Page 14 of The Kissing Part
“We love each other. That means we should be together. I want to be with you forever.”
“But that’s two years away.”
“We’ll keep in touch. You can fly back here and stay with us when you’re not working, and I’ll come out there too. I’ve flown by myself before to visit my grandparents in North Carolina.”
She kisses me. “You’re so sweet. You really want to marry me?”
“I do.” I laugh. “See? I already sound like a groom.”
“We’ll stay in touch.”
“Nothing has to change. This is just a temporary separation.”
She rolls away from me and pulls my arm around her middle. “Hold me just like this. I want to spend the whole night with you.”
I spoon her, loving the way we fit together. “We’ll have to sneak out early in the morning.”
She reaches to the floor and sets an alarm on her phone before snuggling back into my arms. She sighs. “I could get used to this.”
I nuzzle her neck and breathe in her sweet scent. “I love you.”
She turns back to look at me. “I’ll always love you, Owen.”
Euphoria rushes through me. There’s no other word for it. I’m suddenly wired, thinking about the future. Our future. I know we’re young, but I’m sure we can make it work.
But in the hard light of day with Shayla’s bags packed, and Mom ready to drive her to the airport, Shayla barely looks at me when she says goodbye. I get a very bad feeling about this.
5
Present day…
After speaking to the hotel manager of the SoHo Luxe Hotel, I set up a surveillance and alarm system that will tie to Shayla’s and her bodyguard’s phones, as well as the hotel’s security. For now I’m her guard. Shayla’s at work, filming just a few blocks away with Frankie as her guard while I work here. I got in touch with him to be sure all was well.
It’s an interesting hotel, luxury with a vintage feel. The rooms are done in 1970s style, and the common areas downstairs are 1950s style. They’ve made a big effort to make it interesting for creatives. Shayla’s not the first celebrity to stay here. I would’ve preferred a less well-known celebrity hangout. Someplace discreet, like an up-and-coming boutique hotel celebrities haven’t discovered yet.
The penthouse suite is decorated to look like a 1970s artist loft with weathered oak floors and industrial touches like a concrete column in the large living room. I like the furniture. A long sectional sofa with too many pillows, multiple chairs, another smaller sofa. It’s definitely a place meant to relax in with friends. There’s a master bedroom and bath, a guest room with bath, a wet bar, and a terrace just off the living room with a great view of the Empire State Building.
A private-access elevator is already equipped with cameras and a key card activation. The entrance door is steel with a lever lock and key card combo. Later today, the strongest deadbolt lock available will be installed in the door. It’s unbreakable and unpickable. This hotel is accommodating for celebrities’ needs. It’s how they stay in business.
By the end of the day, I’ve got the place wired and ready to go. I glance in the guest room, where I left my suitcase, and wander back to the living room, tempted by the wet bar. Not while I’m on the job. Now that I’ve finished the labor-intensive setup, the hard part starts, and I’m not talking about fighting whoever dares to hurt Shayla, I’m talking about living with the woman I’ve never been able to forget.
I head out of the suite, locking it securely behind me, and walk over to where they’re filming today. It’s a sunny May day in New York, and I relax immediately, being outside. If only it were safe to take Shayla out places, I could limit our roommate situation to just sleeping. I even checked out the viability of staying a floor below hers, but it was fully booked by some visiting dignitary.
A short while later, I give my name to the security guard on set. A production assistant wearing a headset shows up to escort me directly to where Shayla’s filming in front of an Irish pub. She’s in a black halter top exposing her muscled midriff. Wow, she really got ripped for this part. Her costar, Pete Hanson, a guy in his twenties wearing a T-shirt and jeans, is all smiles and charm. Reminds me a bit of my friend Nathan with his dark hair, blue eyes, and granite jaw.
I haven’t seen Shayla acting since she was sixteen. When she moved in with us that summer, I had an instant massive crush and caught up on all her work. This was before she showed an interest in me. I’d been keeping my distance because Harper was with her all the time, and how could I make a move in front of my mouthy sister? Anyway, I’ve purposely avoided all of Shayla’s films since then.
I watch as they film. She’s improved a lot as an actor, and she was good before. There’s a subtlety to her acting now, like she’s learned to be more confident and fully inhabit the role. I know this stuff from Mom, who used to bring us to set when she was acting, and then later when she was producing and directing. She liked to talk shop with me and my siblings. I’m the only one who really listened. Not that it tempted me into the industry. Harper was always the dramatic one. She insisted on forging her own path as a graphic designer. She does a lot of corporate ads. Rafael’s only twenty-two, but already a skilled photographer.
The director calls for another take, and the crew sets up the shot again. Pete moves in to talk to Shayla, making her laugh. I look away, annoyed for no good reason, and spot Frankie nearby.
I head over. “How’s it going? Any Matt sightings?” I ran a full background check on her stalker. This is his first stalker situation. Apparently, he just discovered Shayla’s work and became obsessed. I’d say he was lonely after his divorce, but most people look for someone new to date, not follow around an actor for a role she played eight years ago. He’s thirty, no kids, and works freelance for a computer company. That means we need to pay attention to hacks. As appearances go, he looks like a mild-mannered guy—clean-shaven, short brown hair parted to the side, rectangular black-framed glasses.
“This morning there were a dozen roses waiting for her at the front desk,” Frankie says grimly. “The card said: Katie, I can help you. Call me. He left his number this time, a Seattle area code.” Katie is the name of the runaway character Shayla played when she was seventeen, the one Matt’s obsessed with.
“We should move her.”
“He’s just going to track her down again.”
