Taming Hollywood’s Ultimate Playboy by Amalie Berlin

hands.
    Every time he was ready to walk again she joined him and they made their way back to the other side, pausing for photos along the way, and once to speak with a camera crew who called to him for an interview.
    Why was he using a cane?
    Who was his date?
    Was she the reason he’d broken up with Simone Andre?
    Though she saw a tic in his jaw with the last question, Liam answered everything politely. Sprained ankle. Grace Watson. No. He’d begged Grace to come with him last night, and she’d miraculously been available.
    At the last leg of the carpet, a very little boy at the front asked about the cane. Even though Liam had given this answer at least thirty times since that first crew had asked, he stopped in front of the boy and shifted his weight to the good leg so he could pinch the pants leg and lift it, showing the expanse of white tape poking up above his sock. “I fell down when I was running.”
    â€œDoes it hurt?”
    â€œOh, it hurts, but I wanted to come and have fun here tonight with everyone. Plus, they gave me a cane to use and it’s got a sword in it.” He pulled the handle up to give the boy a peek of the blade. “I couldn’t pass up a chance to use a sword cane.”
    And he actually had been using the cane, and not just as a cool prop. Why he’d ever been upset to begin with still didn’t compute with her.
    There was some gasping over the awesome sword cane, the boy lifting his own pants leg to show Liam his bandaged knee.
    As much as she wanted to usher him right off into the theater and make him sit, make him take the weight off it, there was no way she’d interrupt wound comparisons and “I fell too” stories.
    By the time she thought her face would split from smiling, the little guy’s mother opened her bag and after some digging produced and unwrapped a colorful bandage.
    She watched as Liam lifted his cuff and the little boy crawled beneath the velvet rope to pull Liam’s sock down and place the bandage right over the bump of his taped ankle, a cartoon character bandage in an expanse of white tape.
    Her heart squeezed as she watched. He might complain about how crowds drained him, but he loved it too. He was so sweet to the boy she had to look away briefly to banish sappy tears.
    He fought to be at all these events, and it wasn’t just because he wanted his career to continue being wildly successful—although, of course, that had to factor in. It was something more.
    He posed for pictures with the boy this time, and their matching bandages, then made it the last few steps into the theater.
    â€œLet’s find where we’re sitting. I need to sit.”
    â€œOf course you do. It still took forty-five minutes to make it into the building.”
    â€œAnd that was fast, Grace. I’ve spent two hours out there before.” He leaned on the cane heavily and gestured for an usher. Soon they were being led to a small balcony to sit down. “Will we have people here with us?”
    He nodded and then proceeded to name names—all of which she’d heard before, and none of whom she’d met.
    Before they got there, she leaned forward in her seat to look at his leg. The tape looked tight but not tight enough to cut off circulation. She pulled the sock up for him, and set it all to rights. “Will there be any empty seats?”
    He did a quick seat count and then shook his head. “Probably not.”
    â€œCan we get a footstool brought up?”
    â€œOh, that we might be able to do,” he said, and then looked at her long enough to demand her attention. “You’re always concerned about my leg and pain level.”
    â€œOf course I am.”
    â€œBecause you know how it is to have an injury?”
    There was an edge to his voice, prompting her to make eye contact again in the low light of the theater.
    â€œI’d like to think that I’d still care without that painful time in