The Critic (34 page)

My heart raced at his words. I glanced at the others in the room. My mom’s eyes had glassed over, and my father was looking at Bentley as if he’d just gained a son. Gina and Bev looked at him as if he were the finest thing on earth, which to me he was, and Seth, who must have entered the room while I was focused on Bentley, was looking me. When he winked, my attention went back to Bentley.

Bentley continued. “You’re the love of my life. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

A single tear trickled down my cheek. “I love you too.”

“So I’ve set up a small party for you at our place. The caterers are there now, and I have a car waiting to take us there. Let’s get out of here and go celebrate.”

Everyone cheered Bentley’s toast. After we’d all gotten a few sips of champagne, I told them I needed time to change. They walked out of my dressing room, talking about the show and the party, but I grabbed Bentley’s arm, bringing him to a halt.

“Can you wait? I need help with my zipper.” I bit my lip and looked at him with imploring eyes.

Bentley raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a gleam in his eye. My zipper was on the side of my dress and not the back, so he knew damn well I could get out of it myself. Once the door was closed and locked, he sauntered to me, making my insides clench.

His hands rested on my waist. “Zipper, huh?”

“Yeah, do you think maybe you could help?” I sucked on my bottom lip and gently grazed it with my teeth, followed by my tongue.

His eyes smoldered as he raised my arm and reached for the top of the zipper. He slowly drew it down, and slid the straps over my shoulders making it fall and pool at my feet. My black bra and panties were all I had on.

“My girlfriend is stunning.” His eyes raked over my body from head to toe. “We don’t have enough time now to do what I want, but believe me, when we’re alone at home, this”—his hand went between my legs and cupped me—“is all mine.” Our eyes locked, and he smiled. “You’re mine, Andi.”

“And you’re mine.”

I placed my hands on his shoulders and melted into him, just as I’d wanted to when I first saw him. Our lips locked in a searing kiss. His tongue massaged the inside of my mouth, and mine reciprocated in pure passion. Once we’d had a taste of each other, it was hard to stop, but knowing that my dad was waiting for me was enough to put out my fire for a little bit.

After Bentley stepped out the dressing room, I washed up and changed into my casual clothes. Then I walked out of the theater hand-in-hand with the man of my dreams. We were greeted by fans asking for my autograph. I beamed at Bentley, who looked almost as happy as I felt. With him by my side, I signed programs and took selfies with fans.

We strolled around to the front of the theater, and he paused underneath my name. He looked up. “So, how’s it feel to have your dream come true?”

I looked at him rather than the marquee. “My dreams came true the day I met you.”

I stared at her in awe. Just the thought of being her dream come true filled my heart like nothing else ever had. To know that this beautiful and talented woman was all mine made me the happiest man on the planet. When she’d surprised me that day in the airport, she solidified my belief that we belonged together.

“Andi.” That was all I could say. How this had all happened was like something out of a weird fairytale, and I didn’t believe in fairytales. If I’d told Andi that, she’d have kicked my ass.

“We better go before they get wasted on the liquor in the limo.” Andi giggled.

As soon as I opened the door to our home, my nose was overcome by the aroma of the Asian delights the caterers had prepared. I needed to excuse myself to write my review and e-mail it to my editor. I had all my notes carefully tucked into my backpack, but I needed to articulate them in a manner that didn’t scream, “My girlfriend fucking rocks.” My prose needed to be a tad more eloquent.

I placed a chaste kiss on Andi’s head and went to my office. I fired up my laptop and reached into my trusty backpack for my notebook. I couldn’t help but smile when a juice box fell out. Trying to rein in my emotions while I wrote would be more difficult than I thought, but once I’d begun, I couldn’t stop.

When I was finished, I joined the rest of the party. Andi was beaming. Her parents were talking to Gina and Seth. I could tell by the look on his face that he’d rather have been alone with her, and I had to say I felt the same about Andi. Celebrating with family and friends was great, but I wanted to have a private party with my girl.

She stood in our living room and tapped a chopstick against a glass, making me smile. “Excuse me, if I can have your attention for a minute.” Andi cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you all for coming tonight to share this with me.” She turned to face me. “And you, Bentley.” Her voice could have warmed the champagne in her hand. “Saying thank you to you doesn’t come close to what I want to say, but for now, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

I raised my glass, and she followed suit. “Cheers, Andi.”

“Cheers.”

Everyone joined in, and crystal dinged as everyone saluted each other.

Once everyone had left and it was just us, I couldn’t contain myself. I picked her up and took her to our bed. We lay on our sides, facing one another. I pushed her hair behind her ears. She smiled making my heart swell.

“Thank you for tonight. You really outdid yourself and are definitely the best boyfriend ever.”

“Andi, I meant what I said. I love you—the woman who busted in on my quiet lunch to yell at me, the woman who always makes me want to use chopsticks, the woman who owns my soul and my love.”

“You’re the man who brings out my passion, who made me want to pull that slingshot as far back as it could go, and you made me realize I was stronger than I thought I was.”

We sealed our declaration with a kiss.

The next morning, Andi stumbled into the kitchen in just a T-shirt and thong. I needed to rein myself in long enough for her to read my article, but that would be a challenge. My cock was already at full alert.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. “Good morning.” Her voice was raspy and sexy as fuck, which didn’t help my current state.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Maybe idle conversation would quash the desire to throw her on the table and fuck her until she couldn’t walk.

“Yeah, I did.” She stretched, and her nipples poked into her shirt as she arched her back.

Shit.
She was going to be the death of me. She finally saw the
Edge
folded neatly on the table, my review in plain sight. Her eyes shot to mine before she picked it up and began to read it out loud.

‘Romance My Heart—A Story of Love

By Bentley Chambers, Managing Editor

For some reason, she giggled after reading the title. She regained her composure, cleared her throat, and continued.

“’
Romance My Heart
, starring Stuart Maxon as Reese McCormack and Andrea Jordan as Fiona Masters was amazing and definitely a must-see. Considering my girlfriend has the lead role, I tend to be a bit biased. So this isn’t the Edge’s official review for this production, and rather than write a non-review, I’ve decided tell you a story of my own.’”

She glanced at me, and I smiled and told her to keep going. She took a deep breath and resumed reading.

“‘Five years ago, I saw a play. A beautiful young woman walked on stage, and my heart stopped. It was to be my first review for the Edge, and I couldn’t wait to sing the praises of this gorgeous creature. I suppose I may have thought she would run to me to thank me and I’d have been able to meet her, but that didn’t happen. Instead, my review wasn’t glowing—it was negative. Who was this actress? Well, it was Andrea Jordan.’”

She paused and took a breath before continuing.

“‘After publishing that review, followed by several others, I couldn’t help but want the best for this woman. I wanted her dreams to come true even though, at the time, I didn’t know what they were. I didn’t know her yet. So I continued to write reviews of her shows. They were mostly negative but still honest.

“‘One day, after I wrote an unsavory review of one of Ms. Jordan’s performances, I had the pleasure of meeting her. She came to where I was eating lunch and ripped me apart. Then and there, I fell in love with her.”

Andi looked at me, her eyes glassed over.

“Keep going.” My heart raced as I waited for her to read the rest.

“‘Once I got to know Andrea, her desire to be great and her passion for acting radiated from her pores. I knew that her dreams would become a reality one day, and I’m so happy I was there to witness it and share it with her.

“‘Andrea once told me that people need to be conscious of how they choose their words and use them wisely, so that’s what I’m going to do now.’”

A tear rolled down her cheek. Without swiping it away, she continued.

“‘The first time I came face to face with Andrea, she refused to let me call her anything but Ms. Jordan. But someday, I will call her Mrs. Chambers because I want her to be my wife. I want us to support each other when we triumph and pick each other up when we don’t. I plan on loving her with all I have and giving her everything she needs.’”

She sniffled as a tear wet the paper.

“‘Andrea Jordan, you once told me there are over a million words in the English language. Well, I just have four for you—will you marry me?’”

The paper shook in her hand as she laid it on the table. When she looked up, I was kneeling beside her. More tears left her eyes when she saw the two-carat, solitaire diamond ring with a platinum setting nestled in the navy velvet box I was holding.

“Bentley.” Instead of going for the ring, she cupped my face and wiped away the tear that had fallen from my eyes.

“Marry me, Andi.” I swallowed hard, waiting for her response.

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and said the most important word I’d ever heard.

“Yes.”

Read the first chapter of

Unexpected Chance

after the Author’s Note & Acknowledgements

One morning, I was watching a documentary on the movie
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,
which happens to be one of my favorites. The documentary mentioned that a critic didn’t like the movie and, prior to its release, left a bad review. All I could think was,
Really? I loved this movie.
Then I thought,
What if that reviewer had held more clout than he did, and the movie was left on the cutting room floor?
We would’ve missed out on one of the most iconic movies of my generation. How many times do you hear, “Bueller, Bueller?” Yeah, my point exactly. I hadn’t planned on writing
The Critic,
but because of that,
The Critic
and my critic, Bentley Chambers, was conceived.