Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) Rowe, Lauren (read aloud TXT) 📖

has agreed to move into my condo with me when the show is over in a couple weeks. Surely, if Mimi were here and somehow found out we aren’t actually engaged, she’d nonetheless feel Savage’s agreement to move in with me, on its own, was a huge breakthrough for him. A massive commitment, standing alone. And I’m determined to be satisfied with only that, without also dreaming about exchanging promises of “forever” with him, as well.

“So, what ‘Truth’ do you want to know, Fitzy?” Savage asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Birthday Truth or Dare,” he says. “What’s this all-important question you have that’s more important than getting to watch me make a fool of myself in front of all our friends?”

I pause, considering my options, and finally settle on the one thing that’s been nagging at me the most lately—actually, ever since the press conference, and then even more so after our conversation in Chicago, when Savage admitted he hasn’t slept with anyone else since first laying eyes on me at Reed’s. What’s the whole truth about what Savage said to that Instagrammer at Kai’s birthday party?

I haven’t talked to Savage about that, since those very first days when he swore, up and down, he didn’t mention my name to her, simply because I’ve been certain he wouldn’t give me a straight answer, even if I asked. Or maybe I haven’t asked Savage recently about this because I’ve been afraid the truth wouldn’t be as romantic as I’ve come to hope. If Savage did tell that woman he had to “lay low” for the show, and nothing more, I’d rather not hear that now. On the contrary, I’d rather continue fantasizing about a fairytale where my gorgeous Beast told that Instagrammer he couldn’t sleep with her that night because he had his sights set on someone named Laila.

I stroke Savage’s naked chest and the grooves in his abs for a moment, keeping him in suspense. And finally say, “Okay, here’s my question—and I want the whole truth. Tell me whatever you can remember about your conversation with the Instagrammer at Kai’s birthday party. I know you were drunk and don’t remember everything, especially now that so much time has passed, but—"

“I remember every word of that conversation. At least, every word I said to her.”

My breathing hitches. I look up from his chest and something in his moonlit expression makes me sit up, all the way on the couch, and brace myself for whatever is going to come out of his gorgeous mouth next.

Following my lead, Savage sits up, too. “You want the whole truth? Well, here it is. When I saw her video the next morning, and heard her tell the world I’d said your name twice, I was scared shitless she’d outed me—but also relieved as hell. I felt like I’d dodged a huge bullet. Because the full truth is that I said your name at least ten times to that woman during our short conversation.”

“What?” I whisper.

Savage’s dark eyes flicker with heat. “I was totally and completely obsessed with you by that point. Tortured you hadn’t answered any of my texts during the tour, or after it. Tormented you hadn’t come to my room in a single city, despite how much I’d begged you. I’d been dreaming about you, pretty much every night. Pulling out my hair, trying to understand how the night of the hot tub wasn’t as big a game-changer for you as it had been for me. So, when I saw that woman, and she looked so much like you—although, to be clear, you’re way hotter than her—I lost it. I told her she looked like you—that she reminded me of Laila. And finally saying your name out loud to someone broke the seal on my madness, so to speak. And, suddenly, I couldn’t stop myself from confessing everything. Laila, Laila, Laila. I poured my heart out to her. Told her how obsessed I was with you. How tortured I’d been. But I guess she didn’t hear most of it, due to the noise at the party. When she asked me to take her upstairs, I was shocked. I’d just told her, in no uncertain terms, that I only wanted you. And this bitch’s response was to think I’d fuck her as your stand-in? It pissed me off to think she, and the whole world, assume I’m that big a player. So, I told her no, I didn’t want to go upstairs with her or anyone else. I told her I’d made a promise to myself not to have sex with anyone but Laila, ever again. Until the end of time. And that she should feel free to tell the whole world I’d said so.”

I gasp.

“I knew who she was the whole time. I’m not stupid. She was constantly tagging me and the band in her posts and videos. So, I drunkenly told her to post a video outing me because I wanted you to see it. Because I wanted you to know how much I wanted you. Because I wanted you to finally put me out of my misery and contact me, even if only to tell me why you didn’t want me the way I wanted you.”

I can’t speak or breathe. My jaw feels like it’s resting in my naked lap. The world feels like it’s warping around me.

Savage says, “When I woke up the next morning, my sober brain realized how stupid and reckless my drunk brain had been. So, when Eli gave me a plausible interpretation of what I’d said the night before, I ran with it. But it was Eli who said I must have said I had to ‘lay low’ because of the show. Not me. I didn’t use the word ‘promise’ in relation to my contract with the show, Laila. I said everything that Instagrammer claimed I did and much more. I wanted you so badly, it physically hurt by then, and I couldn’t figure out, for