his “Guiding Light,” I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh.
“What’s so funny?” He steers me toward a table set for eight with our names on little cards.
“That’s a soap opera my grandmother used to watch.”
His dimple flashes as he grins. “You’re my Young and Restless lover.”
A giggle bubbles from my mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You’re my…”
“Graham! Where have you been?” Vanessa Blake swoops in, wedging her tall, slim form between us like a human shield. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“I’ve been making the rounds.” He puts his arm around my waist, claiming me. “Vanessa, you remember Mara. My Bold and Beautiful girlfriend.”
I burst into laughter, bumping Graham with my elbow. Vanessa doesn’t understand the joke. She looks from me to Graham and back to me, her eyes narrowing.
“I need to speak with you in private.”
Graham turns to me apologetically.
“I’ll grab us drink from the bar and meet you back here,” I say.
“You sure?”
I nod. “Take your time. It’s your night.”
Vanessa grabs Graham’s arm, tucking him against her side. “He likes whiskey and coke.”
I make my way to the bar, trying not to be pissed Vanessa knows what Graham drinks and I don’t.
Of course, she knows it. She’s a fixture in his life. I’m just pretend. And his fans hate me.
After I get our drinks, I see Graham is still absent from the table, so I take a stroll past the buffet. Cupid peeks his head out of my bag, whining for a piece of cheese.
“One piece.” I give him a tiny nibble, and a passing server lifts a brow at us.
The next thing I know, a man in a dark suit approaches from nowhere. “No pets allowed.”
I pat Cupid’s head, pushing his little head down in my bag. “He’s not mine.”
The man crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge. “He’s on your person, ma’am.”
I peer over his broad shoulders, looking for Graham, but he’s nowhere in sight. “Let me find his owner. He’s one of the nominees.”
His brows draw together in a doubtful frown. “Who are you here with?”
“Graham Devlin.”
He pulls out his phone and scans the screen, shaking his head. “I don’t see his name.”
“My name should be on there.” I tell him my name and wait while he scrolls through, my heart jumping in my chest. I feel like I’ve been caught sneaking into a movie.
Skeptical dark eyes meet mine. “Can you come with me, please?”
“Wait.” I spot Vanessa Blake and wave her over. “She can vouch for me.”
Vanessa lifts her chin in my direction, then takes her time gliding over.
“Do you know this woman?” the man asks.
“What’s the problem?” Vanessa asks, looking down her nose at me as if she’s not sure she wants to admit knowing me.
I point at Cupid. “He’s not supposed to be here.”
“And neither is she,” the man says. “She’s not on the list.”
Vanessa’s eyes light up, and I see the moment I’m doomed. “Have her and the dog removed, please.”
“But the ceremony is about to start. You can’t kick us out now. Graham will wonder where I am.”
“I’m sorry,” Vanessa says, not sounding sorry. “It’s better if you don’t make a scene.”
I pull out my phone and call Graham, and Vanessa smirks. “He never brings his phone to these things,” she says under her breath so the man can’t hear her. “You can call him later.”
The man escorts me to the back door, and before I can protest any further, I find myself in the back alley where they take out the trash.