Page 141 of The Sun & Her Burn

Adam’s and Linnea’s laughter twinned together like a gorgeous orchestra, lovelier than any of the classic music Savannah had played so often in the Rolls-Royce.

“Oh, I think we can manage that,” Adam agreed, wrapping his arms around us both in a hug from behind that made my heart soar. “Anything for our marvellously talented screenwriter and award-winning actor.”

“Anything,” Linnea agreed.

And honestly, I thought they meant it, at least in the moment.

In the weeksince Linnea and I had confronted Adam at Bacchanalia, I had been living a dream. Oh, it wasn’t the impossible universe Adam and I had once spoken of, but it was so close I could find no fault in the ways it wasn’t perfect.

I basically moved into Adam’s Carbon Beach house with Linnea, keeping most of my things in Adam’s closet alongside his own and some of Linnea’s, even though she had her own bedroom and wardrobe across the hall.

The Critics Choice Awards arrived the day after our reckoning, and while I got ready for the event with Adam and then got to see the vision he and Linnea cut together in his midnight blue suit and her violet-blue gown, I was left to take my own limo to the event and then walk the carpet alone.

I was seated at a different table from them, with cast members fromWaking NightmareI should have been happy to spend time with after so long apart. Instead, I found myself sneaking looks across the room at the future Meyers all night.

Linnea made Adam laugh often, which soothed some of the ruffled feathers. He had told me a long time ago that he never liked award shows. Their pomp and circumstance were too inauthentic and self-aggrandizing for the upper crust, former military Brit, so he bore them with an inner stoicism and facade of charm that got him through most of his life without issue.

It made me happy to see Linnea charming him out of his shell as easily as she seemed to captivate everyone else at their table, including the infamously irascible older actor, Bob Granger, who, at one point, seemed to be having his palm read by my girl.

“You seem distracted,” my co-star fromWaking Nightmare, Winona Kelly, leaned in to murmur to me.

She was shockingly gorgeous, with black hair and pale blue eyes that made her even more striking against her lovely pale skin. We had slept together once or twice before co-starring together, but she had since married a famous boxer who scowled at me from her other side as she got a little too close.

I shot him an innocent grin.

“Girl trouble?” she continued, waving off her husband as if he weren’t a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound brick wall with a serious glower. “Please don’t tell me it’s Savannah Richardson.”

I barked out a laugh, surprised by her comment. “Is it such an open secret I had feelings for her?”

“Had?” she pressed, thin brows raised. “Good riddance. That woman is as cold as the sunkenTitanic.”

I laughed again as I shook my head. “You know, I should introduce you to Linnea Kai, I think you would be fast friends.”

“Oh? The new girl on the block dating Adam Meyers? She’s everywhere in the media right now, poor thing. Did you see the mess with her mother?”

“I was there,” I said, my voice freezing so she would understand I was not about to gossip about it. “Linnea is one of my oldest friends.”

“Interesting. Did you set them up?”

I studied her for a beat too long, so she laughed, opening her hands innocently. “You know I’m not going to do anything with the information, Seb. I’m just being nosy because I’m Welsh. I grew up in a village where everyone knew everyone.”

“I guess Hollywood isn’t that different,” I quipped.

She grinned. “No, it isn’t. In any case, it’s nice to see Adam smile. I’d almost forgotten how handsome he can be when he isn’t frowning.”

I had been happy when we were interrupted by Andrea, who took me to the bar during a commercial break to talk with a few bigwigs about optioningThe Dream & The Dreamer. Hightower Studies and its head, Damien Rivens, were interested but dragging their heels finding space for the film on their roster.

Tate Richardson caught me on the way to the bathroom during another break, cornering me with a knitted brow and a thick finger pointed at my face.

“Seb, my boy, what is this I hear about you shopping a new script around town to everyone but me? I would be hurt if I wasn’t so sure this had to be some kind of mix-up.”

I fought the urge to wince. No matter how complicated my feelings were for his wife, I liked Tate. He was an uncomplicated man who had taken me into his life not just because Savannah had asked him to do so, but because he genuinely seemed to enjoy my company.

“I did give the script to Savannah,” I said carefully. “But I didn’t think it would be a good fit for you.”

“Anything written by you is a good fit for us,” he insisted, clamping a meaty hand on my shoulder. “You’re practically family, Sebastian, come now. I expect you to email me a copy tomorrow before noon. You’ll give us a fair crack at it just like anyone else, I’m sure.”

“We do have interest from a few studios,” I admitted. “It could get expensive.”