Page 32 of If My Wishes Came True
When he’s done making my coffee, he hands me a steaming hot cup and stands beside me at the windows. I thank him, still in complete shock that I’m in the presence of this man I thought I’d never see again. At least not in person, anyway.
He’s a movie star, after all. His face is everywhere. Even up close, he’s picture perfect, with that chiseled jaw and jet-black hair—and the ocean-blue eyes that remind me so much of Hunter Reed’s.
His name is Grady Brooks. He’s a megastar on par with Dex—although neither actor would appreciate the comparison. According to the media, they have a longstanding rivalry that started early in their careers. They rose to fame around the same time; they were both young and incredibly hot; and they went up against each other for a lot of the same roles. Eventually, Dex was branded as Hollywood’s hero, while Grady took the title of quintessential bad boy. You’d think the tension between the two would have ended there, since they weren’t vying for the same parts anymore. But as far as I know, Dex andGrady are still more frenemies than friends.
“You look good, Jenna,” Grady says, eyeing me up and down. “Haven’t changed a bit since the last time I saw you.”
“Theonlytime you saw me,” I remind him. Grady and I met just once, about three years ago, at a small gathering Dex offered to bring me to, because we’d been hanging out when he got the invitation. There were only ten or eleven people there—all A-list celebrities, except for me. I felt like I was dreaming, especially when Grady Brooks started hitting on me.
“You made quite an impression,” he says, fixing me with his smoldering eyes. The ocean-blue eyes that are so similar to Hunter’s, I have to work hard not to succumb to the shame and guilt that are always bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to drown me. Especially these days, since I met Charlie, and wish more than anything that I could wipe the slate clean to let myself love him.
But thinking about the mess I’m in will do me no good now. I need to keep my wits about me. I’m not sure what Grady wants from me, but I’d be shocked if it were interior design.
“You made quite the first impression, too,” I tell him with a wry smile. “I guess you already know that, considering you used a pseudonym to lure me here.”
He laughs in the lighthearted way that only an obscenely rich, gorgeous Hollywood bad boy would deem appropriate under the circumstances. “Touché,” he says.
When I roll my eyes and take a sip of coffee, though, his movie star grin fades. “Look, I’m sorry if I was out of line that night. You told me you and Dex weren’t a couple, so I figuredyou were giving me the green light to ask you out.”
“You didnotask me out, Grady. You told me you wanted to…um…” My cheeks burn as I look down at the floor.
“Fuck you,” he says without any hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Yes, I remember. You ignored me the rest of the evening. I was heartbroken.”
“Yeah, I could tell from the way you kept looking at me with those sad puppy dog eyes. I guess that usually works for you, huh,” I say, turning back to see an amused look on his face.
“Hey, let’s not forget, you’re the one who gave me your number,” he says, playfully. “Can you blame me for thinking you were interested?”
I scoff. “I gave you my numberbeforeyou propositioned me…and only because you said you might need an interior designer. Had I known you were going to use it to send me dirty texts about all the things you wanted to do to me?—”
“I was drunk.” For the first time, I see an expression that resembles sheepishness on his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Grady, it wasn’t only one time. You texted me for months. I had to block you.”
He lets out a breathy exhale. “Look, I’m not being glib. I actually was drunk most of that time. I had a drinking problem, Jenna.”
I’m quiet for several seconds. “Oh,” I finally say.
“I try to laugh it off, but it almost killed my career,” he goes on. “It ruined most of my personal relationships. I had a lot of amends to make while I was in rehab. I should’ve reached out to you, too.” He sighs. “I’m really sorry.”
There’s something different about his face now. A pretensethat’s melted away. In his eyes, I see genuine pain.
“Okay. I accept your apology,” I say, quietly. “So, um…you’re doing better now?”
He smiles, then pulls a bronze medallion out of his pocket. “One year sober.”
“Congratulations,” I reply with a sincere grin that matches his.
I have another sip of coffee, then take my gaze around his penthouse—or as much as I can see of it from where I’m standing. It looks like something you’d find in the city issue ofHouse & Gardenmagazine. Open and spacious. Simple, yet stunning in its contrast of textures. The combination of supple leather sofas with natural wood tables and glass pendant lighting is undeniably alluring. There’s even an impressive collection of modern art pieces that experiment with color and form. I guess that’s not surprising. Like Grady Brooks himself, the paintings on his walls don’t play by the rules.
“So, why am I really here?” I ask him. “This place is gorgeous. I have a hard time believing you need an interior designer.”
After a deep sigh, he explains. “I fired the last designer because she was trying to gouge me. I know tons of celebrities who sign off on their bills without even looking at them—but I grew up poor, so that shit won’t work on me.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, she was nearly done with everything, but one of the guest rooms never got finished. I saw that tweet from Lola about your design work?—”
“Ah yes, Lola,” I say casually, as though the popstar were alsoa good friend of mine.
“And when I looked you up online and saw that you were in Chicago, I thought to myself—here’s someone I can trust,” Grady continues. “I mean, you’ve been friends with Dex for a long time, so you don’t seem like the type to take advantage of someone’s fame.”
“Of course not,” I say.
