Page 92 of I Think He Knows

Liam:You would.

Lana Mae: I swear I don’t know these people.

I laugh as I read the messages, touched that they’ve included me in the infamous family group chat that Mindy set up a couple of months back, much to Liam’s chagrin. I love the Donovan clan, and with every day that goes by, they all feel even more like family.

Then, I click to my other message.

Elena:Great news, C! Nova Khatri has personally requested a meeting with you when you’re in LA. I thinkIf Onlyis in the bag. Great job on laying low in ATL, the whole “engaged to your hometown girl” bit has def paid off.

Just like that, my warm feeling turns cold. For one, reducing what I feel for Lana to a “hometown girl bit” is plain wrong. And for two, there’s not a flicker of excitement within me at the thought that I might have landed the biggest role of my career.

Sure, wanting to win this role was the catalyst for this entire fake engagement fiasco, but honestly, it’s barely crossed my mind lately. How Jared feels about his work with the at-risk youth?That’s how I should feel about winning this role inIf Only. Inspired. Passionate. Committed.

I don’t feel any of these things. I’m not sure I even want the role, if I’m being honest with myself.

What I love is here in Atlanta. If I land the role inIf Only, it means that soon, I’ll have to leave again.

I never even wanted to leave in the first place.

30

LANA MAE

Stepping into LAX to the flash of a million cameras was something I never thought I’d experience in this lifetime. Or in any of the next thousand.

But here I am, bathed in morning sunlight as I walk hand in hand with Carter through the Arrivals area. We’re flanked by two huge security guards and I’m trying my best not to panic as we get closer and closer to the mildly blinding lights.

I look up at Carter and his expression is blank. Dark sunglasses, baseball cap pulled low over his face, features carefully neutral as he walks slightly ahead of me, almost possessively shielding me from the cameras.

I try to emulate what he’s doing, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the exit up ahead. And tilting my chin up so we don’t have a repeat of the paparazzi photo of a thousand chins.

As we approach the mob of lights and shouting camerapeople, Carter squeezes my hand, and when I squeeze back, he runs his thumb over my skin in a smooth, steady, reassuring motion.

Everything’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.

My eyes flicker to his face, and he’s still calm, composed. Nobody would ever guess that we’re communicating in secret right now.

We stop for a moment right before the exit, and Carter gives a smile, a wave, a nod—saying hello to his fans. How he can tell the difference in the blur of bodies is beyond me. The whole thing seems entirely exhausting.

Outside, the security detail helps us into a vehicle with tinted windows. As soon as the door shuts behind us, Carter lets out a huge exhale before pushing his sunglasses up on his head and turning to face me. He reaches out and cups my face in his hand, his beautiful eyes trained on mine. Always checking on me. Always making sure. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yup. Glad that’s over, though.”

“I’ll say. I bet Elena arranged that circus.”

“She’s good at her job.”

“She is,” Carter agrees, closing his eyes before pulling his hands from my face. As he swallows, I watch the strong, tanned column of his throat in awe. Today, his jawline is dotted in designer stubble. I can only imagine how that would feel against my cheeks as he kisses me. “Since the engagement party, the media have been hungry for more pictures of us together, and I guess that’s what Elena delivered. We’ll go in the back way to my place to avoid any more of that.”

My place.

It’s almost crazy to me that Carter’s got this entire life out here. He drops intomylife as and when he can, but I’ve never seen California Carter in his habitat.

I always blamed my lack of visiting him on not wanting him to pay for my flights. But maybe, possibly, there was a tiny part of me, deep down, that was scared to see this side of him. His fame, his high-profile relationships, his work and networking… I worried that all it would do was remind me how established he is here. He moved to LA in the first place to pursue exactlythis, and despite his beautiful house in Atlanta, there’s a very real chance that he might never come back for good.

But I’m not going to go there right now. There’s another very pressing issue weighing on my mind.

“I’m intrigued to finally see this famous coffee machine of yours.”