Page 74 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

I sighed heavily. “Yes, I swing by for mass on Christmas Eve and grit my teeth throughtamaleson Christmas day. I’ll probably stop by on Easter too. The Catholic guilt is strong. And holidays are safe. Everyone is on their best behavior and less likely to give me those ‘Why are you this way?’ looks or ask after Tony.”

“They liked him, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. He was butch and Latino enough that my folks could overlook the homo part.”

Pierce snort-laughed. “You think they pretended you were friends?”

“Who knows?” I scoffed. “Now my father’s gone back to ignoring me, my mom says the rosary, and my sisters give me condescending ‘Better luck next time’ pats on the back. It’s all very…awkward. I don’t enjoy those visits, but I feel like my grandmother would be disappointed in me if I didn’t show.”

“Even though she’s gone?”

“Yep. I told you…Catholic.”

“Sounds like you have nice friends now.”

“I do, for sure. We don’t see each other as much as we used to, though. A lot of my friends are married or have significant others. The ones who don’t are younger than me and want to party like rock stars. I’m not interested in that anymore. I like quiet nights now. Like this.” I smiled as I leaned into his side.

Pierce kissed the top of my head. “Me too.”

I chuckled. “You look like you enjoy the red-carpet life too. Those photos of you and Daphne at the SAG Awards were sooooo sweet.”

“Fuck off,” he huffed with a laugh. “That was work.”

I waggled my brows and snorted, but he seemed more agitated than amused. “I know. I’m only teasing you.”

Pierce had told me about the awards season date deal he’d made with Seb a month ago. It was all about strategizing and managing image. According to the studio, the public appreciated continuity. Attending major functions with a different date would generate discussion about all the wrong topics. The studio’s current mission was to avoid any negative press. That meant no drunken exploits or rumored affairs with male escorts.

The truth was far less titillating than anyone would guess.

Pierce split his time between the studio, volunteer work, his home gym, and hanging out with me. Oh…and he’d visited Mr. Gowan a couple of times for Scrabble games. Enid had joined us once, but she didn’t like board games and she was likely cognizant of giving Mr. G a chance to get to know his long-lost cousin.

No one knew the truth about Mr. G.

Or me.

Those stories never made headlines, and they never would. Mr. G didn’t want the attention, and I certainly didn’t either. It wasn’t a worry because a hint of romance with a beautiful blond actress…that was interesting.

The fact that Pierce and Daphne hadn’t been spotted anywhere other than the red carpet was also fodder for the gossip mill. Baxter fans were getting curious about Pierce’s personal life again. They’d sympathized with him when his mother passed away and were almost indulgently understanding about his rumored string of partners and nonstop partying ways.

But two high-profile appearances with Daphne seemed to indicate something serious was on the horizon. I had to laugh. I mean, I was “the public” and I would have assumed the same thing.

“It’s exhausting to make small talk with someone you barely know all fucking night,” Pierce griped.

“I bet. So…when’s your next date?”

He cast a miffed glance my way. “The Academy Awards.”

“Ooh, la la!”

“Yeah, I’m presenting, so it’s…kind of an honor too.”

“Definitely.”

He removed his arm from around my shoulder to take a sip of hot chocolate, then made a mini production of screwing the lid on with his gaze fixed forward. “I wish it was you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. “This is nice too.”

Pierce smiled. “Yeah, it is. I really fucking like you, want you, need you.”