“I’m talking about the woman who’s suing me for breach of contract and the guy who assaulted my fiancée being on this junket. Now answer the question. Did you know about this?”

“I, well, I found out a couple of days ago that Lauren signed on with Marla’s company, but I thought she’d give the account to an underling. How was I supposed to know she’d be here?”

Ryan groaned in frustration. “This puts me in a compromising situation, David, both physically and financially, and that’s not good.”

“Okay, I should have told you that Lauren hired Marla’s PR company, but I didn’t think it would matter.”

“Well, it does,” Ryan snapped. “You know she’s contesting the revised settlement I paid her, saying I owe her more money. You could have given me a heads-up. It’s getting to be that I can’t trust you anymore.” David looked offended. “Ryan, don’t say that. I’ve always had your best interests at heart.”

“Is that why you took it upon yourself to have Len draft up a prenup?”

“Yes, I did. We have monies coming in that need to be protected.”

“From who?” Ryan yelled. “She won’t even use my money to put fucking gas in her car.

The only one spending my money is you. I know what’s written in my contract, David.

You worried I’d screw you out of wedding photo royalties?”

David held his hands up in surrender. “I’d never do that and it’s a damn shame that you think that way. Hey, you want to risk half your money on a girl that you’ll divorce eventually, that’s on you.”

Ryan was livid. “That’s the difference between you and me, David. After this press tour is over, I think we need to go our separate ways.”

David clutched Ryan’s forearm. “Hang on, buddy. Let’s not take this there again.”

Ryan glared at David’s hand. “You best remove that hand and walk away. I’m not playing anymore.”

I kept my eye on Lauren instead of celebrating David’s dismissal. She seemed overly giddy and bubbly, as if she were enjoying watching us squirm.

Bring it, bitch. You’re next.

I straightened Ryan’s necktie before we arrived at the Manhattan premiere of Thousand Miles. I was glad he wore the black Hugo Boss suit with the purple and black paisley necktie that matched the color of my cocktail dress.

He ran his finger over the gathered material on the bodice of my dress and then over my beautiful diamond wreath necklace. “You look extraordinary.”

Ryan’s appreciation for me never faltered.

I hoped I’d never take how lucky I am for granted. “You are quite the package yourself.”

Attending my second movie premiere wasn’t as frightening as it was the first time but the huge crowd and flurry of aggressive photographers was enough to make me quake in my stilettos. The flashes of hundreds of cameras, the roar of the crowd screaming for me to look their way . . . it was all beyond surreal.

I had to give Lauren and Ryan credit; both were exceptional actors, putting on a believable show of friendship and solidarity for the crowd and cameras. They had come to an agreement earlier that they’d be on their best behavior while out in public. Privately, however, Ryan had no use for her. He assured me that he’d never work with her again. Ryan wasn’t big on forgiveness, especially where my best interests were concerned, and he told her so.

As soon as the screening was over, we were whisked away to the lavish after-party in the ballroom at the Gramercy Park Hotel.

Fortunately, Ryan had stipulated that his security team go with him wherever he had to go, which meant that I had Marie close by for moral support.

She walked with me toward the open bar while Ryan was in deep conversation with the film’s cinematographer. She glanced at me with weary eyes. “Taryn, I hate to say it, but that movie was awesome.” I found an open area of couches and chairs and sat down. “Yeah, it was. Ryan was fabulous again. But there were a few parts that were difficult for me to watch.” The dinner scene where I thought Ryan was on an actual date with Lauren in Miami made my chest burn. I recalled that Ryan had squeezed my hand tightly during that part.

He remembered, just as I did, what happened outside the restaurant that night—the night when I had left him.

And just as Ryan’s character leaned over the linen-covered table to kiss Lauren on the screen, Ryan wrapped his arm over my shoulders, taking my face in his hand, and kissed me so passionately I wanted to cry tears of happiness. He didn’t want me to watch them. It wasn’t part of our reality. His mouth on mine, his hand clutching my cheek, his love for me—that was what was real.