“Whatever it is,” I said, placing myself directly in his line of vision, “I can handle it.”
“Can you?” Something about his skeptical, almost cynical tone made my chest feel hollow.
“I’m a big girl,” I assured him, forcing myself to stand a little straighter as proof.
But there was no smile on Todd’s face. Instead, he paced one complete lap around the room before finally sitting down. “I need to ask you something. It’s not an actual question, though.” He looked up at me. When I didn’t move, he patted the spot on the couch next to him.
I sat. “What is it?”
After a hesitation, he said, “I just need to know something, and please, be honest.”
“Always.” My voice cracked, for some reason.
He bent forward, like when I’d first come in, focusing on his hands. “Would you quit?” he said.
“Quit what?”
His eyes made their way up, looking straight ahead but not at me. “Singing,” he clarified, his voice low. “Would you quit singing if I asked you to?” Finally he looked at me. I’d never seen this expression. Doubt, maybe? “Your career,” he added.
I backed away an inch. “Why?”
“I just need to know.”
“Todd, these last few weeks have been extra stressful, but . . .”
“That’s not—”
“It’ll get better,” I cut in.
He shook his head and looked down again.
“The record will be finished next month. We’ll get a break then. Probably. And Max will—”
He lifted his gaze to me, his emerald eyes cold.
“Whatever you two were fighting about, I’m sure it will blow over.” My voice was weak and shaky, totally unconvincing, even to myself. “Right?”
His eyes looked deep into mine, searching, as before. After a minute, he reached over and took my hand. It was the first time he had touched me all night. He squeezed my fingers, his skin so warm, reheating mine. I was beginning to feel calmer as his intense expression melted away.
“Thank you for answering honestly,” he said a moment later. “It makes things easier.” His lips were tight, but they bent at the edges into a flat smile.
I smiled back, a little unsure. “I’m sorry this is such a nightmare for you.”
“It isn’t really,” he said.
I bumped his shoulder, trying to be playful. “You know I can’t just quit,” I said, exhaling a little laugh to lighten the mood.
Todd’s eyebrows pulled together ever so slightly.
“It’s not like I can wake up one morning and decide to hop on a plane and take a trip or whatever.”
“I know,” he agreed, “but I can.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Well, yeah.” I blinked again. Several times. “I guess you can.” It hadn’t escaped my notice how worn out he looked, how completely stressed.
A little vacation away from all of this madness might do him a world of good.
“Todd.” I smiled, feeling relieved by the simple solution. “That’s a great idea.”
He sat back, looking surprised by my answer. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I’m leaving tonight.”
My smile dropped, but I tried to remain calm as I gaped at Todd, who was staring intently at something on the rug between his feet.
“I totally get it that you need a break,” I said after a moment, “but why right this second? Isn’t that a little drastic?”
He didn’t look at me.
“I mean, believe me, I know this is all psycho-insane if you’re not used to it.” I tried to laugh but couldn’t quite get there. “I have to take it, but you don’t.”
When he looked at me, he still wasn’t smiling, so I smiled for the both of us and went on, feigning support. What else could I do?
“I suppose I’ll have to find some way to be the cool, supportive girlfriend, but just don’t stay away too long. Okay?” I was growing nervous at his silence. “Say hi to Chandler for me, and Lindsey, and Steve, and, uhh, Sammy. And bring me back one of those tie-dyed shirts that came in last month. Oh, and a jar of red currant—”
I stopped cold, responding to Todd squeezing my hand like a vise grip. His jaw was clenched, his face pale. And then, just as he turned from me, his eyes snapped shut.
That was when I realized, much too late, that I was getting it all wrong.
“I’m sorry,” was all I heard. I think he repeated it several times, but I couldn’t be sure.
The next thing I knew, his hand had vanished from mine, and he was gone from the living room. The hot Santa Ana winds blew, knocking the French doors against the wall.
“Todd?” I exhaled, not really sure how long I’d been sitting there alone. I heard him in the bedroom. Stumbling through the doorway, I first noticed his half-packed suitcase lying open on the bed, dresser drawers ajar. I felt a wave of panic.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said toward the open closet. “You don’t have to . . .” I choked out the next word, a little disbelievingly, “go.”
“Yes, I do.” Todd’s even-toned voice came from deep inside his closet. He had already decided.
“Why?” I asked when he reappeared.
But he didn’t answer.
“Is this because of Max?”
Todd’s eyes flashed to mine and then back to his packing.
“Whatever you two were fighting about, tell me. I can fix it.”
“No, you can’t fix it, Abby, and I can’t fix it, either. It’s something I wish I didn’t even know. Apparently, it doesn’t matter. Just promise me that you’ll stay close to the guys—Nate and Hal especially. They’re better friends than you realize. Molly, too. Promise me.”
Incredulous, I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
He bent over to close his suitcase, zipped the sides, and then straightened up. But his eyes didn’t seem to be focused. “You’re not a green kid who doesn’t know anything,” he went on, shoving items into the smaller pockets of his suitcase. “You know enough, and you need to take care of yourself, do the right thing. You need to deal with this mess of yours, because I can’t do it for you, and I can’t be here like this.”
My brain couldn’t move fast enough to decipher the string of orders shooting out of his mouth.
“You’re not a puppet on a string.” His voice was even louder. “So don’t let Salinger—”
“Stop yelling at me, Todd. Please!”
He blinked and turned to look at me, at what must have been my baffled, terrified expression.
“Ah. You see? This is exactly why.” He dropped his chin. “Since that night on the side of the highway, I promised myself I would never again lose my temper. But tonight.” He looked up, his green eyes were thin and piercing, staring at something off to the side. “You have no idea what I wanted to do to him after what I found out.”
“Found out what?” My heart pounded in my throat. “What happened?”
Ignoring my questions, he pushed his first suitcase onto the floor and then brought out his other empty one from the closet. He unzipped it and flipped the top open.
A second wave of panic struck. “Will you please stop packing for two seconds and talk to me?”
He stood very still and then looked up. He seemed confused—surprised even, that I was standing there.
He let out a little sigh and lifted a hand, inviting me to him.
I was there in three running steps.
His strong arms wrapped around my body, only they weren’t as tight as I required at the moment. I would have gladly allowed him to squeeze the life out of me if that meant he wouldn’t leave. I pressed the side of my face against his chest and pulled myself as tight to him as I could. His hands were moving over my back, my shoulders, in my hair. Then he kissed me, hard. His grip was rough and forceful, almost desperate, as he pulled me up off the floor. Raging and conflicting emotions stormed through me, making my muscles go tight, then weak. I fought back the urge to cry as I held o
nto him with everything I had.
I didn’t want to breathe, didn’t want to break the connection. But much too soon, his mouth pulled away. My feet touched ground, and his hands slid down my arms, stopping on my elbows.
I leaned in again, but he held me away.
His broken expression turned my stomach to liquid.
“I’m sorry it’s happening like this,” he whispered, not quite looking at me. He was breathing hard, but quietly, trying not to let it show.
My focus was glued to the beloved face before me that was rigid and surly with emotion. “Have you been miserable the whole time?” I asked, wretched at what the answer might be.
“I’m not leaving because I’m miserable.”
“Then why?” I pleaded, panic making me shake.
Although his eyes were still pained, he smiled gently. “Honestly? You honestly don’t know?”
I opened my mouth to reply but could only shake my head.
Todd didn’t speak for a moment, either. For some reason, he was editing himself. I knew by his countenance that he was struggling with his words. I wanted to help him—to reach out, touch him, hold him, but he was standing a good three feet away now, his arms folded against his body. His nonverbal signal rang loud and clear: he wanted me to stay away.
“Abby, you are the most beautiful, amazing, alive person I’ve ever met. I feel so lucky to know you.”
I sensed a “But” coming next, and I didn’t think I could take it.
“But . . .”
I inhaled, but my lungs couldn’t seem to find enough air.
“But,” he repeated, “my being here isn’t helping you. I see that now. You’ve got some things to take care of. Things I can’t help you with. Things in the way.”
I shook my head, hoping to rattle loose some understanding. “What things?”
Todd sighed and walked to the window. “I can’t be in a relationship like this,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out into the dark night. “There isn’t room for three.”
“Three?” I asked, even more confused. “Do you mean Max?”
Todd didn’t reply, but his expression was confirmation enough.
“Are you serious?” I grabbed his arm. “Todd, I swear, there’s never been anything between Max and me.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he said, stepping back. “I don’t like who you are when you’re with him, Abby.”
My stomach clamped; there was no arguing with that point.
“I can’t sit back and watch the way he treats you. Not anymore.”
“It’s not . . . that bad.”
“Yes, it is.” His voice was firm. “It might seem okay to you, but it’s not. And there’re other things now.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to complete the thought. When he didn’t, my hands flew into the air. “So tell me.”
He looked me in the eyes. “Don’t trust him.”
But that was it.
“Todd.” I almost laughed. “You can’t order me not to trust my manager but not tell me why.”
He put a hand to his chest. “I’m asking you to trust me.”
I could only stare at him, completely dumbfounded by his doubletalk.
Without another word, he walked back to the bed and zipped the last suitcase shut. The sound hit my spine like nails on a chalkboard, causing me to react in the worst possible way.
“So is this how it works with you? The first sign of trouble and you cut out?” My biting, irrational words spat out like poisoned darts. “Is this how it was with your old fiancée?”
He stopped zipping and faced me. “This is absolutely nothing like that,” he replied, his jaw tight. “This is me, Abby, doing the only thing I can think of to not completely destroy the most important relationship of my life. Please let me do this.”
We stood in silence, at a perfect impasse.
He was finished. Part of me knew to let him go, but just as he skirted past me on his way out of the bedroom, I remembered something. “I heard what you told Max,” I uttered very quietly.
He stopped and turned back. “What did you hear?” The way his eyes didn’t meet mine, but moved down and then from left to right made me wonder if he was searching his memory to recall the conversation.
I took a step toward him. “You said that you love me.”
Todd sighed, and for some reason he looked extremely relieved by my answer. “Oh.” He nodded. “Well, you knew that already, of course.” His lips twitched, one corner beginning to turn into that lovely grin that always managed to turn my insides absolutely mushy. My heart thumped almost painfully, and the taste of our last kiss clung to my lips, so unfinished.
I took another step toward him, with more confidence this time, until I was standing only one arm’s length away from him. “You also told him you’re going to marry me.”
I wasn’t sure what I assumed his reaction would be, but what happened next was utterly unexpected.
Right before my eyes, Todd’s countenance changed. The relieved expression he had been wearing only seconds earlier was swept away—blank at first, then replaced with something like . . . indifference. He squared his shoulders and leveled his chin, his eyes vacant yet determined.
I couldn’t read his expression any longer. He was wearing his warrior face—the one that revealed absolutely nothing, the one that sometimes scared me.
I’d struck a nerve, without even meaning to.
He tried to move around me. “I have to go,” he said, as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Take me with you,” I whispered in a panic.
He stood still and then turned to look me dead in the eyes. “No, Abby.”
It was a sucker punch. My entire body flinched from it. But I pushed through the stunning pain. “Stay tonight.” My begging voice trembled. I reached out and placed my hand on his stomach, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “I need you. Please.” I ignored the desperation in my tone as my other hand took a hold of him, wringing the front of his shirt between my hands, barely conscious that I was un-tucking it. My hands slid inside his shirt to his waistband. “Stay with me tonight. Stay.”
“Abby.” His voice shook. When his blank expression broke, it became the picture of anguish. “Abby . . . don’t do this.”
I knew he was fighting it, but I couldn’t stop myself from sliding my hands around his middle. His bare skin was warm against mine, and I felt his core tremble at my touch. He whispered my name again, the same anguish behind the word.
When I reached up to kiss him, he grabbed me.
Once more, my feet came off the floor. I wrapped them around his back, hooking my ankles. My foot knocked against an open dresser drawer when Todd spun us around, taking us back into the bedroom. The next moment, gravity changed, and my head hit the pillows. I didn’t even have time to breathe before his mouth was covering mine again, hot and sweet. Then he moved to my neck, my throat, searching and hungry. We moaned simultaneously. When he rolled us over, I felt his hands slide under my shirt, tracing up my spine, stopping right in the middle. He pressed his palms flat, burning all the way to my core.
I tried to speak his name, but was cut off by another fiery kiss. He rolled us again so we were on our sides. I took hold of the bottom of his shirt, wanting to tear it off just to get it out of my way. As it was about to clear the top of his chest, the kissing stopped.
His hands were no longer on my back, but they moved to each of my cheeks, holding my face back, away from him. “Abby.” He was panting. “Stop.”
I opened my eyes, stunned and confused.
“I’m leaving.” There was a deep notch forming between his eyes. “If we do this now, you’ll hate yourself.” He swallowed and lowered his gaze. “And you’ll hate me.”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
The next moment, Todd was removing my hands from his body. “And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” When he rose to a sitting position, he pulled me up, too, tugging down the front
of my shirt to cover what he had uncovered. I could see that his face was pained and embarrassed, but other than that, I couldn’t seem to focus on anything.
“I’m leaving,” he repeated, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself and not me.
Before I could collect my thoughts, he was on his feet, readjusting his own tangled clothing. “I’m sorry,” the back of his head said, and then he disappeared through the door.
I slid to the edge of the bed, but I couldn’t move any farther; it was like the room was going fuzzy around the edges, inching in to the center like a window frosting over in winter. I heard him close and latch the French doors. Some part of my brain realized I was in shock.
Take me with you, I repeated to myself.
You’ll hate me, I heard in reply.
A staccato horn honked from outside. Taxi, I supposed, from somewhere inside my psyche.
I heard the front door open then close.
Another punch, over and over, trying to wake me up.
“Wait!” I called out, stumbling and then falling onto the floor.
{chapter 25}
“BABY’S IN BLACK”
“I’m staying here, okay?” Molly asked.
I must have shaken my head.
“Please, Abby.” She sniffed. Her voice sounded watery. “Abby, please.”
Blankly, numbly, I stared past her and into my front yard. The leaves were starting to turn—yellows, oranges, and reds before a crystal blue backdrop. Malibu was exceptionally cheerful in the late fall, under any other circumstances.
“I didn’t mean to do it. You know I didn’t.” She sounded a little hysterical for some reason. “But . . . but I knew Max was about to go majorly mental on you, so I tried. I was trying to help!”
Puzzled, I moved my eyes back to her. Molly’s expression was frantic and broken. Had something happened? I didn’t know, because I couldn’t think, couldn’t remember. I didn’t let myself.
“You know I would never do that to you. Ever. Except . . .” She lifted a hand, reaching out like she wanted to touch something on my cheek.
That was when I remembered what had happened earlier that day. She was right. I’d totally lost it, came unhinged. And in front of everyone. I moved my own hand up to my cheek, flinching in pain at the touch and the memory.
Abby Road Page 24
