“I think you’re right.” Everett had eclipsed her ambition, her drive, her hunger, all of the things that she now loved most about herself. All the things Josh celebrated. “I think I loved my idea of love. Of passion and partnership. Of someone else’s hand in mine. My name on the lips of a man who wanted me. I craved certainty. The excitement and reassurance of knowing who I was coming home to at the end of the day.”

It was strange to want something for so long, to turn it over so many times in your mind, that the image became as faded and worn as an old Polaroid. To become so consumed by the yearning in your heart that when you got what you’d always longed for, you could hardly recognize it. “But still, I pinned that fantasy on you for longer than I’d like to admit.”

“I’ve been a shitty friend.” Everett let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I want to say that I didn’t know how you felt all those years, but I did. I knew and I pretended not to know because it was easier. I didn’t wanna lose you. You’ve always been there for me.”

It was a crummy answer, but honest, and at the end of the day, it didn’t matter very much. She took the hit like a pinprick.

“You know what’s funny?”

Everett pulled a new cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “God, I hope you’ve got something good, ’cause I feel like a colossal asshole right now.”

Clara grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it on the ground. Even if she wasn’t in love with him, she didn’t want him giving himself lung cancer.

“You came through in the end. Not intentionally, of course, but through sheer dumb luck. Because you got me to Danvers Street. You got me to Josh.”

Everett’s eyebrows shot toward his forehead. “Don’t tell me you and Craigslist guy . . . ?”

She sighed. “I think he might be the best mistake I ever made.”

“The Clara Wheaton I know doesn’t make mistakes.”

She whistled under her breath. “I guess you don’t know me anymore.” Her months in L.A. had been about more than Josh. Somewhere in a falling-down bungalow in West Hollywood, she’d built Shameless and a version of herself that she admired.

Honestly, so what if people knew she’d invested in promoting women’s pleasure? For twenty-seven years she’d held a nearly perfect record, and all it had landed her was a life she could walk away from at the drop of a hat. Maybe it was her Wheaton blood, or falling head over heels for the last person she’d expected, but somehow, some way, Clara had finally developed a taste for scandal.

She got to her feet, her mind already miles away. “I gotta get out of here.”

“What do you mean? You just showed up. The band’s on in ten minutes.”

Leaning up onto her tiptoes, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Sorry, kid,” she said, tossing his favorite nickname for her back over the fence. A quick look at her watch and a few careful calculations confirmed the fastest way back to Josh. She could wait, take a flight tomorrow, but suddenly the idea of getting behind the wheel, of trusting herself and navigating toward exactly what she wanted, was undeniably appealing. Sure, her heartbeat still kicked into high gear. Her hands would probably still tremble a little when she wrapped them around the steering wheel. But Clara now knew that more often than not, the scary things, the ones you spend the most time and energy talking yourself out of, are the ones that make life worth living. “Hey, I actually need a favor.”

“Anything you want.” Everett shrugged. “I owe you big-time.”

Clara held out her hand, palm up. “I’m gonna need your keys.”

Chapter thirty-six

THE LAST THING Josh wanted to do two days after losing Clara was talk to more press. But if he couldn’t do right by the woman he loved, at least he could show up for the project they both believed in.

So Josh sat in the recording studio of KXZR radio station in Torrance. Following the mini press schedule Clara had made for them weeks ago, he and Naomi were appearing on Dana Novak’s popular syndicated talk show. He’d tried calling and texting Clara, but she must have turned her phone off. The word gone flashed across his brain in neon letters.

The well-known host’s signature close-cropped silver hair shone under the lights as she fired off a series of questions. Josh tried to smile. The big headphones he’d received from her assistant made his ears sweat. So far, they hadn’t gone near Clara, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

“How did you decide to start Shameless?” Dana had the perfect radio voice, clear and direct. “I’ll be the first to acknowledge the sad state of sex ed in America. But it’s a bit of a stretch to go from porn—and exes, I might add—to creators in the business of promoting female pleasure.”

Josh nodded for Naomi to take this one. He didn’t feel like talking. Didn’t want to waste another second not looking for Clara, but Naomi had threatened to skin him alive if he missed the interview, and his ex was nothing if not a woman of her word.

“We came into the project with different perspectives but a common goal,” Naomi said. “We both believe sex is better, for everyone, when partners understand each other’s bodies. When they give each other permission to communicate and experiment and grow. Pleasure isn’t one size fits all. Great sex is constantly evolving, and so should the discourse around it.”

Naomi gave him a half smile. “Josh and I happen to have more sex than average, so we’ve learned a few tricks that we share on the site, but we certainly don’t know everything. We could never have brought Shameless to life alone.”

Dana propped her chin in her palm. “Ah, yes. You’ve got a handful of creative collaborators. But I’ll tell you, the one I’m most interested in, and I’m sure you can guess, is socialite Clara Wheaton. Before Shameless, she’d never dealt in adult entertainment, but her family’s got a list of scandals as long as my arm. What made her decide to take a walk on the wild side?” She looked back and forth between them. “Or should I say which one of you?”

Josh had known this moment was coming. Still, his pulse jumped at her name. “We’re not going to discuss Ms. Wheaton in any capacity,” he said into the mic with a flat tone that brooked no argument.

“Ooh, do I detect a bit of protectiveness? Did I stumble on America’s raunchiest love triangle?”

Josh took off his headphones and got to his feet. “I’m done.” The vision that greeted him when he turned around stole his breath. “Clara.”

A fresh wave of pain erupted at the sight of her. Her beauty reminded him that he’d blown the best chance at happiness he’d ever known. He wanted to throw himself at her. Undignified, clinging, grasping. After the last forty-eight hours, he wanted to inhale her.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

She graced him with a smile. “Hello.”

The bright red ON AIR sign cast a rosy glow on her cheeks.

“Are you Clara Wheaton? The investor?” Dana Novak was certainly quick on the uptake.

“I am.” Clara pushed her hair off her face.

Josh didn’t know in that moment if he wanted to laugh or cry. Clara’s soda-can metaphor finally made sense. The emotion inside him had nowhere to go, so it all lodged behind his rib cage.

“Excellent. Shall we pull up a chair?” Dana signaled to a young woman watching them behind a large window. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a surprise guest for you today.”

“What are you doing here?” Josh stared at her. He couldn’t make sense of her presence. Half of him believed that if he blinked too long she’d disappear. She obviously didn’t want people to know about her involvement with Shameless, so why had she shown up during a live interview? Whatever her reasons, he preferred any room with her to one without her.

Dana’s assistant ushered Clara closer to the microphone and manhandled Josh back into his own chair.

“I came to tell you something,” Clara said, her mouth inches from the mic.

“You want to tell me something now? While hundreds of people are listening?”

“Thousands,” Dana corrected.

“Yes.” Clara gulped. “I know I said what happened between us was just sex.”

Josh’s eyes shot around the room at their spectators. He had zero clue what was happening or whether it was good. Still, the word sex on Clara’s lips was enough to make him half-hard.

Naomi sat up straighter in her chair. There goes that secret.

Dana steepled her hands. He could tell from her face that she thought this interview had gotten a whole lot more interesting.

Clara continued. “But our relationship is so much more than that. I came to tell you, and apparently a bunch of strangers listening, that I’m in love with you.”

Josh’s heartbeat slammed in his ears. He bit his tongue, tasting pennies.

“I’m sorry I was too scared to accept it before. I always thought love was supposed to make you itchy. A crawling-out-of-your-skin kind of obsession. I thought love was synonymous with pining and longing. That it had to hurt.”

Josh could read between the lines. She meant, I thought love looked like Everett. Man, he fucking hated that guy.