Forever With Him

by Stacy Travis

  Nothing else had been explained. But everything had been communicated in that kiss. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe he didn’t, either, because neither of us spoke right away. It suddenly seemed that words were insufficient to communicate with the kind of precision delivered through a kiss like that.

  Chris focused his eyes on mine again, questioning and waiting for my response.

  “I can’t believe you came all this way. I… don’t know what to say.”

  “Say that you’ll stop waiting for the end of us. Say that you understand the way I feel about you. There’s no distance I wouldn’t fly to tell you that. I only want one person, and she’s here on this bench.”

  I let out a breath. “I do understand. And it’s not your fault that trust doesn’t come easily to me. It’s a learned behavior. I know I need to work on it.”

  “We need to work on it. So we will.”

  I was annoyed with myself and my inability to evolve. I wanted to get past my issues, but some of them were deeply rooted in old relationships and ingrained fears. I ran my hands through my hair, which pulled some wisps free from the clip. I could see them dancing in a halo around my shadow on the ground.

  Chris reached up and tucked a few of the errant wisps behind my ear. He looked at me tentatively, tilting his head and gazing at me with his penetrating brown eyes. The anticipation and wonder felt like the moment before a first kiss.

  His fingers dragged along my cheek and cupped my chin lightly. “I have to be back at the airport in forty-five minutes. Will you ride with me in the car? The driver can drop you home after.”

  I nodded. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

  In one graceful motion, he was on his feet, and he’d scooped me up into his arms. He planted kisses on my forehead and cheeks and lips as he carried me to the waiting town car. “I hope there’s a lot of traffic between here and the airport.”

  “It’s LA. There’s always a lot of traffic.” For once, I was thrilled by that fact. I buried my face in his neck and held tight while he carried me to the car.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Los Angeles

  Chris

  The outdoor staircase on the tarmac rolled away as soon as I stepped onto the plane.

  “Everything good, lovebird?” I heard the words before my eyes adjusted to the darker interior. Then I saw her, sitting cross-legged on the couch, blond hair tossed around her shoulders, her expression more smirk than smile. If anyone had walked onto that plane and seen her sitting there, reclined in a lazy, inviting position, they would have gotten the wrong idea for sure.

  Nikki had wanted to walk me to the plane. The only thing that prevented it was her lack of a passport, since my flight would be leaving the US and required a special security check. It would not have been a good situation, all things considered.

  Triss’s voice had the effect of a knife gutting me without doing me the courtesy of killing me first. The mere tenor of it was painful, and I steeled myself for another long flight in close proximity.

  “Everything’s fine,” I answered, tight-lipped and disinterested in having a conversation with her.

  Triss had jumped at the opportunity to share my last-minute ride to Los Angeles because she wanted to pick up the Maltipoo that she and her ex had been co-parenting. They’d decided she would keep the dog, though I suspected that the urgency in retrieving him had more to do with pissing off her soon-to-be ex than with necessity. But I couldn’t really say no—I’d already disrupted our shooting schedule, and she would have to work part of the weekend to make up for the lost day. If she was willing to do that, I couldn’t begrudge her one of the seats on the plane.

  I thought better than to tell Nikki we’d flown together, especially once our conversation had grown tense, but not saying anything felt the same as a lie. Once again, I’d been asking her to trust me and be honest, and I couldn’t get there myself.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I felt like shit. And I was leaving yet again. And I was exhausted.

  The dog—Marley, named after either Bob or Ziggy, but I didn’t bother to ask—slept in its Louis Vuitton carrier at Triss’s feet. I wondered if she’d given him a sedative. It would bother me to know she’d drugged an animal, and it was one time when I decided that not knowing was the better call.

  I dropped into one of the white leather club chairs on the plane and cracked open a water bottle from the side console.

  “Good. I’d hate to think we flew all this way and you didn’t resolve things.” She was smiling at me through layers of eyelashes I assumed were fake and twirling her hair around her finger. She sat cross-legged in yoga pants and a sleeveless tank.

  I huffed a laugh at that. “Okay.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, blinking as if her eyes stung with tears.

  Actors…

  “I just said okay.”

  “But you didn’t mean it.”

  “How can a person not mean the word ‘okay’?”

  “You said it like you think I’m being insincere. You know I only have your best interests at heart. I didn’t mean to have pictures end up in a magazine so your girlfriend would find out about us.”

  I closed my eyes in some small hope she would disappear when I opened them. A long flight with her was going to work my last nerve. “Triss, there’s no us. She didn’t find out about us. She saw the tabloid photos, which never should’ve happened because you never should’ve kissed me.” I’d said this to her several times already, but it clearly hadn’t sunk in.

  “I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.”

  “What?!”

  “I’m just kidding,” she said, giving me a playful punch in the arm. “God, you’re so easy to mess with. I’m just trying to get you to have a sense of humor.”

  “Triss, why do I get the impression you find humor in other people’s problems?” As soon as I’d said it, I wished I hadn’t. It was a dick thing to say.

  She shrugged, twirling a strand of her hair. “I do like drama,” she said, not offended. “Too bad you don’t. It’s gonna be an awfully long plane ride if we’re just sitting here like a couple of nuns. We could have some fun.” She reached over and punched me in the leg, raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips in a seductive pout.

  “Then I guess it’ll be a long plane ride.” I turned away from her and picked up my sides for the next day’s shoot.

  “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’m just teasing you ’cause you flew six thousand miles to explain a photo. Who does that? Couldn’t you have just had a phone conversation with your girlfriend? What’s her name again?”

  I held up a hand to stop the conversation. “Just… never mind.”

  Triss picked up her phone and tapped on the screen. A couple seconds later, she said, “Nikki.” She squinted at the screen of her phone, then moved her fingers to blow up what seemed to be a photo. “She’s cute. I didn’t know you liked the granola type.”

  “She’s not granola,” I said, falling right into her trap, realizing it, then pressing my lips together to keep from saying more.

  Triss laughed. “You’re so easy to rile. I urge you, lighten up. Does she like this side of you? Is she into brooding?” As if to show her nonbrooding side, she walked to the mini-fridge at the front of the plane, grabbed a can of pink wine, and popped the top. “Is it uncouth if I drink this from the can?” she asked, slurping off the rim.

  It amused me that she even thought about it. “Do what you want. There’s no one else here.” I looked around to make sure I was correct. Nope, no one was there. Just us for hours and hours.

  She took a big swig then another. After placing the can on the table between our white leather armchairs, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Well, hallelujah for that. I don’t need to be followed around and photographed every minute of my life.”

  “Seriously? I thought you lived for that shit.”

  “You thought wrong. I don’t like the media in my bus
iness any more than you do. You really think you know me so well?” She glared at me as though I’d said I was going to throw her dog off the plane.

  I shrugged. “Okay, my bad. I apologize.” God, her moods were all over the place. And she was difficult. If not for her acting ability, which was impressive when she committed herself, I might have pushed to get her replaced on the film. I’d never used my clout in a film to get another actor fired, but she begged me to make an exception. Daily.

  “I’m just saying, what’s the point of getting upset about it? They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do. Haters gonna hate, right?”

  From underneath us, I felt a rumble as the engines fired up. The pilot closed the door dividing us from the cockpit, and the plane started rolling toward the runway. I fought the feeling of sadness over leaving—again—after only a couple hours with Nikki. It was never enough. It would never be enough.

  So fix it, asshole. Or enjoy stewing in your own stubborn stupidity.

  Ignoring my outspoken conscience, I looked out the window and watched the last place I’d been with Nikki—the last place I’d gotten to kiss her and hold her before reluctantly letting go—fade into the distance. I knew our current situation was my fault but had no idea how to fix it.

  “I guess we’re both in a bad way,” I heard Triss say. When I turned back to look at her, I saw sympathy that had generally been absent when the cameras weren’t rolling. “I mean, I’ll get my shit together about my marriage eventually—mostly by talking about it. I’m an extrovert, as you’ve learned. But you seem like you need an intervention.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Really? Are you a climate change denier too? You’re not fine. You have it bad for her. You can’t keep jetting around the world on some kind of apology tour. So whatever you’re doing wrong, do it different. That’s free advice from me to you.”

  It wasn’t a conversation I really wanted to have, and especially not with Triss. I was still pretty pissed off at her about many things, so I said nothing and looked out the window again. Maybe she would drink her wine and fall asleep for two hours—or nine.

  She reached out her toe and nudged my leg. “Hey. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass. I have… a special talent for it.”

  To save my sanity, I either had to get her to stop talking or get over my annoyance and engage with her. Both seemed like insurmountable obstacles. “It’s okay,” I said, not choosing either one.

  She nudged me again. “Really. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more of a human being.”

  That made me laugh a little. “Sounds good.”

  She was quiet for a while. Eventually, I looked over and saw that she was reading a book that had dragons on the cover. That made me relax, because if she was occupied, I could work a little. The hardest scenes were behind us, and I felt pretty good about what we had to do in the upcoming week, but there was still the project I’d agreed to do after this one.

  I was in a bit of denial about the fact that I would barely have any time off between when this movie wrapped and when preproduction began on the next one. I still kept thinking I could finesse the dates so I would have some time in LA with Nikki, but the calendar wasn’t going to budge.

  I was used to the pace, but I couldn’t blame Nikki for not liking my schedule.

  Regardless, I needed to read through the script again. My role was a professor with special needs who falls in love with his caregiver and doesn’t want her to know how he feels. He wants to save her the embarrassment of rejecting him. The concept was sweet, but the character was pretty far outside my action-hero comfort zone. I needed to do some research and put in the work in order to play the character with the sensitivity the part deserved.

  I pulled the script out of my bag and flipped it open. The dialogue drew me in immediately—it was so beautifully written, I felt the emotion through the pages. I’d read about thirty pages before I looked up and realized Triss was staring at me. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Is that our movie?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. It’s my next project. It starts prep pretty much right after this one.”

  At first, I thought she was annoyed that I was looking at a new project when we were in the middle of filming ours. “Does it shoot in LA?” she asked.

  “It was supposed to, but they changed it. Budget issues or some crap. A few of the locations are still in LA, but most of it will be in Atlanta, actually.”

  “So you’re gonna be away from her for, what, another month or two? And she’s okay with this?”

  “We had other stuff to talk about. I didn’t want to bring it up.”

  “But you’re doing the film.”

  “I’m supposed to.” I wished she’d go back to her book.

  “And she doesn’t know.”

  “No,” I said, getting annoyed. Why was she carping on this? I’d tell Nikki when I wasn’t busy apologizing for something else.

  Triss shook her head. “You. Are. Fucking. This. Up.”

  I still thought she was talking about our movie and worrying that I’d lose focus if my mind was on another project. “Triss, I’m set for our next set of scenes. I’ve been working on them for weeks. Trust me, I’m able to multitask and not lose the thread of what we’re doing.”

  “You are also an idiot.”

  “Awesome. Thanks. It’s good to hear,” I said, the sarcasm thick. I’d worked hard to get my character right, and I felt good about the job I’d done so far. “Do you really think my work on our movie has been subpar?”

  “I’m not talking about our movie, you thick-headed dumb lug. I’m talking about Nikki. You’re blowing it.”

  And… she had my attention. I was going on twenty-four hours without sleep, and I’d flown across an ocean to try to fix things. So I really hoped she was wrong. “Stick to what you know. We’re all good.”

  “Exactly. You’re great because she doesn’t know you’re leaving again. Men are so clueless. Actually, that’s not fair. Not all men are clueless, but you… you are clueless. I’m sorry to have to be the one to set you straight, but you, Chris, are a brilliant actor, but you’re dumb as a rock when it comes to relationships.”

  I put the script down and closed it in my lap. My eyes hurt from fatigue. “Please don’t make me guess. Just tell me what the hell you’re talking about, Triss, so I can understand what you want.”

  “See? There. That. If you just said that to Nikki, I’ll bet you’d be taking the next four months off after our film and spending time being in love.”

  I shook my head. “Being in love isn’t an activity. It’s a state of being that can exist with a full-time job.”

  “Not in the beginning, it can’t. If you don’t put in the time, you’re going to blow it. You and I will be done in a couple weeks, so I won’t be here to set you straight. You need to figure this shit out now, while I can still tell you you’re doing it wrong. Make a mental list of your priorities. And if she’s at the top of that list, don’t blow it by flying off to another city. Now … sit in your chair and think about it, you silly, unevolved, pretty-faced man.”

  Triss cracked another can of wine and went back to her book. I considered ignoring her and going back to the script, but I quickly found that my concentration was shot.

  What if she’s right?

  The idea that I was doing anything wrong didn’t sit well with me. I’d had acting success at a young age, and my career had only soared from there. With it came women and directors and more women clamoring for my attention. That was my baseline. It all looked pretty damn good. And now I was off on the wrong track, I guessed, but I had no preparation for it.

  Shocker. You know squat about how to have a relationship, and that’s why you avoid them.

  That thought did not fill me with optimism. I talked myself down, something I was pretty good at doing because it saved me from actually having to analyze my behavior. And why should I? My career was on fire. I was good at the work. I just needed to focus on that
. I was a goddamned superhero, for God’s sake.

  Holy shit, you’ve actually drunk the Kool-Aid.

  I really was stupid. Even the superhero doesn’t get the girl if he’s busy rescuing people twenty-four-seven. How could he get her if they were never in the same city?

  Chapter Seventeen

  San Diego

  Nikki

  Work was nuts for the next couple weeks, which was a good thing, because it kept my mind off of Chris. More specifically, it kept me blissfully free from self-examination. I loved Chris, but I was over the long-distance relationship.

  You love him. You want to be with him. So ask for it.

  That was another problem, and I was pretty sure it went hand in hand with the first one. I was afraid I couldn’t have what I wanted. At the same time, I was falling harder and more fully in love with him, even at a distance. It scared the wits out of me—not only was I powerless to control it, but I was worried we’d never live in the same place. I would be stuck in a sad rut, completely in love with a man I couldn’t have.

  Until I could see past that day and find some convincing hint about our future that would sustain me, I would still have one cautious foot out the door… even though I’d promised to trust him.

  Even when I’d said it, I knew it was wrong. I wasn’t ready. I didn't want to get hurt. I also didn't want to hurt him. He was working his tail off on his movie, and I didn’t want him to be distracted by worry. I wanted him to believe we were going to be okay, even as I feared that we weren’t.

  I thought about all of those things on the two-hour drive south of LA, where I was headed for a meeting with the CEO of Aventria, a biotech and pharmaceuticals company. I didn’t mind the drive, and normally, I would have listened to a podcast and zoned out, but I kept the radio silent so I could think.

  Because I didn’t want to deal with my fear of love and loss, I’d been pouring myself into my job and my art projects. That had worked out well for me at work because I’d been able to pick up two new accounts, both of which were in a public relations tailspin and needed my intervention. Corporate crises were my specialty, and I liked being the calm in their bad-publicity storm.