Chapter Thirty-Seven
JAYCE
Jayce laced his fingers through CeCe’s, relishing the closeness of their entwined hands as they strode up from the beach onto Main Street. It took all his self-control not to announce the good news to the first person he saw.
He’d proposed to his dream girl, and she’d actually said yes! He still couldn’t believe it. A luckier guy had never lived, and nothing could dampen his good mood.
Ugh . Spoke too soon . His cheerful optimism faltered the second he spotted Gretchen seated at a patio table in front of the café.
“Hey, Gretchen. To what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked dryly.
“You weren’t at the award ceremony last night.” Her sharp, accusatory tone popped his blissful bubble. This clearly wasn’t a social call.
He sighed. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“Are you also aware that your failure to attend puts you in breach of contract?” She stood, her unnaturally flawless features puckered in a disapproving scowl.
“I left a voicemail explaining the extenuating circumstances.” He’d called Stacey and Victor, too. Stacey had been quick to support his decision, and Victor, to his surprise, had also been understanding. He’d even told him to email the script as soon as he had a chance.
Comparing their compassion to Gretchen’s coldness, he added with thinly veiled irritation, “CeCe’s dad is fine, by the way.”
She dismissed his comment. “I don’t care if you were the one trapped six feet under. I’d still expect you to attend one of the most crucial PR events of the year, even if you had to dig your way out with a plastic spoon.”
He bristled. “Come on, Gretchen. That’s a little callous considering what CeCe and her family have been through.
” He glanced down at CeCe, who’d stiffened by his side.
Her strained expression said it all. If she gave in to her baser instincts, Gretchen would be the recipient of a hard jab to the nose.
Lucky for his agent, CeCe had self-restraint.
“Well, Jayce. Since you mentioned your fiancée ,” Gretchen snarled, somehow managing to make the endearing title sound like a dirty word. “I think it’s time we face facts. This little experiment has run its course, don’t you think?”
“Experiment?” What was she talking about?
“Fling. Fetish. Whatever you want to call this anomaly.” She gestured to CeCe as if drawing his attention to a wad of gum on the bottom of his shoe. “You’re not seriously going to marry this PR nightmare, are you?”
At her nasty comment, the irritation simmering below the surface boiled into full blown outrage. His jaw clenched. “What did you say?” he growled, daring her to repeat herself.
She took an instinctive step backward, startled by the flash of anger in his eyes. No more Mr. Congeniality . “I—I just think everyone will be better off if we—”
“There is no we , Gretchen. My personal life has nothing to do with you. The woman I choose as my wife has nothing to do with you. And frankly”—he gathered a galvanizing breath—“I no longer want anything to do with you.”
“Excuse me?” She blinked, her eyes wide and questioning, as if she’d misheard.
“Don’t look so surprised. You’ve done nothing but insult CeCe since the day you met.
Which not only reveals your lack of character, but your lack of judgment, too.
CeCe is the kindest, most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and if you can’t show her the respect she deserves, then I can’t work with you. ”
There was no misunderstanding now. He’d made his stance abundantly clear. Gretchen glowered. “We have a contract.”
“Yes, we do. With a fairly detailed morality clause that I’m sure a few talented lawyers could prove you’ve violated. More than once.”
“Oh, please,” Gretchen scoffed. “You’re bluffing. You’re not going to fire me. You wouldn’t have an ounce of success without me.”
“Maybe not. But I’ve been thinking about a career change anyway.”
“To what? Don’t tell me it’s screenwriting.” She actually laughed.
CeCe squeezed his hand as if to say, Don’t let her get to you.
“It’s none of your business. As of this moment, you’re no longer my agent.” The decision filled him with surprising relief. He should’ve cut her loose years ago.
“Fine.” The single syllable slithered off her tongue. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He immediately regretted taking the bait.
“Jayce, darling,” she said with an ominous lilt. “You know I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. In a town this small, it will take me two seconds to dig up dirt on you and your precious fiancée.”
“Good luck,” he grunted. But even as he said the words, a cold feeling of dread swept over him.
“Everyone has a secret.” She slid her purse over one arm. “And I’m going to have fun finding yours.” With a vicious smirk, she made her dramatic exit.
“That can’t be good,” CeCe whispered, putting words to his own apprehension.
He’d not only poked the bear, he’d served himself on a silver platter.