Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl: A Surprise Pregnancy Romantic Comedy Page 21

  “I don’t want anyone else standing beside you anymore,” he says earnestly and squeezes my fingers. “I want to stand up as the father of our baby, and I want to do it beside you. If you need a fiancé for your image or whatever bullshit your people think is important, I want it to be me.”

  My breath catches and holds in my chest as I try to make sense of what he’s saying.

  “I want to be your fiancé,” he says, and my heart damn near jumps into my throat. My eyes hop on the surprise train and go wider than my pregnant hips.

  Wait…what? Is he saying he wants to marry—

  “What I mean is…” Harrison pauses for the briefest of seconds, searching my gaze before continuing with, “What I’m trying to say is I can be just as good of a fake fiancé as that guy. Hell, I can be better.”

  Oh.

  My chest pops and deflates with laughable swiftness.

  Unable to come up with anything other than the bumble of an overwhelmed idiot, I nod. I don’t know if I’m agreeing or confirming or what; all I know is that, in this current moment, it’s all I can seem to do.

  A flash of heat runs from my head to my toes and back up again to the obvious pressure of his fingers against my own. What felt fantastic only a moment ago feels claustrophobic now, and I have no choice but to separate my hands from his as politely as possible.

  Forcing a gulp of fresh air down my throat, I avoid the enchanted forest of his gaze as he apologizes again.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry I—”

  “It’s fine,” I cut him off. “Really. I’m just hot.” I turn one hand into a fan to illustrate my point and wave feverishly at my face. His features melt into a pile of concern.

  “You okay? You want to sit down?”

  “No,” I refuse. “I just…I need a drink of water, I think.”

  He nods, turning around swiftly and stealing a bottle of water out of the hand of the first person he comes to.

  “Hey,” the stranger shouts, but Harrison pays him no mind as he comes back to me with the bottle, cracks the seal, and hands it to me to take a drink.

  I do without hesitation. I’m pretty sure this theater has suddenly moved locations to the surface of the fucking sun.

  “Is your dress too tight? Need me to loosen it?”

  I laugh harshly. “This is the fat dress, Harrison. It’s already been loosened.”

  He frowns. “I don’t know if you realize this, but you’re growing a baby, Rocky. He or she is getting bigger by the day, and they need space. That’s why you’re getting bigger. To give them space. Not because you’re getting fatter.”

  I nod. I do know that. Really, I do.

  Hollywood just doesn’t always make it entirely easy to accept. I’m already dreading the pace at which I’m going to have to work to “get my body back” in a timeline that won’t garner any extra attention or ridicule.

  I can’t catch my breath as the consequences of everything that’s happened in the last five minutes flash before my eyes. I can feel the world and their questions closing in around me, and I grasp at my chest to try to claw away the skin and bone so I can get some air in.

  “Rocky, breathe,” Harrison says reassuringly, rubbing a hand up and down my back. I jump away from it, unable to stand any contact at all at this point.

  Oh God, am I having a panic attack? Is this what it feels like?

  I scratch at my throat and gulp for air as Harrison walks around me, tilts my chin up with a finger, and holds my eyes directly. “Rocky, look at me. Look at me,” he commands. “Breathe. Nice and slow, a normal, shallow breath. Don’t try to suck in all the air in the room.”

  I shake my head. I need it. I need all the air.

  He steadies me with two hands on each side of my neck and holds my eyes with his own. “Breathe with me, okay?”

  I watch his mouth as he inhales two short beats and exhales the same shortly after. I mimic his count and focus on doing exactly what he does.

  After a full minute of doing nothing but breathing to his rhythm, I finally convince myself I’m not dying enough to calm down.

  The door bursts open, and Ben comes charging toward us, frustration and anger clear on his face. Harrison reacts swiftly, gently but commandingly moving my body behind his and stepping up directly to Ben’s challenge.

  Ben’s voice is rough and accusing as he points a disrespectful finger in Harrison’s face. “What the fuck was that? Get a sudden hankering for fifteen seconds of fame?”

  Harrison doesn’t budge—doesn’t blink. Instead, he snorts derisively. He is twenty feet tall, so sure of himself, and I’m as small as a mouse. I hate to even admit it, but I can feel myself sinking into the carpet animatedly. Why is it that I feel any sort of shame or guilt or responsibility at all? It’s not as though I did anything other than trip.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Harrison asks through an incredulous laugh. “You are accusing me of being a whore for fame? Your inability to look away from the camera for a goddamn second is the reason I had to step up in the first place. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let Rocky fall and hurt herself because of your vanity,” Harrison challenges swiftly.

  “Guys,” I interject meekly. Neither one acknowledges me, and I can’t even fault them for it. Where the hell is my voice?

  “I should have you thrown out of here,” Ben threatens, and I have to roll my eyes. Dear God, that’s the best taunt he’s got? He might as well have told Harrison he was going to tell his mommy on him. Luca had stronger comebacks at nine years old, for Pete’s sake.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Harrison states firmly. “Not tonight, not in the next two weeks, not ever. If that’s too much for you, maybe you should just move on to pretending with someone else.”

  “Fucking hell!” Ben throws his perfectly manicured hands up in the air. “I don’t need this shit!”

  Heidi bursts through the doors next, making sure to secure them behind herself and pull me handily around the corner before saying a word.

  Harrison notices the semi-rough nature of her hold on me and leaves Ben without a word.

  Ben, the puppy dog at a loss for something better to do, follows too.

  “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but—”

  “Heidi, stop!” I cut in, my voice suddenly emboldened in a way that’s been missing. “Just stop. I realize we’re going to have a lengthy discussion about many, many things, but can we please just get through the night first? I have to go in there. I have to present an award, and I’m nominated for another. I refuse to spend the next twenty minutes back here picking over an event I cannot change.”

  Heidi raises an eyebrow but, surprisingly, nods. Apparently, I’ve done a good enough job of making my point that we don’t have to have a WWE wrestling match right here in the lobby of the Dolby Theatre.

  Thank everything.

  Now, I just have to get through this night without my damn head exploding from all the overwhelming thoughts and questions and feelings rolling around inside my brain.

  Yeah… Ha! Considering all that shit stems from the fact that you’re hiding your true feelings about a certain baby daddy, my subconscious laughs in my face. Good luck with that, Raquel.

  Fucking hell.

  Harrison

  I don’t need moves like Jagger; I need moves like Reeves.

  I didn’t sleep much last night; instead, I stayed up well into the morning hours studying my old DVD of The Matrix, making note of all of Keanu’s best moves.

  Okay, so that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but the reality of my situation is that I’m about to face one hell of a shitstorm. All mostly courtesy of one stank-faced, shrew of a Hollywood manager.

  I raise a hand to the surface of Rocky’s apartment door, and after one swift, deep breath, put my knuckles against it in a confident knock. I even almost mean it.

  The truth is, I know I did the right thing last night. There’s no way in hell I would be able to look myself in th
e mirror if I’d let Rocky fall—especially if she’d gotten hurt or something had happened to the baby as a result. But even more than that, I know this whole Hollywood song and dance and fake fiancé façade hasn’t been making Rocky happy.

  That fake fiancé bullshit is also not making you happy…

  Truth is, last night, I put the cart a little before the horse, and doing that always has some sort of consequences. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I could step out onto the red carpet next to one of the most famous women in the world when I wasn’t supposed to and not cause shock waves.

  My actions have gone viral, something I wish wasn’t reality, and the texts from my friends—in a brand-new group chat they created just for the big, shock-worthy moment that occurred last night—were enough to make me turn off my phone.

  Cap: Bold move, buddy. You know I rarely say this—especially to you—but I’m impressed by your efforts. Keep up the good work, and maybe Raquel Weaver won’t notice that she’s entirely too good for you.

  Georgia: God, talk about a swoony moment! Kline won’t stop talking about it.

  Kline: I haven’t been talking about it.

  Thatch: Brooooo. Impressive showing of dick size.

  Quince: As you know, I’m not one for gossip, but that was a pretty major move. You look good together, btw.

  Cassie: Holy fluffing hell, Harry! Way to whip your dick out! Good thing Prince Harry has stepped down as an official royal, or I might start to get the two of you confused! PS. Thatcher is totally jealous of all the attention you’re getting right now.

  Lena: You swoony bastard. I guess you’re really over me, huh? ;)

  Theo: Just texting you to tell you I deleted your number from Lena’s phone.

  Greer: I’d say I’m impressed, but I’m withholding judgment until I can assess further. Don’t let me down.

  Emory: Thank you for this. I was starting to think I needed to get pregnant again, but now I realize I was just bored. You fixed it.

  Cap: This is Ruby. Cap stole my phone before I could text you personally. Badass. Maybe even more so than Cap forming a book club about me.

  Cap: This is Ruby again. I didn’t mean that last part. Cap is the most badass in all the land.

  Cap: This is REALLY Ruby again. Cap wrestled the phone from my hands.

  Cap: False.

  There were probably other messages, but I couldn’t handle reading any more after that. It was too poignant a showing of the real extent of what I’d done and the splash it was making in the world.

  And I’m a nobody. I can’t even imagine what Rocky’s been going through—and thanks to being sent home last night without being able to talk to her, I haven’t had the chance to hear from her myself.

  I tried. Trust me, I tried.

  I even sent her text messages trying to convince her to talk me via the promise of making a late-night Taco Bell run.

  But she never responded, and now, I don’t know what the fuck to do or what I’m going to face in the next five minutes.

  When the door swings open, I am greeted by stank-face’s scowl. Luckily, Rocky is poised right behind her and grabs me by the arm as soon as I’m within reach. I have to power walk to keep up as she drags me into the apartment and shoves me down on the couch before taking a seat beside me.

  There are at least a dozen sets of eyes on me—all narrowed and pissed off—but I ignore them all for the purpose of checking on the one person I actually care about.

  I turn to Rocky purposefully and squeeze her hand to get her to look at me. She does, a tiny curve in her mouth making me smile.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nods reassuringly. “I am. I’m really sorry I didn’t get to talk to you last night. I didn’t want you to think I was mad at you.”

  I wave her off.

  “It’s just been a little crazy.”

  I nod. “Have you slept at all?”

  “Me?” she asks with a snort. “Oh yeah. I barely got my shoes off before I passed out.”

  Her response makes me smile. “I guess that makes sense why even a promise of a taco delivery didn’t spur a message from you.”

  Her eyes light up at my words. “You were going to bring me chicken soft tacos last night?”

  “Well, I was going to bring them for the baby. I mean, he was the one who was actually craving them, right?” I tease, and she snorts.

  “Pretty sure you mean she.”

  I relax into the enjoyable banter I’m coming to know as ours, all the tension that was buried deep in my neck and shoulders releasing with surprising ease. “So…tacos aside, everything going okay?”

  “As good as can be expected, I guess.” She shrugs. “Heidi and the minions have been hard at work all night, though.”

  I chuckle. “The minions.”

  “Yep. I haven’t really been able to understand a word they’ve said, their voices are so high, and they’re scurrying around wildly. It seemed fitting.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not sure. They haven’t actually spoken directly to me about it yet.”

  My eyebrows draw together. “Shouldn’t you be a part of the discussion?”

  “You’d think. But that’s not usually how these things work.”

  That’s fucking ridiculous. This is her life. Her job. Her decision.

  I grab her hand as I stand from the couch and pull her up carefully. She looks at me questioningly, but I just can’t hold my tongue on this. Maybe I should, I don’t know, but I’m tired of watching her sit here like a passenger when she should be flying the damn ship.

  “Excuse me,” I say, calling the attention of everyone in the room as I walk us up to the circle. They all just stare at me, and the nature of their gazes is not all friendly. But I don’t let that make me falter.

  “As you’re discussing Raquel’s life—and at least, in part, mine—I think we should be a part of the conversation. Don’t you?”

  Heidi snorts with derision. “I think you’ve done just about enough.”

  “Funny thing, that,” I say. “I’m a part of this, whether you like it or not. I’m in it.”

  Heidi stands to full height and cocks a hip to the side as her minions look on in wonder. I ready myself to go to battle, but she’s way below her pay grade when it comes to this performance. She just sings the same old song, over and over.

  “You have no idea of the ramifications you’ve created,” she spits. “You can’t just step in as the white knight now while everyone looks the other way about the relationship with Ben we created—”

  “You created,” I emphasize. “This isn’t a real relationship I’ve ruined. It was a farce from the beginning, and the hero you picked for your story was doing a shitty fucking job.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “Excuse me?”

  “Did you even pay attention to the way he treated her out there? He could have been standing next to a wax figure for all he cared about Rocky. She was his accessory, like a goddamn purse or a watch or a fucking umbrella, and that’s it.”

  “And now you want her to be yours,” Heidi says with derision.

  “No,” I correct swiftly. “I’ll be hers.” Rocky’s head jerks to mine as Heidi’s eyebrows pull together. “She doesn’t need some shitstain man-child pretending to be better than her. She’s a star all on her own. You saw her onstage. She’s fucking brilliant, and the whole world would eat right out of her hand if she offered it. That’s why she won. That’s why she’ll keep winning. All this personal shit is just the baggage.”

  “She won that award for her talent, yes, but you have no idea how much all of this other stuff, as you’d describe it, goes into it. There’s no way in hell the Academy would have given her that award if this nightmare had happened two weeks ago. It would have ruined it for her. Just like that. One fell swoop in by her knight in shining armor.”

  I roll my eyes and turn to Rocky. “You’re not believing this shit, are you, Rock? You deserved t
hat award, and no actions by me or anybody else would have changed that.”

  Rocky frowns, worrying her lip and then licking it. I’m about to open my mouth again when she takes me by the hand and pulls me out of the main living room with everyone else and straight into her bedroom.

  She shuts the door behind us and drags me over to the bed, where she pushes me to sitting. I grab her hand and tug her down beside me. She’s the one who needs to get off her feet, not me.

  When she doesn’t speak immediately, I feel the need to apologize.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyebrows draw together, but I keep going.

  “I’m really sorry for making this harder on you than it already was, Rock. I know you didn’t plan this any more than I did. I know you had things going on—important, great things. I don’t want to get in the way of any of that, and if inserting myself into everything is too much—”

  She shakes her head and squeezes my hands. “I’m worried about you, Harrison. Not me. Everything you’re getting yourself into. I don’t know if you really have any idea how cruel they can be.”

  “I’ve been watching you for weeks now, Rock. And I grew up in a house that contained the cruelest-worded, always critical man. I’m not scared of anything a group of strangers can bring my way.”

  “They’re going to attack you personally and go after your family—”

  “Family’s all dead, Rock. You and the baby—and my friends—are the only family I have left, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything I can to be there for it every day of my life.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “But nothing, baby. This is it. The beginning of the end.”

  “So, you really want to do this?” she asks, her voice small. “You want to be the man standing beside me at all the awards shows and events and all the other bullshit that revolves around Hollywood?”

  Truthfully, I want to be a hell of a lot more than that, but I’m trying not to put the cart before the horse this time.