33
“It Couple Luna Aldridge and Kieran Alexander Crash Wedding After Premiere”
—Rumor Has It
KIERAN AND I filled in the edges of a red Uno card again during the Saving September premiere, jotting down one-word answers to two-word questions. Favorite color? Lilac. Worst food? Beans. Favorite sport? Tennis obviously, he wrote, breaking our one-word pattern—in which I proceeded to snort.
Once the movie finished, Kieran and the cast accepted a standing ovation. After, he took my hand and whisked us out of the theater to the most vibrant corners of Cannes.
Everything was twinkling stars and warm waves splashing under boats in the harbor until we saw a woman in a white dress crossing the street with a group of friends wearing matching pink dresses, posing for a photographer. Realization spread across her face as she caught sight of Kieran.
“You must come back to our reception. Please, this would be the wedding gift of a lifetime,” she begged, clutching his hand. Bridesmaids flanked her side.
He looked to me for an answer.
What was I going to say? No?
Sorry, ma’am, I actually have this allergic reaction where any time I see, say, or hear the word “wedding,” I instantly burst into tears!
We were ushered up a set of cobblestone steps and into a courtyard where a small bar was set up and a few musicians played for dozens of guests.
Many of whom surrounded Kieran instantly.
I blamed him for this.
“Two brandies, please—oh, do you happen to have Kirsch? That would be perfect, thank you.” One brandy for having to watch Kieran’s hand around Eliza Whitfield’s waist on the red carpet earlier, then pining over and making out with her for two hours in the film.
(So much for dying to see Saving September.) And a second brandy for having to witness this wedding.
This is what I got for trying to let loose. I listened to Cecilia and Deidra, and I’ve ended up at a wedding.
The middle of my back pressed into the wooden bar top. A group of women were glued to his side. Maybe it would be nice to help him. But seeing the bride and groom nearby made my eyes well like an overflowing dam.
Staring at the bride, I was reliving a recurring nightmare I had spent the past year trying to suppress. I had worn a white dress just like that: midi length with a straight neckline and lace overlay. Jeremiah had told me I looked like a lily.
“I want to put you in a vase and look at you all day. I can’t believe you’re my wife now,” he had said. I wore it until the sun rose the next morning. I never wanted to take it off.
“Wooo!”
My focus was pulled back to the crowd. A woman was running her hands up and down Kieran’s chest like she was about to rip his shirt off and make him the poster boy for airport romance book covers. His eyes were shining with uncomfortable shock.
Time to intervene.
I spun around, downed my two—well-deserved—drinks, and made my way to the center of the courtyard. Lights were hung above on wrought iron awnings. It set the stage for the oceanic view behind everyone.
Kieran stood out, of course. His jacket was off, highlighting the shape of his shoulders.
“Do you mind if I cut in?” I asked once I reached them.
They spun in surprise. Her hands fell as she looked me up and down. But Kieran didn’t wait for her answer.
“Are you asking to dance with me, Aldridge?” He smirked. It made my heart beat at an uncomfortable rate as if I were racing across the court, trying to fight time. I wanted to press my hand against my chest to make it stop.
“Maybe I am.” I lifted my chin.
“Thought you’d never ask.” He took my hand and backed up a few steps before tugging me forward. A tornado of rain-soaked leaves swirled in my stomach as he spun me, my back hitting his chest. His hand was on my hip and his cheek against my temple.
“You’re welcome,” I commented.
“For?”
I removed myself from his chest and turned, putting his hand on my waist and the other in my palm.
“Saving you!”
“Oh, no no,” he responded with a crooked smile. It was filled with that playful argumentative tone I loved. You could tell from the way his eyes narrowed and how he tilted his head that he was trying to provoke me.
Joke’s on him, he always provoked me.
“You were watching me drown in women for at least fifteen minutes before you intercepted the strip-tease Caroline over there was trying to get out of me,” he argued.
His comment pulled my laughter right out. My head fell forward. “Don’t lie, you were having a good time in the beginning.” I poked his chest.
“Says who?”
“Says the look on your face!”
“Who says that look wasn’t because I was trying to get your attention?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Did you want me to be having a good time?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Would you want me to have a good time with other women?” His voice had lost any humor now.
No, God no.
It was painful enough to see every actress from the premiere run their hands up his arms and brush their lips against the shell of his ear. It was like they were passing around a goddamn glass of champagne.
But I couldn’t tell him that. That was foolish.
“Why does it matter? It’s against the rules to mingle with the enemy anyway,” I answered.
“Ah, of course. But haven’t you technically broken those rules?”
“What? By dancing with you?”
“I was more so thinking of the kiss from the other night.”
“Oh, that.” My tone came out more like a withered question than a statement.
“Hm,” he hummed deeply. It echoed against my chest.
“Have you been thinking about that a lot?” I asked, looking up. My words teetered on a tightrope.
“You don’t want my answer to that.” He laughed, but it was coated in anything but humor. Restraint, perhaps.
“I know this is just an act,” I said, defending my curiosity. “I wasn’t asking for you to reveal some confession.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Well, if this wasn’t an act, I’d tell you that I enjoyed it, probably more than I should have.
To the point that it haunts me the way a good book stands at the edge of your mind until you pick it back up to read for a second time.
I fear the haunting won’t stop unless I’m reminded of it again. ”
I needed to hear it. “Reminded of…”
“That kiss.”
A drought seemed to overtake my mouth. I was incapable of collecting words from the English language and stringing them together.
“If this wasn’t an act, of course,” he repeated.
“Yes, of course,” I agreed. “I’m too much of a romantic for feigned intimacy anyway. I’m not sure how you do it.”
“Some instances are easier than others.”
I nodded, pretending I understood his life as an actor. “Does it make dating hard?”
“It doesn’t make things easier. But I also don’t have much to go off of. Dating in this space is… complicated. In my last relationship, I was cheated on, so I haven’t done much genuine dating since.”
I knew exactly who he was talking about.
All of Hollywood knew that Kieran only ever had one notable public girlfriend: Penelope Collins.
The media labeled it a “fling” because they were seen together so rarely.
I didn’t realize it was serious, let alone that it had ended because he was cheated on. That… that didn’t make any sense.
Witty, well-dressed, handsome, talented, protective Kieran who made heart-melting eye contact when you spoke, and kept a hand on you at all times so you knew he was there. None of it made sense.
“I’m sorry,” I said, squeezing his hand as we swayed to the music.
I had an uncomfortable urge to ask what had happened. Where had things gone wrong? Had he tried to stay with her after?
Were there common signs before your partner cheated on you? Was there something I triggered? Was I too clingy? Was I not as beautiful as a lily anymore? I never had the chance to find out.
But now, looking at Kieran, none of them made sense. Because how could an answer to any of those questions justify hurting him?
“It’s in the past,” he responded.
“You really haven’t dated anyone since?”
“I haven’t found a lot of people I trust.” His eyes darted to the wedding guests, swaying with us.
“I hope you find that,” I told him sincerely. His gaze returned to me, surprised and melancholic.
When his lips didn’t part, I realized being here was uncomfortable for him too.
I tossed the idea out. “I think you’ve given the gift of your presence long enough here. We should go.”
He finally cracked a smile. “I agree.”
I let go of him. “Just going to grab two more drinks!”
“Mierda!” His hands latched onto my hips, pulling me back onto the sidewalk. “How much did you drink?” he scolded me as a car flew by us.
“Watch where you’re going!” he shouted in French at the passing car. He was hauntingly handsome when he was angry. Nothing like Jeremiah, whose anger felt like a flaming gun pointed straight at my chest.
“Not much. Just enough to make up for the next five weeks of nonstop tennis.” I smiled brightly.
“God, Felix is going to kill me. We should get you back.”
“How do you know Coach? Never mind, it doesn’t matter, I just want to find somewhere to sit,” I complained, my feet aching in my heels.
“Well, we can do that back at the hotel—”
“Oh, down there!” I clutched my long skirt and ran across the street before a car raced by again.
There was a descending stone staircase that led to a grand fountain, filled with iridescent blue water.
My heels tapped the stairs, sprinting to get to the fountain before Kieran could catch me.
It paid to do five hours of cardio a day.
“Luna!” he shouted from behind. It made my heart double in speed, pumping blood in and out like an engine.
It didn’t slow as I stopped in front of the luminescent water.
I balanced on one foot at a time, flicking my heels off. The cobblestone was warm against the soles of my arched feet. The air was so heavy, even without the day’s sun. My lips felt swollen from the heat, as if I had sucked on a pepper the way you’d suck on a lemon.
“What are you doing?” he shouted with a sense of panic, crossing the courtyard.
“I just need to cool off a bit!”
Holding on to my skirt, I lifted my leg over the stone threshold and stepped into the cold fountain. It reached my knees and darkened the hem of the blue silk. It was refreshing. Like cold sand pressed between your toes on the beach.
“Oh my God, I’ve never been so conflicted in my life. As incredibly sexy as this is, you need to get out of the fountain.” His commands wavered. He had a foot on the stone. Did he think he was going to coax me out like a duck?
“Aw, are you worried?” I pursed my lips. “Come in, have fun. Don’t be boring!” I flicked water at him.
“I am not boring. I am the most fun person in this duo. But this will not be fun when your picture is plastered across newsstands tomorrow.”
“Who cares!”
“Usually you! And when you wake up and see the pictures, you’ll kill me and then you’ll have to pay for my funeral, and I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”
“At least I’d be followed around by a hot ghost.” I giggled. When he didn’t laugh back, I added, “I’m going to bury you in a pet cemetery.”
“Christ, that’s it. I’m coming to get you.” He took a step into the fountain and visibly shivered. “It’s freezing, Aldridge! What the hell, you’re going to get sick.”
“Baaaaby.” I made fun of him.
He wore a grimace that could kill. “You’re paying for my dry cleaning—these are my favorite shoes.”
I laughed at his childish concern—
“Ah!” I screamed as his hands braced my hips and lifted me over his shoulder. “Put me down!”
“Not until we’re out of this fountain!”
I pounded my fists against his back until he was stepping out of the water, placing me on the edge of the stone.
“What are you doing?” I asked with confusion. I would have bet everything on him carrying me all the way back to the hotel with that determined expression on his face.
He sank to one knee. “Putting your shoes back on.”
He lifted my foot and slid one heel on, then the other. Tying the straps around my ankles, his fingertips brushed my skin. Moonlight sparkled in the fountain, bouncing off his cheeks. Perfect ripples of light danced across his face like a Roman statue.
He was so pretty.
“I think you’re pretty too,” he responded, surprising me. Apparently I said that aloud.
I moved a strand of hair away from his brow. He immediately looked up.
“Kiss me,” I told him, resting my hand on his cheek. The surprise in his slack jaw changed the course of the dancing waves across his face.
He glanced down at my lips. It was captivating.
How could anyone leave him?
My hand was pulled from his face as he finished the strap. “You’re drunk. We need to get you back to the hotel.”
“I’m not drunk.” Part of me wanted to let him believe I was; that way he couldn’t hold my words against me. But it was impossible to be drunk on liquor when he looked at me like that.
He stood, ignoring me. I shot up, following him, but my soaked feet slid in my heels—
His hands wrapped around my arms before I could fall. Air escaped me.
His eyes were so blue. Two full moons decorated with thousands of the bluest oceans. They held on to me. Seized me.
His thumb brushed my cheek.
“Kiss me,” I repeated. His breath was heavy against the edge of my lips.
“No.” He stood his ground.
“You want to. I know it. You want me,” I breathed. “Say it.”
His eyes darted to my lips. “I want you.”
His words shot through me like an arrow, satisfyingly hitting a piece of my heart that I didn’t know was still pumping blood. It was a breath of air in what seemed like years of barren cobwebbed corners. So I plunged it deeper by crashing my lips against his.