by M. S. Parker
I almost didn’t call. But then I thought about how I’d feel if Cody needed to talk to me, but didn’t for whatever reason, even if it was because he thought I didn’t feel good enough. I’d be torn between irritation and hurt.
That was what decided it for me. Curled up in my favorite spot on the window seat, I called up his number on my cell phone and listened as it rang. It was answered almost immediately and the clenching in my gut started to unravel.
That lasted about two seconds.
“Gabriella.”
I tensed at the sound of Claire’s voice, frosty and stiff, on the phone.
“Ah, hi, Claire. I was just calling to talk with Cody. Is he around?” My hand tensed on the casing of the phone. I already knew what she was going to say.
“No. He’s resting. His physical therapist left and I took his phone so he wouldn’t be disturbed.”
“Okay. Well, when he wakes up—”
“I won’t give him your message, if that’s what you’re getting ready to ask.” Over the phone, her voice came at me like a slap. “You’ve done enough damage to my family, young lady. Frankly, I’ve had enough of it. Cody could have died. My oldest son is hardly on speaking terms with me. For that matter, even Flynn rarely speaks to me now. All because of you. I have to focus on repairing the damage you’ve done and I can’t do it with you around.”
The call disconnected while I sat there, too shocked to do anything.
It was too much.
The blows from Edward, my lingering exhaustion and now the attack from Claire.
Had it come at any other time, I think I could have handled it, handled her better. But just then, I felt too empty, too drained. Too empty.
I let the phone fall from my hand and sat there as the tears burning my eyes started to fall.
I didn’t know how long I sat there.
The light shifted and changed so I knew hours had passed. Early morning gave way to early afternoon and my back was growing stiff. My mouth was dry and my stomach made a couple of grumbling complaints, but I simply ignored the physical discomforts, rolling onto my side and stretching out on the chaise to stare at the vivid burst of the potted orchids sitting just outside the window.
When I heard the footsteps behind me, I closed my eyes.
It could only be Edward.
A few times during the day, Helen had come in to check on me and her hovering had gotten worse when I wouldn’t talk to her. Then, she’d gotten Paul and I hadn’t talked to him either. He must have called Edward and I had even less desire to talk to my fiancé than Paul. I didn’t want to talk to anyone because there was nothing to say.
But it wasn’t Edward who dropped down into my line of sight in front of the window seat. Faded denim stretched over strong thighs and a worn black T-shirt featuring some indie rock band molded to Flynn’s chest as he stared at me with hard eyes.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked bluntly.
“Go away.” I started to roll onto my stomach, but he rose onto his knees and came down over me, bracing his hands on either side of me, challenge in his eyes. He was only inches away and I still felt nothing.
That should have worried me because Flynn always made me feel something.
“What’s wrong? If you’re hurting or having problems with your head or something, tell me now and I’ll drive you to the hospital. Otherwise, you’re going to tell me why in the hell Paul called me—me, not Edward—and said I should come talk to you.”
I blinked at him. Paul had called him?
And he’d come?
Shoving at his chest, I tried to sit up. It took more effort than I liked and I recalled how I’d told myself I had to move if I wanted to regain my strength. It had mattered…yesterday. How could twenty-four hours make such a difference?
Gripping the edge of the chaise in my hands, I glared at him and that took almost as much of an effort as sitting up had. “I’m fine. You can go. Tell Paul to go to hell.”
“You tell him. I’m not your messenger boy, Tennessee.” His blue eyes were hard. But then he reached out and touched my cheek with gentle fingers, a rough sigh escaping him. “What’s wrong, Gabs?”
It was the first time he’d ever called me that.
Something about the way his eyes had softened cracked me and I started to sob. These tears were different. They weren’t the slow endless tears of earlier. This was a torrential flood, something that felt like poison tearing out of me and I couldn’t stop it.
I didn’t know when he moved to sit down next to me and I didn’t know how I ended up in his lap. I didn’t know how my head ended up on his shoulder or when I started to cling to him. I didn’t even know how long I cried.
Eventually, though, the storm ended. Storms always did.
Sometimes they left the air feeling clean and fresh, beautiful, as though everything ugly and bitter had been washed away, but other times, it just left the world looking ugly and broken, a million little pieces of detritus littering the way.
That was how I felt when the tears passed. The emptiness was back again, and it was somehow worse. Listless, I sat there, staring at nothing, only vaguely aware of anything that didn’t have to do with the hole inside of me or Flynn. His hand moved up and down my back. His chest rose up and down with his breathing. His cheek rested on top of my head.
“Now you’re going to tell me what’s wrong,” he said quietly. “Because if you don’t, I’ll have to call Edward.”
I stiffened and started to pull away, but his arms just tightened.
I didn’t even have the strength to fight him. I slumped against him. “Call him, and do what? Show him the fucking pictures?” I tried to sound defiant, but I just sounded…broken. Sad. Defeated.
“No. Call him and tell him that you just spent the past half hour or so sobbing in my arms. I think he’d want to know.”
Yeah. He probably would. And he’d want to fix it. But Edward couldn’t fix this, because what was wrong was me. Me. And he wanted to change me. But changing would break me.
Slowly, I lifted my head and met Flynn’s gaze. I’d never seen him look so kind. He brushed my hair back from my face.
In that moment, I felt that powerful punch again, the draw that I’d felt toward him from the very beginning. I felt. I tried to look away, but he cupped my cheek and kept me from turning.
“What’s hurt you, Tennessee? I can’t promise I can fix it, but maybe just talking about it will help.”
That simple offer undid me and I found myself talking. Slowly at first, and then quicker. The words came pouring out almost as violently as my tears had, my hands fisting and clenching in his T-shirt while he continued stroking up and down my back.
When I finished, Flynn dipped his head, staring down as though taking in everything I said. Then, after a few moments, he eased me off his lap and stood up.
He paced away and stared outside, his hands on his hips. When he finally spoke, his voice was curiously flat, contained. “I’ll get in touch with Cody, let him know what Mom is doing. He won’t be happy. He’ll call you soon.” Then he flicked a look at me and added, “Be prepared for her to unload, because I’m going to have it out with her.”
Then he went back to staring outside, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. I waited, daring to hope that wasn’t all he had to say. As much as talking to Cody would help, that wasn’t what had me so torn inside, and now that I’d told someone, I needed an opinion. I needed to know if I was out of line, if I was crazy. Women were supposed to want that kind of man, right? The rich, gorgeous man who took care of them and shielded them from everything bad. Was I wrong to not want it too?
Finally, Flynn turned, crossing his arms over his chest. Dark hair spilled into his eyes as he cocked his head. “About Edward…?” His mouth flattened into a line. “Fuck him.”
My eyes went wide. That hadn’t been what I’d expected.
He came closer and went to his knees in front of me, staring at me with an express
ion so intent, it made my heart start to race. He touched my cheek, a quick, fleeting brush that seemed to sizzle all the way through me.
I felt.
His voice was low, husky. “You’re one of the strongest, most amazing people I’ve ever met, Tennessee. Are you really going to let my asshole brother get in the way of your dreams?” While I took in his words, he rose. Then he bent over me and murmured softly, “If he really loves you, he’d be pushing you to chase them, not trying to keep you from them.”
He left then, not saying another word.
Bowing my head, I covered my face with my hands and struggled to breathe.
I felt.
Twenty-One
I didn’t go to the study I normally shared with Edward.
It was his study, his place. Not mine.
I did make one quick stop to get my laptop and then I went back to the only place in the house that felt like it belonged to me. I didn’t know if it was the view of the garden or the fact that no one really used it, but it was one of the few places where I didn’t feel like I was intruding on Edward’s space.
It was already three and I doubted I’d have much time, but I had to make some headway on the work I’d trashed. Flynn was right. I couldn’t let anyone get in the way of my dreams, not even Edward.
“Miss Gabriella.”
Paul stood in the doorway, his expression calm.
I flushed as I met his eyes. Embarrassment and self-consciousness flooded me, even as gratitude had me fumbling with the words I knew I needed to say. Most people would have called Edward, if they’d thought to call anybody at all. Yet somehow, this man who had become a friend, had managed to make the one call I would never have thought to make. And it had been the perfect one. Flynn had settled the chaos in me and given me back all of the strength and confidence that Edward and Claire had summarily stolen.
“I…um. I wanted to thank you—”
He shook his head, but a ghost of a smile passed across his face. “I’m happy to see you up and moving.” Then he nodded at the computer. “And working. I thought these might be useful. Helen said they’d been misplaced…?”
Confused, I waited as he came over to me, carrying a leather briefcase. It was a beautiful shade of hot pink and immediately, I coveted the bag. It was the kind of thing I would’ve wanted to buy for myself when I made it to a real job. But then I saw what he was pulling out and I forgot about the bag. My eyes started to burn as I realized what it was.
Helen had gotten my work out of the trash.
When I looked up at him, he arched a brow. “Sometimes we get caught up in the chaos of a day and misplace things, don’t we?”
“Yes.” I nodded, swiping at my eyes.
“We thought perhaps this bag would make it easier to keep track of your work.” He held it out and I took it, clutching it to my chest as though it had been made of hammered gold and dreams. My dreams.
“Thank you.” I could barely speak around the lump in my throat.
As he left, I sat back down. I gave myself a minute to calm my thoughts.
Then I got to work.
I had dreams to chase.
I set my alarm to go off the next morning ten minutes after Edward’s so he’d be in the shower when I woke up. We’d shared a mostly silent meal the night before and I hadn’t wanted to discuss anything with him then. I’d needed to figure out the right way to approach things. Now, after a night of sleeping on it, I still wasn’t sure if there was a right way, but I knew what the right words were.
Flynn had given them to me.
When Edward came out of the shower, I was laying out my clothes on the bed and I was awake enough to have the conversation.
He paused, studying me. “Do you have plans today?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.” Taking a deep breath, I looked at him. My tone was even, but firm. “I’m sorry. I know you want what you think is best for me, and I appreciate that, but you don’t know what’s best. I do. I’m going out to find work. Not some menial job because I need money, but one that will help me pursue the only career I’ve ever wanted.”
His eyebrows came down over his eyes in a straight line and his jaw tensed. When he opened his mouth—to try again to talk me out of this, to guilt me out of it, I knew—I held up a hand.
“Please, don’t,” I said gently. “If you love me, Edward, why would you try to keep me from chasing my dreams?”
He flinched.
Several moments passed before he spoke and when he did, it was with great care and precision. “I would never try to keep you from pursuing your dreams, Gabriella. I understand your writing is important to you, but why can’t you do it from here? Why does it have to be now?”
“If not now, then when?” I countered softly. “My mom always had plans to go back to school, but life happened. We happened. Look at us. We were supposed to get married, and the wreck happened. And what if that had been it? The end? And I never had the chance to try? This is my chance, Edward. And if you love me, you’ll understand that I need to do this.”
He looked at me steadily for a minute before speaking again, “Why do I feel like I’m being forced into accepting this?”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything.” I shook my head, my chest tightening. I hadn’t truly expected him to change his mind, but a small part of me had hoped for it. Gathering up my clothes, I moved around him into the bathroom. “It just seems like you can only be happy if I’m locked up here, protected and hidden from life. Even if doing that will break me. I can’t be happy like that, Edward. It’s not who I am, and changing to be that sort of person...” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t be me anymore.”
I closed the door without looking at him. I’d made my decision.
Either we could live with it…or there wouldn’t be a we.
The good news was that overnight, two people had responded to my inquiries.
The bad news was that only one of them was even remotely interested and that had more to do with my connection to the Bouvier family than my skills. Between being engaged to Edward and having been in the accident with Cody, complete with the overly romanticized coma, I was a bit of a minor celebrity at the moment.
It would pass, but I was too smart not to utilize it.
When the assistant producer agreed to meet me for coffee at the end of the week, I still considered it a win and mapped out a plan for the rest of the day. I knew how things like this worked. I could email all I wanted and send out scripts all I wanted. Sometimes, though, opportunity happened when you made it happen.
I was going to go out and hit some of the smaller production companies in the area too though. I had the names of a few and some minor, casual acquaintances. It was time to start networking. It was sad but true that it often mattered more who you knew than your talent.
Paul was at the door with the car within moments of my texting him and when I walked out, he was smiling at me.
“Were you waiting for me?”
“Yes.” He held out a hand for my bag and I turned it over to him. The thing was heavy and I was already getting tired.
I doubted I’d be able to do much more than a couple of hours, but at least I’d be doing something to move forward. Despite Edward’s lack of support, I was feeling better than I had in a long time.
“How’d you know I’d be doing this today?” I asked him before getting into the car. Maybe Edward had experienced a change of heart while I was getting ready. He’d been gone before I’d come out of the bathroom, but maybe this was his way of telling me that he was okay with it, even if he didn’t understand.
“Because you’re too stubborn to give up on what you really want.” He nodded at the open door and gave me a smile. “Your coffee is waiting.”
I returned his smile and shoved aside the stab of disappointment that it hadn’t been Edward’s doing. I slid inside, sighing in pleasure as I saw the mug of coffee he had put in the cup holder for me. I picked it up and took a sip as he settled in behind the wheel.
Perfect.
We were pulling down the drive within seconds and headed off into the canyons of Manhattan within moments. I didn’t know how the day was going to turn out, but for the first time in what seemed like way too long, I was actually excited about being awake.
Three hours and four stops later, I had to call it quits. It wasn’t as much as I’d hoped to do, but I’d made two connections and had one solid appointment, two maybes. Okay, there had been one flat no, but so what? I’d been doing this long enough to know just how good that percentage was.
“I missed this,” I said as Paul merged into the traffic of the city.
“Missed what?”
“This. Going out, talking to other people in the industry.” I laughed wearily and rubbed at my temples. “Not that I’m really in the industry right now. I barely had my foot on the first rung when I quit my job to...do freelancing.”
“Of course.” Paul’s voice was bland. “Freelancing.”
I shot him a narrow look, wondering how much he knew. Considering he’d called Flynn, it was probably more than I was comfortable with, but I wasn’t going to ask. In this instance, I was going the whole ‘ignorance is bliss’ route.
Resting my head against the padded leather seat, I stared out at the rush of the city, brooding. How much time had I lost with wedding plans? Preparing for a wedding that still hadn’t truly felt like mine?
In that moment, I had to admit the truth. I was preparing for a wedding I didn’t even want. A life I didn’t want.
“I’m making a mistake,” I said softly.
“Everybody makes them,” Paul said evenly.
I shot my gaze to his. Haltingly, I said, “I don’t mean my writing.”
“I know.” He nodded, his eyes on the road. He took a left and I looked around, registering where we were.
My heart started to pound.
Flynn’s studio was here. Just a few blocks up. I started to twist the strap of the pink briefcase Paul and Helen had given me. “Paul?” I whispered.
