50. 50
Iwas a cloud.
I was a cloud, I was on a cloud, I lived in a cloud, and I never wanted to leave.
Those were the winding thoughts drifting through my mind, so blissfully nonsensical, when the pounding on my hotel room door began.
“No,” I said out loud to the empty room.
I had finally, finally been able to crawl into bed—this lovely bed that could rival a cloud—at the very fancy hotel the network had put me up in. My room was gorgeous and decadent, but the best part was the double duvet-covered king-sized bed I was currently cocooned in.
I had no plans to go anywhere, to talk to anyone, or to get out of bed for the foreseeable future.
After we had wrapped last night’s final talk show, Callum and I ended up being driven home together. I’m sure the show’s producers assumed that’s what we would want—driving off into the night together to start our new life.
I was too exhausted to protest and, besides, we still had a cover story to maintain.
So we both climbed into the back of the black sedan, neither one of us saying anything. There was nothing left to say. I was going to my hotel. He was going home. This was it, our final moment together.
When the driver pulled up in front of my hotel, I moved to get out but stopped before I pushed open the door.
I turned back to Callum.
He looked tired, the creases around his eyes more pronounced, as though this whole ordeal had drained the life out of him.
Looking at him, I realized that I did have one more thing to say. One more simple truth to reveal.
“I don’t regret it, what we did. I don’t think I ever will.”
I looked at him for another moment, memorizing his features, taking him in. I’d likely never see him again.
He didn’t say anything back, but for once that was okay. I hadn’t said it for him to reply. I had said it for myself so that I knew I did everything in my power to make our relationship work—that I left it all out there.
And then I turned away, got out of the car, took the elevator up to my fancy, deluxe suite, and climbed under the covers. Sleep, for the first time in days, came easy.
I had planned to be horizontal for most of the week. To not leave the comfort of my hotel room or its divine bed. To wallow and cry. But mainly just to be alone with no one watching or listening.
The pounding knock on my door was an unwelcome interruption to my plan. Dragging myself out of bed, I groaned loudly at the mystery person behind it.
When I swung it open, I was surprised to find Harry and Ben on the other side.
“What are you guys doing here?”
They stepped inside, closing the door behind themselves. They hadn’t said anything yet but exchanged a look. It was one that had a cold sweat forming along my back.
Something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” I asked, already not wanting to know the answer. If it was enough for them both to be here, I knew it would be bad.
Harry stepped forward, grabbing my hand. He led me over to the suite’s sitting room and sat me down on the couch.
“Poppy,” he said.
“Everything’s going to be fine!” Ben cut in, waving his hands in the air as if to emphasize his point.
But I could tell it wasn’t. I looked back to Harry.
“Just tell me.”
He let out a breath before nodding.
“There’s been a leak. In the press.”
“A what?” For a moment I thought I might still be half asleep, as I wasn’t following why what he was saying would have anything to do with me.
“It’s . . . it’s about you and Callum.”
I still didn’t understand what he was getting at, but Harry pressed on as I dumbly blinked at him.
“There was a hot mic, in the green room. At The Late Night Show.”
A heavy beat of silence hung in the air before it all clicked and the pieces of what Harry was saying fit together.
There had been a microphone. Recording. In the dressing room. Where Callum and I had a fight. About faking our relationship.
“But, how . . . ” I said, already knowing it didn’t matter what the answer was.
Harry could only shake his head, so Ben filled in the rest for him.
“A staffer leaked it before the network could do anything. It’s everywhere, Pop. Everyone knows.”
I reached for the hotel room remote and clicked on the TV. Sure enough, there it was.
In big, bold letters, the headline on the morning news read: POPPY AND CALLUM FAKE RELATIONSHIP TO WIN BELLA AMORE.
Well, shit.