Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I recognize that name.
Tamryn Clarke is a singer slash actress slash influencer with millions of followers who is probably more famous than Dex is. I wonder what his agent is going on about. Is he trying to set them up on a date? How can he do that when Dex is dating me? Why would Trent even mention her?
What is Dex pulling the plug on? The fun?
By fun does he mean . . . me? I’m so confused but try to stay occupied, keeping one ear on the conversation.
“I’m not interested in the Goldie Awards with Tamryn.” He pauses. “Look, Trent, let’s drop this. Now is not a good time.”
There’s a brief silence, and I can almost feel the tension in the room. His agent seems to pick up on it too.
“Ahh, I get it now. You’re in the room with her.”
Dex says nothing—only stares into the phone, eyes hard.
“Noted.” His agent laughs. “We’ll talk later. Keep me posted, will ya, buddy?”
“Will do,” Dex replies curtly before ending the call.
Then.
He sits for a moment staring down at his phone, a mix of frustration and exhaustion on his face. Like he’s afraid to lift his gaze and meet mine; like he has no idea what to do besides clear his throat.
I step out of the bathroom, toner in my hand, not sure what to say to him. “Everything okay?”
He looks up. “Yeah, just . . . football stuff.”
It did not sound like football stuff. “Tamryn Clarke is work related?”
He gives a jerky nod. “Yes.” Shakes his head. “No, she’s not. I meant that was my agent.”
“I know that was your agent. I could hear him rather clearly.” Unfortunately. I lean on the doorjamb, watching him curiously, waiting for him to say more. “Explain to me what he was talking about. Please.”
“Sorry you had to hear that.”
“Sorry I had to hear what? Which part?”
He inhales, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. It sticks up this way and that, looking utterly freaking adorable. He is so cute . . .
“I know we had a rough afternoon—and the last thing I want to do is make it worse.”
“My ex was here posturing, remember? You won’t ruin our day.” Not if you’re honest with me.
Dex’s laugh is rueful. “Don’t be so sure—you haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”
“Does this have to do with your agent?”
“Yes. It’s about a conversation we had a few weeks ago.”
“Oh?” I know nothing about agents, other than contract negotiations. I have a feeling I’m about to get a crash course in the intricacies of agents’ involvement in their clients’ personal lives.
“One of the things most people don’t understand is PR relationships.” When I look confused, he goes on. “A PR relationship is when a couple is set up by their public relations people because it’s good for their career to be seen together—not because they’re in an actual relationship.”
“Ah.” I nod. “Makes sense.” Sort of.
“I’ve had a bunch of those, mostly ’cause I’m lazy,” Dex explains. “And I figured if I met someone in the industry or someone in the spotlight, it would make it hella easier ’cause they already know how this shit works.” He scratches his pants with the nail of his index finger. “Turns out, it doesn’t—it mostly makes it worse.”
I don’t ask him to expand on what he means by that.
“And as you know, when we met on Kissmet, I hadn’t wanted . . .” He hesitates, breezily waving a hand through the air. “To date someone with a kid.”
“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.”