Chapter 68
HARLOW
“I’ll call my security to come and get me,” Spencer says on a sigh, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He’s already been here two hours, and we’ve checked twice, the last being five-minutes ago, and the paparazzi and celebrity journalists are still outside.
I shake my head. “All that does is confirm they’re in the right place.”
He turns to me with an incredulous expression. “They know my car.”
“Right,” I sigh, sliding my hands into the back pockets of my jean shorts I put on shortly after we got here. “If you want to leave, you can, but you can always stay here.”
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Do you want me to stay?”
“I don’t know what I want,” I answer honestly. That’s been my issue for a long time. “But if you’d rather not deal with them, then just stay. You can sleep in Roe’s bed.”
He presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wouldn’t share your bed with me? You’d let me suffocate beneath our daughter’s plethora of stuffed animals?”
“Yeah.”
Chuckling, he shakes his head. “At least you’re honest. You got anything in here we can eat for dinner?” He opens my fridge, poking his head inside.
It’s weird seeing him here, so casual in my space after everything. My thoughts drift to Jameson and I wonder what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, but I don’t feel like I have the right to reach out and ask him.
“Frozen pizza,” I reply.
“Red Baron?” he asks eagerly, referring to his favorite brand.
“Always.”
“Sweet.” He opens the freezer and procures the pizza. He puts the oven on to preheat and gets the pizza prepped to go inside.
“What do you really think of all this?” I ask him, settling on one of my barstools to watch him.
“All of this what? Our affair?” he asks in a teasing tone, though there’s a seriousness in his eyes. He knows just as much as I do that what we did was fucked up. But sometimes, if you don’t try to joke, you’ll completely fall apart.
“I mean the being followed by paparazzi part.”
“Oh.” The oven beeps and he slides our pizza inside.
“It’s certainly not my favorite, but it’s part of the job, especially when…
” He trails off, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, when you’re the center of gossip.
I don’t understand the people who call paparazzi on themselves, though. That’s always baffled me.”
“You might not be allowed to tell me, but did you get that part you mentioned a few months ago. The superhero one?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Why? Are you looking forward to seeing me in what’s practically latex?”
“I’ve seen you naked, so it’s no difference to me.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Yes, I got the part,” he says when he sobers.
“And you’re glad you got it?”
“Yeah,” he answers. “I know it sounds crazy, since it’s not like I ever did any of this before, but I love acting. It’s fun and I’m good at it.”
“You are,” I admit reluctantly.
Even though I avoid any show or movie with him in it like the plague—because it’s weird seeing someone you know in real life act like an entirely different person—I’ve seen enough clips to know that he exudes raw talent and magnetism on the screen.
I’m certain he could have chemistry with an apple if he needed to.
“I like that,” he admits. “You thinking I’m good.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Never,” he teases. “Now my dick? I’ll let it go there.”
“Spencer,” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “It just slipped out. I’ve missed this,” he says in a serious tone. “Just laughing and joking with you.”
“Me too,” I admit.
Things were rough for so long with my struggles adjusting to motherhood that sometimes I forget how good we were together prior to all of that.
He plants his hands on the counter and leans close to me. “I know you need time, and I’m going to respect that, but all I ask is when you’re ready to put yourself out there again, that you give me a chance. A real one.”
“What if I have nothing to give?” I ask softly. “What if I’m too broken?”
He looks me over with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. “There’s no such thing as too broken. Not to me. I’ll take whatever pieces you can give me and fill in the rest so you’re whole again.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Why don’t you let me decide that?”
“It’s just the truth.”
“Just because you’ve struggled with your mental health, and made mistakes, doesn’t make you undeserving of love.”
“I cheated on Jameson. That’s horrible. I never thought I’d be that kind of person. And I’m pretty sure you’re biased in this whole thing.”
“Perhaps,” he agrees. “But I’d argue I’ve known you long enough to truly know who you are at your core. Bad choices don’t change who you really are.”
“I hate myself right now,” I confess.
He gives me a sad, soft smile. “It’s okay. I’ll love you enough for the both of us until you’re ready.”
And somehow, I know he’ll do just that, even if I don’t deserve it despite what he says.