Happily Ever After? (Sleeping Handsome Sequel) Read Online Free PDF Page A

What?” she
barks.
    “ I seriously don’t think
Amanda is after me. What does it matter though? Unless you don’t
trust me. Do you trust me?”
    “ Of—of course I trust you.
I just don’t trust her.”
    I sit up and the bed
creaks from the sudden movement. “What does that mean? You think I won’t be able
to resist her or something? Because now I’m wondering if you really
do trust me.”
    “ No…I trust you.” She lets
out a long breath. “This is just a lot to take in right now.
Missing you so much and finding out you’re working with
her.”
    “ I find the lack of
conviction in your tone upsetting.”
    “ Zach…please understand.
It really has nothing to do with you. It’s just her. I don’t want
to dislike anyone, but I can’t stand her.”
    “ She doesn’t
matter.”
    After a short span of silence, she
says, “Yeah okay, you’re right. Just please don’t talk to her.
Okay?”
    “ Sure, Paige. I’ll stay
away since I won’t be able to withstand her charms.”
    “ I didn’t mean it like
that!”
    “ Can we talk about
something else? Why are we wasting our time on this?”
    “ Right.” There’s a long
stretch of quietness. “Did you and Emily do something on
Saturday?”
    We talk about the trip Emily and I
took to the beach. We discuss all the things we’re going to do when
Paige gets home. We share stories about our jobs. Behind everything
is the undercurrent of her anxiety. And I don’t know how to deal
with it because her anxiety hurts. Punctures me in a place she’s
never touched. Makes me doubt her trust. Makes me question
us.
    I’ve never questioned us.

~5~
    Paige

    Outside my hotel window rooftops gleam
in the setting sun. Very pretty. Far beyond the roofs, I can see
the tall towers of the castle where we have spent the last week
shooting. I planned on going out tonight under the shadow of those
towers and wandering through the quaint shops lining the street
next to the hotel instead of listening to Zoe gossip—wow, that
woman can gossip. Shopping far more than gossip would keep my
thoughts from Amanda. During work today, I tried to stay
professional. My mind only wandered once or twice, okay maybe three
times, to the new awful dilemma of her working with Zach. Now I
stand here with a lovely city below me and think of her.
    And him.
    Because there was no email waiting for
me. I’ve checked my inbox over ten times. Still no
email.
    Why didn’t he email?
    Surely, she hasn’t got her
claws into him this quick . I blanch at the
thought. Her working with him is testing my trust. I grip the window ledge. I do
trust him. But three years of her stealing every boy in sight
haunts me and leaves my self-esteem feeling ghostly. Being stuck
here thousands of miles away is like being stuck up a creek without
an oar. Or is it paddle? Whatever.
    A knock sounds on my door announcing a
dinner of cheese salad. Ugh. I’m not really hungry. I’ve also gone
through most of the room service menu. Well, except for the venison
and reindeer. Even if I like to try new things, eating Bambi or
Rudolf isn’t going to happen. And unsurprisingly I’m getting tired
of seafood, the main ingredient on most of the room service menu.
Another reason to leave my room, but I just can’t do it.
    The absent email weighs too heavily on
my mind.
    The opening of the door holds a
surprise. Rather than a food service cart, Bret Travis—that has to
be a stage name—stands in the hall. He’s the third wheel to our
triangle of evil. He plays my brother, Gunner, in the movie. My
original name was Gudrun—at least on Wikipedia—but they changed it
to Gwen. Even the bad guys need decent names in movies.
    Smiling, he lifts a white paper bag.
“Thought I’d come to you since you never come to dinner with
us.”
    Several of the crew and actors go out
to a different restaurant every night. They’ve invited me every day
so far, but between my phone call schedule with Zach and daily
emails, I can’t seem to tear