Page 137 of Biggest Player
“Uh-huh.” I cross my arms, not sure where this discussion is headed.
He blows out a puff of air. “So a few weeks ago, I mentioned you on a call with Trent, and he had a bunch of questions about you—and when he found out you were a mom, instead of telling me to block you, he thought it might be a good idea if we started dating.”
For a moment, I was sure I hadn’t heard him right.
A good idea? His agent told him it might be a good idea if we started dating because I’m a mom?
“But . . . we’re already dating.”
Dex crosses his arms and gets comfortable. “What I should say is—he and I had a conversation before you and I started dating, and he thought it would be a good idea.”
I tilt my head.
Brain tries to make sense of his words.
Thought it would be a good idea ... thought it would be a good idea ... thought it would be a good idea ...
“Huh?” I’m lost.
“Part of Trent’s job is to guide me through shit,” Dex rushes to explain as if he’s already regretting telling me this information.
“What kind of shit?”
“I already told you. Relationships. Investing. Appearances. He’s basically my agent and the guy who puts out fires.” Dex leans back on my bed casually, settling into the explanation as if it makes perfect sense. “I don’t know if you know this, but I haven’t always had the best reputation.”
“No. I didn’t know that.”
Never mind the earlier implication he made about being labeled a womanizer. But that was only gossip created for attention, right? Unless I understood him wrong.
“It’s not a big deal to never have a steady relationship, is it? You haven’t had one in a long time, and it’s been the same for me.” He pauses. “If you don’t count the occasional actress or whatever.”
The occasional actress or whatever ...
At least he didn’t say “the occasional supermodel.”
“I thought you were going to say you haven’t had the best reputation because you get into fights or do drugs.” I muster a laugh, but when I catch my reflection in my bathroom mirror, that laugh doesn’t even come close to reaching my eyes.
He holds his hands up. “Ha ha—it’s nothing like that.”
“Say more, please,” I encourage him from the doorway of my bathroom, stuck in my spot.
“My agent, Trent, suggested that if we were seen together”—he points between the two of us, his finger going back and forth—“it could generate some buzz. You know, the whole ‘celebrity romance’ thing.”
Dex uses air quotes when he says the wordscelebrity romanceand confuses me further.
“I’m not a celebrity.”
“I know that, babe.” He smiles sweetly. “But I am.”
I stare at him, trying to school my expression so it’s not one of complete horror and shock as I process the absurdity of what I’m hearing.
“Are you saying Trent wanted you to pretend date me for publicity?”
Dex shakes his head quickly. “Notpretend. Actually date. And I did.”
“Dex,” I say slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Are you telling me that you’re only dating me because your agent thinks it will help your career?”
“I mean—he might have suggested it, but after giving it some thought, I really did want to work things out.”
