I had seen more romantic movies than I could count, and with that massive amount of knowledge could honestly say— as I opened the door to my hotel room, face burning, a very handsome man standing behind me— that I was well aware of how horrible of a situation I had gotten myself into. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of a night filled with unexpected twists and turns.

"I'll order some room service," I offered, my voice uneven as Laurence Royal crossed the threshold. He settled down on the couch, an arm covering his face as he slumped down, looking too tired to hold up his normally polished exterior.

"What would you like?" I asked, moving for the phone.

Laurence Royal, voice weary, replied, "Nothing," voice barely audible from behind his arm. The exhaustion in his tone was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed self.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his response. "So, you're one of those," I muttered, picking up the hotel phone with a hint of annoyance.

His arm fell off his face and he looked over at me, eyebrow raised. "One what?"

"Those people who get all stubborn when they are sick, pretending they don't need anything. All it does is waste time. I'll ask one more time to be nice and then I'm choosing for you. What do you want to eat?"

"Bowl of soup," he muttered, arm back over his face, head leaned back against the arm of the couch.

After ordering two bowls of tomato soup, and a grilled cheese sandwich, I moved to the large balcony windows and pushed them open, the ocean breeze filling the room with fresh air, the roar of the waves a calming balm to the tense situation.

Moving back over to Laurence, I held out a glass of water, and two pain pills. "Here. Take these. They'll help with your grumpy attitude."

Laurence furrowed his brow, staring down at my hand, where the two tiny pills sat. "You're bossy when you take care of people."

I shrugged. "Nothing gets done unless I make it an order. Learned that the hard way when my brothers got sick."

Laurence sat up, taking the pills and dry swallowing them, ignoring the cup of water I had offered.

Yep. Grumpy.

"How many brothers?"

"Six. All older," I replied, sitting down on a chair next to the couch, ignoring the bed completely. I'd force him to move over to the bed eventually, until then, the chair was a safer place to sit than to the spot on the couch he had left open for me unintentionally. 

"They are always breaking bones, spraining wrists, dislocating shoulders, and my job was to patch them up... or call the ambulance depending on how bad it was. I don't know who fixes them up now. Probably one of our dogs... or something," I said smiling to myself, a bout of homesickness tugging at my smile and making it sad.

I miss my mess of brothers. They would laugh their butts off at how I injured my ex boss before sending him to the hospital. They wouldn't be stoked about him being in my hotel room though...

"You love your family don't you," Laurence said, pulling me out of my thoughts. He looked over at me, eyes unreadable.

"More than anything," I said, voice surprisingly fierce. "They've offered to kill for me and it's only fair that I'd do the same. Sibling affection and all that."

Laurence cracked an actual smile. It changed his entire face, making it softer, more approachable, his dark lashes brushing against his cheeks, eyes light. "Held together by a blood pact I assume? I'll make sure not to cross the Autumns family."

I smiled back. "Make sure you don't. My brothers are famous in Montana for their... loyalty."

Laurence raised a brow. "As in beating up your ex boyfriends."

"A bit."

"Can't say I'm disappointed they took care of Liam."

"They don't know about that breakup yet," I admitted. "Not looking forward to them finding out."

"I am," Laurence said, expression darkening.

Before I could read more into his expression, there was a knock on the door, and food arrived.

After pulling the trolley of food inside, I gestured to the bed.

"I'll take the cou—"

"No," I replied.

"I can—"

"No," I said more firmly. "Bed. Now. We need to make sure your shoulder is properly supported."

"We?"

"You aren't going to do it, so it's a 'we' thing until your common sense comes back."

He looked from the bed back to me. "I... don't have pajamas."

"Oh..."

"Yes."

My brain scramble for a non X rated solution. "Boxers and shirt? I won't look. I'll just adjust the pillows once you are under the sheets. Although now that I think about it... you don't have an undershirt do you?"

A smirk touched Laurence's lips. A new smile I'd never seen before. "I've never seen you look so terrified."

I tried to smother my facial expression but couldn't seem to fix it. "It's hard to forget you were my boss sometimes."

His smile vanished, seeming to remember our work relationship. "I'm not now."

"I know," I said more quietly. "But it will take more than a few months for my brain to remember that." 

"Noted," he said, his voice matching mine and growing quiet. "Close your eyes."

My face burned. "What?" I asked, my voice squeaking up an octave. "Why?"

He raised a brow. "Unless you'd rather watch me undress..."

"Oh! Right! Okay. Yeah. Eyes shutting now." 

I scrunched my eyes shut, face burning with embarrassment. I heard a shuffling of fabric, and I did my best not to imagine clothes dropping to the ground and what was now bare. 

Think about something else. Aaaaanything else. Think about the grilled cheese sandwich you ordered. Nothing like a grilled cheese sandwich. Hot... and heavenly in your hands— okay, new thinking topic. The ocean! The water is blue and the waves are loud and the way the sand feels against your skin and gets everywhere you touch— gah! New topic!

"Um. Can you..." Laurence trailed off, sounding uncertain. "I can't... get my shirt off with the sling on."

I peeked one eye open to find Laurence looking at me with an apologetic expression, shirt collar caught on the sling, arm half through the sleeve. 

Laughing, I shook my head. "That didn't work at all."

"I should have thought that through," he admitted. He looked more relaxed, the medication clearly taking the edge off of the pain.

Keeping my eyes focused on his clothes and doing my best to not touch his bare skin, which was both tempted and terrifying, I helped Laurence take off his button down shirt, wondering the whole time how long Bex would laugh when she found out that I had basically undressed Laurence. 

Then, holding the blanket off the bed, Laurence slid under the sheets, pants crumpling to the ground, leaving me with an impeccable view of his chest, like a half unwrapped present. 

My gosh. This view is going to kill me. 

Spinning around, I prepped our food and brought Laurence his bowl of soup and half a grilled cheese sandwich on a tray. "I got you half a sandwich. Can't have tomato soup without grilled cheese. It's an actual crime," I said seriously, hoping to lean into comedy instead of accidentally blurting out something stupid about his chest. 

"I haven't had a grilled cheese in years," Laurence said, looking down at the food with a expression that held fond memories just below the surface.

Placing the tray on the bed, I moved to the chair next it, and dunked my half of the grilled cheese sandwich into my bowl of tomato soup. I was halfway through my own sandwich before I realized Laurence wasn't eating. He was just staring down at his food with an unreadable expression. "This... thank you. This is nice," he admitted.

"Oh... um... Can you feed yourself?" I asked, feeling stupid. He had injured his right hand and shoulder. 

Of course he can't feed himself. He's right handed.

Laurence looked up at me and plucked up the spoon with his left hand. "I'm ambidextrous." 

He slowly put the spoon in his mouth, lashes fluttering closed for a beat, the sight of it felt sinful, sexy. 

Lily! Get it together!

"I'm learning so much about you," I said dramatically, which was undercut by my inability to look at him. My tomato soup was all I could focus on without turning as red as the soup itself.

"What have you learned?" he asked, curious.

"You are grumpy when you get hurt." I said in between thoughtful bites. "You don't like asking for help or receiving it. You don't know how to relax and the final and most shocking twist is being able to use both hands to eat." 

I finished my bowl of soup, enjoying the warmth that began to fill my belly. I always felt steadier after eating. Like an anchor keeping me in place during a storm. 

We fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the ocean waves, Laurence eating the rest of his food. I tucked my legs under me on the chair, gazing out the balcony doors, watching the moonlight kiss the sand. 

"I've learned a few new things about you too," Laurence said, placing his empty tray to the side. He winced at the motion. 

Standing up, I grabbed the tray and moved it to the side table next to his bed as he continued. 

I fought the urge to hide behind my hair, reminding myself that he was probably not going to give me a long list of terrible attributes even if I had just called him grumpy. 

"You surprised me today." 

Standing motionless next to the bed, I waited for more, my lungs constricting, making it hard to breathe.

"You are assertive. You take action." 

As he looked up at me, my body seemed to freeze, fingers itching to tug at my dress, my hair at anything to not feel idle, vulnerable under his gaze. "You cary a new confidence that suits you." 

I sat down on the edge of the bed, surprised by his words, surprised that I agreed, that the honesty in his voice also felt like something I could imagine saying to myself. 

"No one bosses me around. And yet you took charge, strong arming me..." he smiled to himself at the accidental joke. "...into doing what was right when I got hurt." His eyes fell back on my face. "It's nice seeing you take charge. To see you be so sure of yourself."

My mouth went dry. "I... Thank you," I said softly. 

He nodded, taking in my expression, analyzing my face. "Of course." He looked away. "Thank you. For this. I would have sat in that airport all night and been far worse for it."

I smiled. "One of us had to be responsible. It was my turn. You always do the right thing."

He laughed self deprecatingly, his head falling back on the pillow, dark strands falling across his face, eyes glassy, the medication making his words thick. "To my own detriment." His eyes fluttered closed. "I get tired of always keeping everything together."

He sighed, a bone weary sound that seemed to leave him sinking into the bed, exhausted. "So tired," he murmured. 

"Sleep," I said, standing up. 

"Can't," he replied, eyes still closed. "You are distracting, wearing my favorite outfit." 

I nearly tripped, spinning around to stare at Laurence wide eyed. "What?"

"Although the polka dot dress you have is a close second," he added, seeming unaware of the effect his words had on me, unaware of what his medication was making him confess to. 

"I think you should sleep," I said a little more firmly. 

"Incapable. You have ruined sleep for me," he said, sounding loopy, more relaxed and open than I had ever herd. "What's the point of sleep when you are already here?" 

"That's... not funny," I said, face burning. "Stop teasing."

His eyes fluttered open, brow scrunched in confusion, eyes taking a moment to focus on me. "That wasn't a joke. Dashiell's coffee is a joke. You are not a joke. You are—"

"If you aren't going to sleep, then I'll just put on a movie or something. You shouldn't talk to me... like that. You'll regret every word tomorrow." I adjusted the pillows on the bed, making sure they supported his shoulder, avoiding his gaze.

His eyes seemed to grow darker, focus returning for a beat as he watched me. "I assure you, I won't."

Scrambling for the television remote, I turned on the television. "You'll forget. So no point."

"You won't forget though." 

I swallowed. "You're right. I won't." Then I turned the volume up on the first movie channel I came across and drowned out all of Laurence's further attempts at conversation. 

...

The movie that played was a Spanish dubbed version of Casablanca. Laurence fell into the movie, apparently never having seen it before, and I was left fascinated, watching a loopy Laurence argue with the character's choices as the climax came and went. I had seen the movie enough times that the language barrier wasn't an issue for me.  

"She picked wrong," Laurence said, as he watched Ingrid Bergman, the leading lady, on the screen. 

"She did what she felt she had to do," I said from where I sat on the other end of the bed, far from Laurence. I loved the movie, so I had reluctantly moved to where I could see it better but far enough away from Laurence to keep my sanity in check.

"You agree?" Laurence said, looking at me, surprised. 

"No," I said watching the pain on Ingrid's face. "But I understand. We do things all the time that we feel we have to because it makes everyone else's lives better even if it doesn't make ours better."

"Casablanca," Laurence said pretending to read a headline. "A story about how being selfish is the only way to be happy."

"No. She'll be... content. Maybe even happy down the road, it will just be... a different kind of happy. She chose practical. Not passion."

"What was Liam for you?" Laurence asked, surprising me. Apparently all attempt at subtlety and strictly work conversations had flown out the window, probably around the time I had dropped a dozen pieces of camera equipment on top of him. 

"Passion?" Laurence asked. 

I shook my head. "No. I have only ever felt that way..." I trailed off. "Not Liam." Then I turned it back on Laurence. "What about you? What was Allie?"

Laurence leaned back, closing his eyes, unfazed by a question I would have never dared ask that a month ago. He yawned. "I fell for the idea of her. I liked the idea of a partner who was passionate about the world I worked in. Looking back on it, it was practical. It didn't make the end result easier though."

I nodded. "Yeah. I know the feeling."

We sat in silence, the credits rolling, memories of past failed relationships skittering across our minds. The television filled with words and names that we didn't know, flashes of lives we would never know, but had lent their time and creativity to make something permanent. The screen was blank spaces between letters, leaving  the hotel room in darkness, small peeks of light carving across the bed, hinting at light.

And as the credits ended, I turned and found Laurence asleep, looking open and relaxed, lost to the world in a way he so rarely was. Hair tousled, lashes long, dusting across his cheeks. The sight worked its way into my mind, promising to be a memory I wouldn't forget. 

I internally swore, angry at how he managed to take up space rent free in my mind even when he was oblivious to the world. 

Dang it, Laurence. 

Walking to the other side of the bed, I pulled the blankets up until they covered his chest, and before I could talk myself out of it, I brushed several strands of hair out of his face, a weakness that felt earned after a night of vulnerable cracks and hints that I would have to purge when the sunrise sent vulnerabilities scattering like shadows.

His hair was soft in my fingers, silk and perfect in a way that made my chest ache. I wasn't sure how many dates it would take to get him out of my system, but I knew it would be far more than I had originally planned. 

Opening my suitcase, I held back a groan. I had made the mistake of going to the office before going to the airport, and had found my suitcase in Allie's office after leaving it unattended. Now I understood why. 

All of my pajamas had been replaced with silk nightgowns. I made a mental note to start carrying a lock for my suitcase and then carried a purple nightgown to the restroom, mentally preparing to walk around with a blanket on in the morning if Laurence woke up before I did.

With a sigh, I walked into the bathroom and changed into the poor excuse for pajamas, Laurence Royal's words plaguing my waking thoughts as I pulled them on.

"You are distracting..."

My face burned and I avoided my own gaze as I brushed my teeth.

"...Wearing my favorite outfit."

Moving to the couch, I made up a bed for myself, the warm evening breeze settling across my skin. 

"Although the polka dot dress you have is a close second..."

I settled under the blankets, the silk feeling strange against my body.

"You have ruined sleep for me..."

Same here Laurence, I thought, glancing in his direction, face burning.

"What's the point of sleep when you are already here?" 

I pulled my pillow over my head, trying to forget his voice. The way he looked at me. The words he said. The way it made me feel. It felt tattooed to me. Permanent. He had made it very clear that he wasn't a forever kind of person. He refused to be. And just because some medication made him groggy didn't mean it was meant as anything other than flirtation. 

Laurence Royal wasn't a forever man, so I refused to let his words stick to me, to leave their mark on my heart and mind. 

"You won't forget though," Laurence had said. 

I knew that was true. He would probably forget his words, but I never would.

---

Thank you for reading chapter nineteen! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!

UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!

Will Laurence remember what he said tomorrow?

Will he act differently with Lily when he wakes up?

How will the rest of the shoot go?

What will happen next?

CHAPTER QUESTION - What is your all time favorite movie?