Chapter 16
AMY
The next day, I feel a little better, thanks to Maya. And a lot worse, thanks to everything else.
I want him to apologize. I also never want to see him again.
I’ve never felt more unhinged than I do today, but at least I’m off work and can stay cocooned in my flat, licking my wounds and avoiding human interaction like it’s a contagious disease.
I’m still in my pajamas, nursing the tail end of a headache and trying not to spiral when the doorbell shrieks. Not just once—over and over, long and insistent, like whoever’s out there thinks this is a matter of national emergency.
For a moment, I hope it’s my neighbor, Mrs. Perkins, here to yell about the recycling bins again. Honestly? I could use a target.
But when I swing the door open, it’s not her.
It’s a six-foot-something man with broad shoulders filling my doorway, a baseball cap pulled low and dark sunglasses shielding his face.
Before I can speak, he barges in like he owns the place, brushing past me as if I’m not even there. I reel back, slamming the door shut and pressing my back against it like that’s going to protect me.
“What the hell—?”
He stops in the middle of my tiny kitchenette, pulling off the cap and running a hand through his messy blond hair. The smirk that curves his lips is infuriatingly familiar.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, voice smooth as sin. “You almost made me wait.”
I blink, stunned. “Will Winters?”
His grin widens. “The one and only.”
The grief, the nausea, the humiliation—all of it evaporates, swept away in a sudden, violent wave of rage.
My hands ball into fists at my sides. “Get. Out.”
He has the audacity to laugh like I’ve just told him the punchline of a joke. “Nah, can’t do that. See, sunshine, I’m here on official best-friend business.” He gestures vaguely at my phone, still clutched in my hand. “Saw the headlines, I assume?”
The mention of it sends fresh bile rising in my throat.
“Yeah,” he continues, his expression sobering. “That’s why I’m here. Because Jake? He’s about five seconds away from losing his damn mind. And you?” He glances at me, eyes scanning me in a way that feels entirely too perceptive. “You look like you’re two seconds from falling apart.”
I swallow hard, my back still pressed to the door like it’s the only thing holding me up.
“So,” Will says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We’re gonna fix this. Or at least, I’m gonna try.”
I narrow my eyes, my voice trembling but sharp. “Why? Why the hell would you care?”
His smirk fades into something softer, almost… sincere. “Because, sweetheart… I’m not the only one who thinks he doesn’t deserve you. But unfortunately, you’re the only one he wants.” He exhales hard, scrubbing a hand over his face. “And fuck me if my man doesn’t get his unicorn.”
The words make absolutely no sense. I stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “What?”
Will just shakes his head and peels off his sunglasses. Bloodshot, bleary eyes stare back at me.
And despite everything—despite the anger still simmering in my chest—I almost laugh. Because standing in my crappy kitchen, looking like absolute hell, is Will Winters—Hollywood’s golden boy. And for the first time since last night… I don’t feel like the biggest mess in the room.
My hair’s a disaster, and my cheeks are crusted with dried tears… but hey, misery loves company.
Will leans against the counter. “You’re being a stubborn little shit, you know that? I spent half the night stopping my man from spiraling—talking him down from doing something really fucking stupid. Like booking an exclusive interview just to declare his undying love for you on national TV.”
That stings. Would it be so bad? “And… would that really be the worst thing?” I ask quietly.
Will snorts. “For him? Nah. He’s an idiot; he’d survive. You though?” He shakes his head. “People love a hate wagon, sweetheart. And trust me, it’s already rolling.”
I sigh and glance down at my phone, still gripped tight in my hands. “You don’t say…”
Will smirks. “Ah. You read the comments, too, huh? Rookie mistake. You’ll learn.”
“I’ll learn?” I echo bitterly.
He just shrugs, lazily scratching Pea behind the ears—which is unsettling because Pea hates the entire world. Yet here he is, purring like he’s been waiting for him all along.
“Traitor,” I mutter at Pea, but the cat doesn’t even flinch, melting under his touch.
I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to learn. I don’t belong in that world. And seriously, what the hell are you even doing here? How did you find me?”
Will’s grin is pure mischief. “Sweetheart, I’m Will Winters. Make me a coffee, and maybe I’ll tell you all my secrets.”
I narrow my eyes. “Pretty sure most of your secrets would scar me for life.” Then I pause, exhaling. “You called the car company, didn’t you? Had them give you my address.”
His pout is almost… charming. “Smart girls are no fun.”
Against every ounce of better judgment, I turn toward the coffee machine. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m giving you the mug.”
Will squints. “The mug?”
I slam it down on the counter. A pastel pink thing that reads “I’m here for the smut” in glittery script.
Will takes one look and grins. “How’d you know?” he says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Smut’s the foundation of my entire personality.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Or to him.” I jab the button on the coffee maker a little harder than necessary.
Will shrugs. “Fine. Don’t talk, then. Just… listen. Because here’s the thing: I think maybe, just maybe, my idiot best friend found his unicorn. And not all unicorns are destined to die, you know?”
That word again. I blink, frowning. “Unicorn? Are you… high?”
He sighs dramatically and plucks the mug from my hand. “God, I wish.”
“Talk,” I mutter, grabbing my own coffee and reaching for the biscuit tin like I’m going to need reinforcements.
Will takes a long, noisy sip before leaning back against the counter with a self-satisfied grin. “Right. So, I have this theory. It’s called the unicorn theory. Developed over years of surviving Hollywood, thank you very much.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s extremely scientific,” I deadpan.
He ignores the sarcasm completely, savoring another sip. “The unicorn is the one normal person—the rare, impossible human—meant to be with a specific celebrity. Not for the fame, not for the money. Just… because they fit. Perfectly.”
I stare at him from across the table, dead silent. Not because I believe him, but because I don’t know what the hell to say.
Will smirks. “You’re an accountant, right? You can follow the math.”
I narrow my eyes. “God help me, I’m listening.”
“So, for argument’s sake—out of a thousand women, nine hundred want Jake.” He grins. “Out of those, maybe two hundred he’s actually attracted to. Of that two hundred? One-fifty want him for the fame. Thirty for his abs. Nineteen? For both.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And then there’s the one. The unicorn. The one who wants him… not because of all that. Despite all that. And here’s the kicker—he thinks it’s you.”
Will shrugs, and his expression softens. “And for what it’s worth? I’m starting to think so too.”
I stare at him. “That is, without a doubt, the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He groans, dramatically leaning back. “Yeah, well, you’re not the first to say it.”
My throat tightens as the anger creeps back in. “He lied to me.”
Will shakes his head. “No. He didn’t. Trust me. That pathetic nerd you talked to? That was him. No one would choose to look and sound like that unless it was real.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit. Still, I glare. “I want to hurt you right now.”
He grins. “You want to kick me in the balls, don’t you?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Maybe.”
“Yeah.” He smirks. “I get that look a lot.”
I shove a hand through my hair, exhaustion dragging at my limbs. “I don’t want any of this. This world… it’s toxic.”
Will’s grin fades, and he nods. “Yeah. It is… if you let it be.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them back. “People hate me.”
He laughs. “No, sweetheart. They’re jealous. You got Jake fucking Hollander down on his knees. You think that’s hate? That’s envy dressed up as snark.”
I flush—mortified, furious, and aching—too many emotions crashing at once until I feel like I’m drowning.
Will softens, reading it all on my face. “You’re only seeing the negative. It’s human nature. Negativity screams the loudest online, and it gets the most reactions. But trust me, if you actually know where to look… there’s more. Way more.”
Before I can argue, he grabs his phone, typing quickly. He comes around the table and sets it down in front of me. “Look. Yeah, first three comments? Trash. Loud. But scroll. Go to page two. Now read that.”
I hesitate, but I scroll.
"What’s wrong with her? She’s beautiful. You guys are just salty."
"They both look heartbroken—why is she the one getting blamed? Men are trash."
"She’s so lovely. Oh!! Look—Anlon really does love Celandine in real life too."
That last one… it’s stupid. It’s silly. And yet, it warms something deep in my chest that I didn’t know was still capable of feeling anything.
I shove the phone back toward Will, my hands trembling. “I’m done with all that.”
He leans back and watches me carefully. “Don’t you think you owe him the chance to explain? After everything you shared?”
“I don’t owe him anything,” I snap. But even I can hear the waver in my voice, the way my resolve slips—because… I do want to know.
Will lets out a heavy sigh, pushing a hand through his messy hair. “He’s getting ready to fly home today.”
My heart lurches painfully in my chest—but I stay put, my hands gripping my mug. “Well… safe trip home.”
Something shifts in Will’s expression. He nods slowly, his lips twisting. “Alright. Fine. If that’s how you wanna play it?”
Before I can ask what the hell that means, he moves fast, ripping off his hoodie and tossing it aside. His arm snakes around my shoulders, yanking me flush against him. I yelp in surprise just as he presses a kiss to my cheek and, click, takes a selfie.
“Will!” I shove at him, but he’s already typing something on his phone, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
“You’re done, huh?” he mocks, turning the screen toward me. It’s a draft post on his social media. Forty million followers.
The photo? Us. Me looking half-asleep and disheveled, him shirtless with that goddamn smirk.
The caption? Morning afters are the best.
My stomach drops. “You wouldn’t.”
He snorts. “Try me.” He taps the screen. “You see… in this light, it really looks like you’ve actually tried me… all night long.”
“People will think I’m a whore,” I hiss. “And you—you’ll be a woman-stealer!”
Will shrugs, unbothered. “They’ve called me worse. And honestly?” He leans in, his voice dropping. “I don’t give a fuck. But you? You’ll be hated for real.”
I stare at him wide-eyed. “This is blackmail.”
He grins. “Nah. I call it… motivational striking.”
My jaw drops. “You’re unhinged.”
“Yeah. But unhinged is exactly what it’s gonna take to fix this.”