Beautiful Storm (San Francisco End Game #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Amelia

This might be an exact repeat of an earlier entry but… Fuck.

We what ?

My seatbelt flings back as my gaze snaps to Luke, waiting for him to burst out laughing. One, two, three seconds pass and he doesn’t so much as smile, making me panic. “I… You… Tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“I’m not joking.”

What in the world? I take a deep breath as he stares at me in challenge, and while my instincts scream at me to tell him to fuck off, there’s a small part of me that needs to know his thoughts, otherwise it will drive me crazy thinking about it.

“Okay. I’ll hear you out. Why?”

Luke smiles but it’s not his usual cocky grin, and my insides churn because of it. I glance away, uncomfortable, and lock eyes on the photos in my lap. Our baby. My heart clenches as a small smile pulls at my lips.

I’d walked out of the ultrasound with my mind blown, my heart full, and these photos in my hand. Photos I could have spent hours gazing at no matter how hard it was to believe there was a tiny human growing inside me. After the initial awe, I couldn’t shut up with my reactions, gasping, oohing, and aahing any chance I got. Luke, on the other hand, hadn’t said a word since the heartbeat, leading me to imagine so many crazy theories in my mind—he was freaked-out, he changed his mind, we broke him. But no, he had other things rolling around in his head.

A goddamn marriage proposal.

What?

He’s silent again as I clear my thoughts, and when I glance back his way, he’s staring at me.

“I need you to pay attention,” he says slowly, probably worried about startling me, and he should be. I’m ready to run away screaming.

Instead, I smile. “I’m all ears.”

“Good.” He nods. “That ultrasound wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be considering how run-down the building was.” He rolls his eyes as though it was awful, but rather than snapping at him, I let him continue. “And Jill was nice and all—maybe a little too bubbly—but the thing is, I’m not waiting another ten weeks to see our baby again. And I’m not leaving the delivery to chance based on whatever hospital we can get on your insurance. I want to know the doctor I’m trusting with my child. I want all the bells and whistles…and I want to be able to arrive at a building and not stress because it looks like it’s about to fall down.”

“Wow. Look at you and your firm grip on reality.” Sarcasm is better than anger, right? Because I’d much rather be angry.

“I’ve got the means, Amelia. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. I told you. Nothing but the best for my child.”

“ Our child.”

“Nothing but the best for our child.”

I’m not sure what to say next, but his calm and serious demeanor is freaking me out. He wants to get married? The guy that undoubtedly left a naked woman in his bed to meet me here…wants to marry me.

My mind whirs as he leans his shoulder against the backrest of his seat and he angles his body to face me, making sure I know he’s completely in this. Giving me his full attention. Telling me this conversation is important to him. His dark eyes bore into mine as he waits patiently, perhaps hoping I’m going to catch up with this thought process, while I’m still a long way behind.

“And you think that if we get married, we can use your insurance?” I ask slowly. That much I gathered, otherwise, this makes less sense.

“ Yes ,” he practically cheers as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve researched it. And while I may not be able to change your insurance without waiting periods, I can change mine.” Jesus . He’s really thought this through. Here I was thinking he was randomly throwing the idea out there. “If we do it now,” he continues, “we can have the full gold class service before you’re halfway.”

Gold class service? God, as nice as whatever that is sounds, he’s crazy. We can’t get married.

“I’ve survived perfectly fine without riches and so have you. I’d never let anything happen to our baby regardless of money. This isn’t a good idea.”

“Why?”

“So. Many. Reasons.” But let’s skip the obvious ones—how much we can’t stand each other—and instead go with the most important. “For one, I’m not breaking the law.”

Luke’s brows furrow. “Who’s breaking the law?”

“We would be. You know…by pretending to be married.” I whisper the last part in case someone overhears us, making Luke chuckle.

He leans in conspiratorially. “Again. Who’s pretending? For it to work, we’d actually have to be married, Joy .” He throws out my nickname as though I’m ruining his fun and he’s right. I’m not going to make this easy. I can’t. “We’d make it official,” he adds. “That’s not breaking the law.”

He doesn’t get it. “It would still be fake. Marriages are supposed to be about love, and surely this isn’t new information for you when I say there is no love here.”

“Come on, Amelia. Arranged marriages happen all the time. Where’s that love?”

Dammit . He has a point, but… “I still think it’s a bad idea. I’m not even divorced yet.”

“For fuck’s sake.” For the first time since starting this conversation, a hint of his frustration slips through Luke’s facade. “I’ll fix that too.”

“Money doesn’t fix everything.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it can fix this .”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the situation.”

“You are. You’re the one stopping this.”

“And you’re an asshole.”

“I thought we established that was never in question.”

I pause, running out of excuses. This is insane. I just walked away from my marriage; the last thing I want to do is fall into another one.

“I’m not marrying you.”

I can’t, can I?

“Don’t be so selfish. This is the perfect solution to all my worries.”

“Your worries. Not mine.”

“You’d seriously turn this down because of your feelings toward me? What if something happens? You’ll never forgive yourself for not having better care.”

“ Jesus , Luke. Don’t say stuff like that.” My heart races now that he’s put that idea in my head.

“Marry me and you won’t have to worry.”

“Luke—”

“Is it because I didn’t get down on one knee?” He opens the door of his truck and jumps out before dropping to the ground and glancing back at me. “Amelia Joy Rosenberg,” he begins and I panic, my gaze darting around the parking lot to make sure nobody is watching.

“Please get up,” I whisper-yell, but he ignores me. God, what is he doing?

“Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“No.”

“She said yes!” He stands up and cheers, pretending to accept some nonexistent congratulations from well-wishers while I thank God no one’s around. “Thank you. Thank you,” he gushes. “Yes, yes, we’re going to have a wonderful marriage. Oh, what a lovely thing to say.”

“ Luke .”

“Yeah.” He drops the act immediately and gives me his full attention again.

“Please get in the truck.” I don’t bother hiding my frantic tone.

“You’re making this way bigger than it needs to be,” he says, as he sits down and closes the door behind him, cutting off the air supply. At least, it feels that way. “To paraphrase someone I know…” he continues as I stare at him, “‘I’d rather choose anyone else to marry.’ But this is the hand I was dealt, so work with me here.”

“You’re so funny. I—”

“I’m just trying to protect you.” His voice rises, his words hitting me in the chest as they cut off what was about to be a smart-ass comment about the bachelor getting married. And when he adds, “I’ll do whatever it takes,” my heart stops and a tightness fills my chest.

Luke’s eyes widen as though he didn’t mean for that to come out of his mouth, but it was the right thing to say, because while it doesn’t solve all our issues, when it comes to this, it changes everything. He smiles uncomfortably and for a moment I see the young boy I thought I’d follow to the ends of the earth. My protector, my friend. I want to believe he’s still in there, but there’s so much hurt between us I’m not sure we can fix it, and he’s not the only one to blame.

The only way any of this is going to work is if we put our baby first, just like he said.

“If I do this —if —we’ll need to set some rules.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” His cocky composure settles back into place as though he’s won, and while it pisses me off, I don’t argue. Instead I let out a slow sigh.

“I need you to pay attention.” I throw his words back at him, and rather than make him laugh, his face drops and he nods.

“Thank you. First rule…no feelings.”

“That won’t be an issue.”

“Agreed, but it had to be said.” Luke nods as I move on. “Next, no telling anyone. And I mean anyone .”

“Ah." Luke grimaces. "That’s not going to work. Yes, we need to keep it quiet around certain people, but we have to tell someone in case we need to corroborate our story.”

“ Goddammit . Okay, I’ll tell my friend Hayley, but that’s it.”

“Fine by me.”

“Who are you going to tell?” I ask, hesitantly.

“Not sure yet. I’ll decide on a case by case basis.”

“ What ?” My heart races again. Why am I considering this idea? It’s ludicrous.

“I won’t tell anyone connected to you,” he adds, noting my freak-out, though it doesn’t ease my mind.

“We work together, Luke. We went to school together. Your parents know who I am. Who’s left?”

“You worry too much. I’ll keep it quiet. What’s next?”

“No sex,” I blurt out, and my cheeks heat as I continue. “We are never going there again.”

Luke laughs to himself, and I hate the way it makes me squirm. “You didn’t have to say that either. It’s a given.”

“Okay, good. And last, no fucking around with anyone else. If you’re my husband, you don’t stray.” Luke’s face pales and it’s my turn to laugh. “Did you honestly think I was going to marry you, tell people about it, and then be fine when you continue your fuck-boy ways?”

“I can be discreet.”

“You can be discreet? Ugh . Deal’s off. In fact, I lied—the baby isn’t yours. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

“Fine,” he huffs before his lips curl into a smirk. “That won’t be as hard as you think, but you’re a brat, you know that, right?”

“Believe it or not, while the idea of forcing you to keep it in your pants gives me so much joy, I didn’t suggest it to piss you off. I suggested it to protect myself and our child. The last thing he or she needs is to be born into scandal. You’re not the only one that cares.”

Luke nods, and I sense he’s about to say something but my phone rings, cutting him off. I’m torn when I glance at the screen. On one hand, this is an important conversation that we need to finish, but on the other hand, it’s my boss and I can’t afford to piss him off with the bomb I’m about to drop.

“It’s work.” I cringe. “I should get this. We’ve got our first day of filming tomorrow, and I was supposed to be in the office by now.”

Luke’s eyes flash to the time before he curses. “Say no more. I’m due at the stadium now anyway.” He starts the truck but turns to face me before reversing out of the parking space. “Leave the arrangements to me. I’ll let you know when I need something.”

Our eyes stay locked for a beat before he smiles and looks away.

My mind spins on the drive with so much to unpack from the last couple of hours. It’s strange enough to process the fact that I’m growing a baby inside me, a healthy little human that will be out in the world in less than six months. But then this…

I’m not sure my heart can take anything else.

Did I really just agree to marry Luke?

“ L uke!” I scream his name as he disappears out of sight, sending my pulse skyrocketing. He’s leaving. He’s actually leaving.

“Come on. We have to go.” David grabs my hand and we run down the stairs, only making it to the next level before the smoke overwhelms us. “We have to get out using the second-story balcony,” David says, the panic clear in his voice. “It’s too dangerous to go down.”

I nod as I cough, covering my mouth with my arm and following him to the master bedroom, helping him break through the door.

My chest aches and I sweat while shaking the handle, praying it will open. “Please, come on. David, what do we do?”

“Step back.”

A broken chair smashes into the glass and it shatters in seconds, the noise drowned out by the sound of the flames.

David pushes the sharp glass away before crawling out and moving toward the edge, his voice a distant echo as he waves at me to follow.

I’m scared. My body shakes as I watch him disappear over the edge. But I can’t will myself to move. My lungs tighten as I struggle to take in air, and when my vision blurs, I jump into action.

“Come on, Amelia. You can do this.”

Closing my eyes, I climb over the railing and find a tree branch to step onto, my heart frozen in my chest until my feet touch the ground.

Voices filter through the air and I take off in a run, as fast as my tired legs will allow. I pause when I make it safely into the tree line, but barely get a moment of respite before I’m coughing again, this time uncontrollably, a second wave of panic running through me. I’m going to need help.

I can’t be near this. It could ruin my chances of getting into college. Mom will call my dad. She’ll use this as a way of getting back into his orbit. And I can’t handle that again.

I suck in a frantic breath and turn around, slamming straight into a hard chest. A police officer. I’m doomed.

“Come on,” he says, his tone soft but his eyes full of annoyance. “Let’s get you to a medic.”

My panic increases and—

My alarm goes off at four thirty and I wake with a start, my heart slamming in my chest. When I last checked the time, my mind was still reeling at two a.m., but I must have fallen asleep at some point because the annoying tone erupting from my phone definitely woke me from the depths of nothingness, and now I feel like death.

I swear I was dreaming about something, but the imagery sits just out of reach in my mind. Though I can still feel how it affected me. Only I can’t dwell on it.

Today’s the day. The crew are setting up, the players have been briefed, craft services are ready to go. Within hours I’ll be calling “action” for my first ever prime-time job.

And I’m a goddamn mess.

As if it wasn’t difficult enough having to function knowing I was pregnant and hadn’t announced it yet, I now have my impending nuptials to agonize over. Am I crazy for considering it? Maybe. But Luke’s reasoning was good, and like him, I want to protect this baby. I want to do “whatever it takes,” even if that means marrying a guy I can’t stand to be in a room with.

I wish I could start over—reprogram myself so I can’t access all the memories of our past—then maybe this would be easier.

I know that he’s trying. I’ve seen the change in him since I told him I was pregnant, but we’ve tried to mend our friendship before—at least I thought that’s what we were doing—and I walked away from that far worse.

There’s a strong possibility we’re not meant to be friends.

But co-parents don’t have to be friends; they have to be civil and understanding, willing to negotiate, compromise, talk things through. As long as we can do that, we can make this work.

My phone buzzes across the wood of my side table, and I grab it to silence what I assume will be a follow-up alarm, but instead I find a message from Luke. It’s a photo of a director’s chair that’s poorly edited to include my name. And dammit if it isn’t cute . Until I read the accompanying text.

Luke: Scandal on the Storm set. Director marries the star of her show. In secret

God, he’s annoying. What am I doing?

Amelia: Don’t make me regret it before it’s begun

Luke: Alright baby mama, but in all seriousness… you’re going to kill it today. Show that fucker why you’re the man

Dammit, Luke . My chest tightens and I fight not to let my emotions move in. Now is not the time for him to be nice to me.