Page 79 of Saving Ian Pope

“I just want you protected. I don’t want anything to mess up your comeback. You’ve worked too hard for it.” I shrugged out of the beautiful wool cashmere coat that I could not accept and folded it over in the box. “Why is Jessica doing this to you? Why does she hate you so much?”

He ran a hand across his mouth. “I don’t even know if she does. This latest stunt proves she’s after money, and she’s grown desperate to get it. She has a lot of model-influencer friends, and a few of them are doing alright. Jessica’s engagement fell off when we split, but honestly, she doesn’t have the work ethic to make a go of it. She’s too much of a party girl.”

“Did she do drugs and drink when she was with you?”

“No drugs and she didn’t drink as much as I did, but she always wanted to go out—parties, clubs, red carpets, openings. I eventually found it exhausting and decided to get sober. Even if she had agreed to change her lifestyle, I knew it wasn’t going to work out between us. Different interests, different personalities. When I broke it off to enter rehab, I think she believed we’d get back together when I came out. I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen and took off on some travels with a few mates. Then I met you.”

“She seems to have found a will to work when it comes to messing up your life. Why are you so confident you can keep this scandal at bay?”

“I’m not.” He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “But I am confident that it doesn’t matter one way or the other...and you showed me that.”

“Me?” I rotated in his arms, placing my hands on his chest. “Why are you listening to me? I take it all back—whatever I told you.”

“What you said...” he cupped my face with his hand “...was that everything would be okay no matter what happened with the record. When Jack was going on and on, predicting success for the single and the album and the tour dates, you sensed my panic about all the pressure. Then you told me whatever happens is going to be okay, and I feel that now. If I’m the subject of lewd gossip or I get attacked online—none of it matters to me as long as you’re by my side. Are you?”

I buried my nose in his chest and said in a muffled voice, “Always. I love you so much, it hurts.”

And if I inspired him, he inspired me even more. I knew what I had to do to get my life back.

***

The following day, we returned home. We’d spent one more night in the London flat, holding each other and whispering through the night. As usual, Ian opened up more than I did, and it further convinced me that I needed to take care of business in LA so that I could be a worthy partner for him.

When we got home, Scruffy danced around my feet until I picked him up and kissed him on the nose. “Did Sharon take good care of you?” I carried him into the kitchen and checked his water dish. “I’ll play with you outside, later.”

Ian followed me into the house with the coat boxes and placed them in the foyer. “You didn’t even try them all on. Please don’t tell me all my effort lugging them around London was for nothing.”

My gaze darted to the boxes as I set Scruffy on the floor. The last thing I needed right now was for Ian to spend money on me. “The coat I tried on was beautiful, but I recognized those labels, and they’re too expensive. I can’t accept that from you.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “You don’t accept anything from me.”

I spread my arms out and turned around in the middle of the sitting room. “All this and you flew me out here—first class.”

“You’re living with me. Did you expect me to charge you rent?” His phone buzzed, and he scrolled through it. Without looking up, he said, “Besides, I’m sure I owe you loads of money from LA. You wouldn’t let me pay for anything out there.”

I aimed a toe at the boxes. “One of those coats probably costs about six grand. A trip to the La Brea Tar Pits and fish on the pier don’t even come close.”

Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward him and threaded his fingers through my hair as he cupped the back of my head and kissed me. “Please pick out a coat. As we get into winter, it’s only going to get colder here.” He held up his phone. “I hate to abandon you, but I have a lot of work to do to prepare for the release of the lead single and the music video, not to mention taking a few meetings with my label’s solicitors to handle this sex tape.”

“So, you’re going to call her bluff and go on the attack.”

“It’s the only sensible thing to do.” He gave me a little nudge toward the kitchen. “Go get some lunch and stop worrying about my problems.”

“Do you want me to bring you something to eat?” I patted his flat stomach.

“No. I’ll take a break and get some food later.”

Once Ian disappeared into his studio, I unpacked our bags and took Scruffy out back for a run-around. This would be the perfect time to head back to LA for a week, as Ian would be busy planning for the release of “Lost and Found.” If everything went to plan, I could wrap up in a week.

Our relationship seemed to be rushing toward some sort of climax. Sasha and her husband, Jasper, would be back in England soon, bringing Thea with them, and Ian had hinted that he wanted us to meet. So far, I’d put off meeting his family for Sunday dinner, but with the holidays approaching I’d have to make some kind of appearance, although the thought of family terrified me. He kept assuring me they weren’t the Corleones or even the Kardashians, but I’d probably feel more at home with either of those than a normal, unproblematic family like his.

Scruffy finally collapsed at my feet, exhausted, so I tucked him under my arm and brought him inside while I made lunch. Ian hadn’t popped out of his studio once since we got home, and I knew he’d probably emerge, blurry eyed, in time for dinner...or later.

He had a lot to manage and decide, and it made my heart sing to see how much he’d taken charge of his own career. I had a suspicion it hadn’t always been like this for him.

I made sandwiches for us and sliced some apples and pears into a bowl. I carried his food, along with a bottle of sparkling water, to his studio and stood at the door for a second, listening to his low voice rumble on the other side, one of the songs from the album playing in the background.

When he stopped talking, I tapped the bottle against the door before entering. “I figured you’d forget to eat, so I made you some lunch. You can eat it if you like or have it later.”

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