Tell Me Why It's Wrong

by B. Celeste

  Garrick’s eyes are focused forward, staring off at the wall across the room, lost in whatever thoughts are circulating in his head. It’s hard to decipher the emotions he must be feeling, because he keeps a steady grip on the mask he’s always wearing.

  The one of sarcasm.

  Humor.

  Indifference.

  Who are you, Garrick Matthews?

  When his head turns, he leans it against the upholstered headboard behind him and blinks lazily. “It’s hard to face people when you don’t know what they’ll say, and you can never properly prepare yourself for it because anything can happen. But that doesn’t mean you can avoid them forever. That goes for the people who will be shouting our names and shoving cameras in our faces when we leave the house, which we’ll have to do eventually, and the people you’ve been ignoring on your phone who actually give a shit about your wellbeing.”

  Heat settles into my cheeks. “I don’t want them to be mad at me.”

  “So what if they are? It’ll likely only be for a little while. They’re your family, Rylee, you can’t avoid them forever. They mean too much to you, I know they do.”

  How can he say that with so much certainty? “I’ll never understand how your brain works.”

  The subtle smile is almost unrecognizable on his face because it’s not full of humor or charm. It’s light and genuine, comforting. “Trust me, you don’t want to understand my brain. It’ll save your sanity.” He bumps our shoulders together. “If my family can forgive me for the things I’ve done, then yours can forgive you for this. You got married, Ry, you didn’t do drugs or get arrested or hurt anyone. This isn’t the end of the world, no matter how people out there try making it be.”

  My heart reacts to the nickname. “Moffie calls me Ry.”

  His brows go up. “Should I call you something else?”

  Quickly, I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. My friends call me that.”

  A small grin tilts his lips. “Are you telling me we’re friends?”

  I shrug. “Friends. Married. You cleaned up my vomit, and very few people can say the same.”

  He chuckles. “Fine. Friends. Though I can’t say I kiss many of mine. Or marry them for that matter.”

  The word ‘friend’ is simple enough, but the meaning is less so. There’s a stigma to it, expectations. And I’m worried I can’t fulfill them because the only other friend I’ve ever had is Moffie and she’s used to me by now.

  He fidgets for a moment, eyes going to me, then away like he’s debating something. If he’s already regretting the loose label, it’s the quickest friendship I’ve ever had.

  “What?” I ask nervously.

  His head turns to me, but when he looks in my direction it doesn’t seem like he sees me. I wait until a few seconds go by, only to watch him shake his head. “It’s not important,” he decides.

  I’m not sure if I believe him, but I don’t push him either—because part of me is afraid of what’s casting the shadow over his features, and the other part of me is worried I won’t be able to do anything about it.

  “I don’t kiss my friends either,” I tell him, unsure of why I felt the need to divulge that.

  “Are you sure you want that label?”

  He’s giving me an opportunity to open this up to more, and the way he’s pressed against me, his musky, manly scent wrapping around my heart and tugging, makes me want to consider the option. “I’m not sure what label works for us,” I admit, resting my head back.

  “Fair.”

  “We’re not like a lot of people.”

  “True.”

  “There’s a lot to learn,” I remark.

  He nods along.

  I’m quiet, contemplative. Uncertainty has a way of gripping you until you don’t know up from down. “But I think friends is safer.” It’s a soft statement, full of caution and reluctance because certain parts of me would love to explore more.

  But more with Garrick Matthews seems dangerous, even if Moffie thinks I should live a little and let him show me what he knows.

  My inexperience is probably what’s masking every other desire to kiss him the way he kissed me. Like I want it—need it. I chalk it up to pent up frustration and file it under things to distract myself over so I don’t jump his bones.

  Friends, I tell myself.

  “You’re probably right,” he murmurs.

  He doesn’t seem to believe it though, and it makes me feel bad. The last thing I want to do is hurt his feelings or somehow mess whatever this is up. It’ll make leaving ten times harder when our time is up, and I have to leave. All the warnings I’ve been given by his family is fresh in my mind because I know they’re right.

  Garrick doesn’t deserve to be mistreated, and maybe me telling him ‘no’ and keeping this at bay is what’s best to preserve both our feelings for the future.

  I think back to my conversation with Chase the other day. “I never wanted to do him any harm by writing about him.”

  “Doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

  Garrick’s brows furrow when I frown, sinking into the spot I occupy and wrapping my arms around myself for comfort. “About what you said, earlier… I have hurt people, and I’ll hurt my parents even more when they find out about us…about this.”

  Even thinking about whether there’s an ‘us’ is hard to say. Not even two months ago there was barely a me, just a frail version not much more than a ghost drifting through life.

  He doesn’t grace me with an answer.

  Doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay.

  He offers me silence.

  Like he knows it’s exactly what I need.

  17

  Rylee

  Grandma Birdie used to say that challenges make you strive, and trials make you strong, but I’m not sure what words of wisdom she’d give me now. If she were here, she’d be throwing a tantrum while listening to the same garbage I’m subjecting myself to before Grandpa Al would come tell us to stop torturing ourselves.

  “This is definitely the story of the season,” the woman on the screen says to her co-host, each one putting on pretty faces for the cameras. “Who would have thought someone could tame a man like Garrick Matthews?”

  I roll my eyes, stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork. “He’s not a lion,” I grumble, hearing a soft snort come from Chase sitting on the loveseat across the room.

  Her co-host turns from her to the camera, a Cheshire Cat smile on her face. “The question is, how long can Rylee Simmons keep him in check. The lead singer of Violet Wonders was just seen coming out of a club last month with a young woman looking awfully intimate. Without any statements from Matthews or his new bride, we have no details that support their relationship is going to withstand the pressures of his fame. It wouldn’t be the first time our favorite rock star was caught cheating.”

  The pretty brunette laughs like the idea of his infidelity is amusing to her. “It could be another short-lived Hollywood romance. Who has the record for quickest breakup?”

  “There was the seven-day marriage from one of the Reiner twins,” the redhead remarks, crossing her legs elegantly. “But the court documents from the newest couple were signed over a week ago, so at least they won’t be breaking any world records if they decided to split.”

  The women’s chit-chat fade as their show cuts to commercial, making me scowl at my half-eaten food. Since it wasn’t my idea to put this on, I ask, “Why do you watch this stuff? It can’t be fun listening to people bash your brother.”

  When all I hear is the clicking of computer keys, I glance up to see him heavily focused on his laptop.

  “If you’re not even paying attention, I’ll change the channel to—”

  “Garrick used to watch these shows,” he tells me, eyes not lifting off whatever work he’s plastered to. “It used to drive Mom nuts because she could see what it did to him, but he said he’d rather know what they were saying so he was prepared and not walking in blind.”

  Shifting on
the couch, I adjust the plate in my hands and feel my appetite slip away. Garrick hired a few trusted people to come bring me into town to run errands, and the cameras followed relentlessly. I was advised by Garrick’s team not to engage, to keep my head down, but it was hard when people were shouting at me from every which way as I filled my prescriptions at the pharmacy counter. The manager of the store had to get help escorting people out and looking none too happy about the added work in his day.

  Maybe if I read whatever is being said about me, I’d know what to expect next time I have to leave the house, bodyguards alongside me or not. “I guess that makes sense.”

  Chase’s eyes lift. “If you weren’t curious, you wouldn’t be sitting here enduring it. You’re like him, you want to know.”

  I start to refute, but he eyes me in challenge which shuts me down. My shoulders drop as I settle into the couch cushions. “Do you think people believe this?”

  “What?”

  I point my fork at the TV. “What they’re saying about Garrick. I haven’t even known him long and he’s not like they say. And if everyone thinks he’s a cheater, there’s no way they’re going to buy into us being in a healthy relationship.”

  His head tilts. “Why do you care?”

  I gape. “What?”

  “Why do you care about what they think? It’s not important. You said it yourself, Garrick isn’t like what the press says. All that matters is who his inner circle knows he is. Plus, you guys didn’t do this for people to think you’re in a healthy relationship anyway. You’re using each other. Let it go.”

  My head dips, hair shielding my face as I suck in a deep breath. Am I part of that? His inner circle has been people he’s known for years, ones he trusts unconditionally. He’s never made me prove myself worthy of his trust, but that doesn’t mean he has any for me.

  “Ah.” He closes his laptop. “This is because of your parents, right? You’re trying to convince yourself that they’ll believe this is the real deal so they won’t feel so bad.”

  My eyes peek through my lashes. “How do you know about that?”

  “Uh, because I have ears.” His tone comes off as dumbfounded. “You waited until Garrick left to meet his manager before you started pacing around and talking to someone about what you’re going to do about your mom and dad.”

  He’s referring to the conversation I had with Moffie after I realized I couldn’t keep conveniently missing my parents’ calls. Between my best friend and Garrick, I’d sucked it up and answered on the third ring when Dad’s name popped up on my screen.

  Dad meant business. “Come home, or we’re coming to you.”

  Considering my options were limited, I’d bought a plane ticket for three days from now and told them when I’d arrive. It’s better than them coming here and being part of the circus show surrounding Garrick’s house. Even with the extra security making sure nobody gets in, people still haven’t relented. Every morning there are people lingering outside with their camera bags on their shoulders and eyes on the house.

  With only one way on and off the property, it means going through the people who instantly point their lenses at you like you’re their next meal ticket. And speaking from personal experience, it’s probably true.

  “I don’t know what I’m walking into,” I tell him, crisscrossing my legs. Normally my parents don’t make it a secret that they’re upset by something I’ve done, but it’s been almost complete radio silence since I confirmed my trip to see them. I have no clue what’s going to happen when I see them at the airport or what they’ll say when I show them the ring. The last thing I want is for them to be disappointed, but I can’t expect anything less.

  The twenty-one-year-old is reflective for a moment before he sets his laptop on the cushion beside him and props an ankle over his opposite knee. “Does my brother know that you’re going?”

  Slowly, I shake my head.

  “He’s going to want to.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “Because this is as much his problem as it is yours. You faced our mom, so it’s only fair he faces yours. I’d bet money that he’ll be upset you didn’t talk to him before making plans.”

  I make a face. “He’s got plenty of things going on here. The band is recording their new album—”

  “You’ll only be gone for a few days max.”

  “Violet Wonders is doing an interview on Midnight Madness.”

  “Which they can postpone or do without him,” he counters again.

  I give him an unamused look. “His responsibility isn’t to me, Chase.”

  Of course, he has a dispute. “You’re married, Rylee. You’re both responsible for each other. Tell him when he gets back. It’s better than him finding out after you left.”

  My nose twitches. “I wouldn’t just up and leave.”

  He stares in disbelief.

  “I wouldn’t!”

  “You don’t like confrontation,” he states.

  “So? He’s done a lot for me.”

  He picks up his computer again. “All I’m saying is that if you want my advice, you should talk to Garrick about your plans later. Rip the Band-Aid off. The hard part is already over.”

  “Getting married?”

  He cracks a wider smile. “Living to tell the tale of meeting our mom. Very few women can say the same. She made one cry once. It wasn’t pretty. Snot everywhere.”

  I gawk at him.

  Amusement settles on his face. “It’s true. My ex blocked me on her phone and all her social media after her and my mom had a one-on-one conversation. Mom still won’t tell me what they talked about, but whatever it was clearly didn’t go well. Don’t think she’s not still cautious of you. She doesn’t dislike you, but she isn’t going to be waving any foam fingers your way until she knows for sure.”

  “If she knows what for sure?”

  “Who you are. What you want.”

  Panic seizes my heart.

  He must not sense it. “If anything, you’re in a comfortable position with her.”

  I let out a choppy breath. “Am I supposed to know what you’re saying?”

  “You’ve intrigued the great Elaine Matthews,” he states simply. “She’s going to be watching you, and that’s not a bad thing. We’re a loyal family. All it takes is one small indication that Garrick feels something for you to have her protection.”

  My eyes widen. “You don’t mean…”

  “What I mean,” he replies slowly, like I’m a five-year-old in need of thorough explanation, “is that you shouldn’t be worried if your parents believe this thing between you and my brother is real. If my mom thinks it is, it’s because there’s something believable to be seen no matter what these idiots are saying in the media.”

  Having no idea what to say, I choose to finish eating my lunch despite my lack of appetite. Chase goes back to work the same time the show comes on again, leaving me absentmindedly watching the women banter about the state of my current relationship.

  She’s a gold digger.

  She’s not even that pretty.

  It’ll never last.

  And the problem is, they’re right about more than one thing.

  When the doorbell rings a few hours after Chase leaves to finalize some paperwork with a real estate agent, I’m not sure what to do. Nobody said anything about people coming over, though I’ve noticed Garrick’s team tends to show up whenever he dodges their calls. I met his manager Michael shortly after the article of our marriage went viral and it didn’t go well. There was a lot of glaring and backhanded compliments from him to me.

  Garrick threatened to fire him if he made one more comment and I know the heated calls he’s been having back and forth with him hasn’t indicated their relationship has improved any.

  I don’t get the chance to decide on how to proceed when I hear someone entering the digits into the keypad on the door.

  Then it opens.

  I’m gaping by the stairs as Zayne walks in, lookin
g exactly as I remember. Same short, sandy blond hair a shade or so lighter than mine, and those whiskey eyes that made me stupid the second they checked me out.

  And they’re pointed right at me.

  His style hasn’t gone anywhere either—jeans and a fitted tee that probably has stains on it from working on a new project in his garage, black leather jacket, and worn black boots. Casual. Laid back. Just like him.

  I take a step backward until I almost trip on the first stair step. “Garrick isn’t here.”

  He rakes a hand through his hair, looking back at the partially open door before sighing and closing it. “I figured as much when he didn’t answer the door or his phone. Chase?”

  I simply shake my head.

  “Christ,” he grumbles.

  Nudging my bare toes against the runner on the stairs, I rub my lips together as the drummer of Violet Wonders stares at me. I’m not sure what he sees, how he feels, but there’s no resentment on his face. In fact, there’s nothing.

  Maybe a flicker of surprise, but once he realized it was me it went away in a heartbeat.

  “Zayne—”

  “I should have called,” he says at the same time. He scratches the side of his neck before jabbing his thumb behind him. “I can go. I just thought I’d talk to Garrick. Spontaneous decision.”

  “You used to make a lot of those,” I note in familiarity, regretting it the second the words are out.

  His expression drops. “Yeah. Turns out you did too. How much money did you get off of those pictures anyway? Must have been a great payday for you.”

  My stomach twists. “Zayne—”

  “There’s nothing you can say to me,” he cuts me off, not sounding angry but resigned. “I don’t want to hear you’re sorry because I can tell you are. It’s all over your face. And I know you were going through some shit, even if you barely talked about it. Garrick mentioned your situation when he explained things the other day to me. For the record, I’m sorry you’re struggling.”