by Jillian Dodd
“And you should see a doctor about the size of your ego.”
“You’re probably right about that too.”
He goes back to rubbing my feet, which is what he was doing when we started this conversation. If it wasn’t for him, I would be halfway through a bottle of vodka by now.
“So, you think this is going to be okay?” I ask, afraid to hope.
“I think it’s going to be better than okay. I think this is going to be one of those things that flares up out of nowhere and then goes away. The guy is a loser. Always has been. The public is going to take this for what it is: a last-ditch effort at getting his name out there. A pathetic jerk trying to cling to the last scraps of fame. I guess you know by now that his comeback tour fizzled out.”
“I have to say, I wasn’t paying attention.” That was a deliberate move on my part. I didn’t want to hear or read his name ever again. Knowing he got drunk enough to fall off the party boat rented by Hayley’s firm made me laugh pretty hard, but that was as far as I was willing to go.
“Let’s just say, I kept my eye out for mentions of his name.” When I raise an eyebrow, he sighs. “Okay, so I had a Google Alert set for his name. Sue me.”
“That’s actually very sweet.”
“You think so? Because I didn’t exactly have very sweet things in mind when I did it.” He might be rubbing a little harder than he needs to, but I know it’s only a reflection of what’s going on in his head. Nothing nice or pleasant, and it’s all because of me. For my sake.
“You know … we have a lot of things to talk about.” I keep my voice even, light.
“We do.”
“So … should we start talking?” I ask.
“I thought we were talking already.”
“You being a smart-ass makes me want to kill you. Still. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“And now that we’ve kissed in front of a bunch of witnesses, they’ll believe I would never do such a thing to you. We’re in love and everything. So, that’s my defense.”
“It’s obvious you write romance and not mystery or thriller books. The significant other is always the first person the cops look at. Watch a true crime show.”
“Shut up.”
“Anyway, you want to talk about us. Is that where this is going? You wanna know what happens next?”
“Um, yeah. Don’t you?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“You guess?” I sit up straight and take my feet back, tucking them under me.
“No, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t pull back just because I’m not giving you the answer you want to hear. The fact is, I don’t know what happens next. Isn’t it enough to let things unfold the way they’re supposed to unfold?”
“No!”
He bursts out laughing. “Then, I don’t know what to tell you. You can’t be in control of everything. That’s not how life works.”
I sigh.
“But I do have a few ideas, Valentine,” he says with a grin.
“What kind of ideas, Ryder? Because I hate waking up and not having you there.”
“Well, we do have very different schedules. I don’t expect you to change yours because of me.”
“Will you run off after we have sex though? That’s what I want to know. I don’t like waking up alone with no warning.”
He slides over on the couch and pulls me into his arms. “No, I won’t run off after we have sex. And I haven’t. I let you sleep. And you knew exactly where I was.”
“Are we going to keep both apartments?” I blurt out.
“Uh …” He sounds surprised, maybe a little taken aback.
“I don’t think it’s a bad question.” I push away from his chest and look at him.
“I like my space.”
“Doesn’t it seem silly for us to be together and still have separate apartments that are next door to each other? Like wasteful almost?”
His frown makes my heart hurt.
“You’re talking about moving in together,” he says slowly.
“Yes. Combining our living spaces and saving ourselves a mortgage payment by getting rid of one of the apartments.”
“But with our schedules being so different, doesn’t it make more sense for us to have our own space? For when it’s four thirty and you’re only just wrapping up your work for the night while I’m on my way out for a run after sleeping for several hours?”
“I guess so.”
“And when you’re sleeping and I’m working? Or when I’m sleeping and you’re cursing out the character who won’t tell you what to have them do next?”
“I don’t do that.”
“You’ve done it. I’ve heard you.”
“Okay. Maybe once, but that’s it.”
“You get my point.” He’s laughing as he pulls me in for another hug. “Let me think about it, okay?”
Maybe I’m overthinking this. Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last, but I’m a little hurt by his response. In a book, he would wrap his arms around me, swing me through the air in happiness, kiss me, and tell me living together would make him the happiest man in the world. Like what Nicholas did for Hayley the other day.
“Yeah. Sure,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Good.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I basically felt like a total idiot. The man had a complete deer-in-headlights look, and I was sure he was going to tell me this was all a mistake. That we’re not meant to last. I mean, who wants a girlfriend who’s always pushing just a little too hard?”
“You didn’t push too hard. You asked completely normal questions. I envy you.”
I wince at the sad note in Hayley’s voice. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this.”
“Nonsense. I’m still your best friend. This is what I do.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. You don’t have to avoid talking about the biggest thing in your life just because Nicholas is gone.” Her voice cracks a little on that last word. I figure it’s my duty as her best friend to pretend like I didn’t hear it.
I know her. I know the more I insist she talk about it, the worse she’ll feel. She’ll get mad at me for pushing and even more upset over missing her man, which will make her angrier until she bursts out crying at work.
Granted, I called her in the middle of the morning to check in and make sure she was okay, but that doesn’t mean I have to add insult to injury. I only indulged her by answering her Matt questions because it was obvious she wanted to talk about something else.
I won’t bother asking about her transfer. Or what she and Nicholas decided to do about her job and living arrangements. If she wants to tell me, she will.
“Where are you right now?” she asks as I walk into a home store a few blocks from my place.
“I’m just out, wandering around. Shopping. Trying to cheer myself up after the disaster that was my interview, followed by the disaster that was my conversation with Matt.”
“You shouldn’t worry about that. Dustin was an ass. I can’t believe I ever crushed on him.”
“Yeah, me neither. I’m thinking a new rug for my kitchen and some candles.”
“Oh, candles always make me feel better. And wine—except now … no wine.”
“Do you want to talk about all that?”
“Not right now. I’m still processing. We’re still processing.”
“He had an amazing reaction though. Seriously, Hayley. It was the kind of scene I could have written in one of my books.”
“He did. It made me feel good. Really good.”
“I think that’s kind of why I’m bummed about Matt.”
“Because you didn’t get the reaction you wanted? You shouldn’t be, Kitty. You can’t control everything. And I should know. I’ve tried to.”
“But I shouldn’t be bummed?” I ask, stopping to smell a pink gr
apefruit candle.
“No, I’m changed. I’m going to let fate decide. Wait to see if I get the transfer before freaking out. Once I know, then I’ll deal with it. Scratch that. We’ll deal with it.”
“Good plan. I’m actually going to do the same, believe it or not. If and when Matt wants us to move in together, he can let me know. I will not speak of it again.”
I pick up another candle and smell it. “What do you think? Pink Grapefruit for a fresh, clean scent, or should I go full-on holiday spirit with Cinnamon Pine?”
“Pine,” she says.
I drop it in the little basket I picked up by the door.
“Excuse me. Aren’t you that writer?”
I turn at the sound of a voice just over my shoulder. It makes me jump a little too, as I didn’t notice a person standing so close to me.
“Everything okay?” Hayley asks.
I hold up a finger to the girl standing with me—she’s young, maybe in her late teens—and tell Hayley I’ll call her back.
I turn to the girl. “Sorry. You were asking if I’m a writer?”
Her head bobs up and down. “Yeah. I saw you on Hugh Pearson’s show. I thought it was bullshit, the way he put you on the spot.”
“That’s nice of you to say.” I mean, sort of. Not the way she said it, but the sentiment behind it.
Then, I notice a second girl standing halfway down the aisle with her phone held out in front of her. She’s recording this along with a couple of friends who are wearing wide smiles.
“Um, sorry, but could you not do that?” I ask them as gently as I can.
The girl looks up at me from her phone screen. “It’s just to post on my feed. No big deal.”
“I would rather you didn’t, please.” I can’t believe this.
I want to hold my hand in front of my face to hide myself, though it occurs to me that I haven’t done anything to warrant hiding. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m shopping for candles, for goodness’ sake.
“It’s publicity for you. You deserve to be heard, Kitty.”
Where do they even get off, calling me by my first name like we’re friends? I don’t know them, and I don’t want them knowing my personal business.
But it’s too late for that, isn’t it? Just like my dad used to say, “You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.”
I’ve been trying to ignore the publicity stuff. I haven’t checked in on what Dustin has been saying about me, about our relationship. It’s easier to ignore it for the sake of my sanity—not to mention, my blood pressure. I’m too young to have a stroke over this, and Dustin isn’t worth it.
Looks like there’s only so much I can ignore.
“What’s happening here?” One of the store employees finds us and looks concerned when she sizes up what’s going on.
Then, something changes in her expression. Her eyes widen a little. “Oh, it’s you! I saw something about you on TV this morning. There was a story about that musician—”
“Please. I don’t want to talk about that.” I try to elbow my way past the girl as gently as I can, knowing I’m being recorded the whole time. “Just let me by, please.”
“Wait! Don’t you want to tell your side of the story?” The girl with the camera is following me down the aisle, right on my heels.
Now, there are a few more people watching, closing in.
Do they know who I am or why this is happening, or are they only curious onlookers?
None of them tries to help me—that’s all I know.
“I can’t talk about it. Please, leave me alone now. I’m just here to shop.” There’s a tremor in my voice, and I hate hearing it, but never in my life have I felt so boxed in.
People are asking questions, muttering to each other. A few of them are snickering like this is a joke, like it’s an amusement rather than an actual person’s actual life.
There’s a restroom in the back, and I just about throw myself inside and lock the door.
Now, I can breathe. Now, I can think, even with my name being called out just on the other side of the cold metal.
So, there are millions of people in Manhattan, and I’ll never be recognized, huh?
That makes me think about Matt, who I text with shaking fingers. I tell him where I am and what happened. Then follow it with: Please, come get me. I can’t face all these people alone.
“Kitty, we only want to help you! It’s so unfair that you don’t get to have your voice heard! What are you trying to hide?”
I close my eyes and barely hold back a whimper.
Whimpering is the last thing I want to do. What I want is to scream at them. To ask who they think they are. What right they have to ask me personal questions, to hound me when I flat-out asked them to leave me alone.
I want to tell them to get lives while I’m at it.
It’s not too long before Matt’s voice joins the ones outside the restroom. “Okay, okay, back off. Leave her alone now. She has nothing to say to you.” Then, close to the door, he says, “It’s me. Come on out.”
I keep my head down and let Matt put an arm around me, holding me close to his side and ushering me through the crowd. There must be twenty people.
What, did they call their friends to join them?
“Enough. Move out of the way. Let us through.” He looks down at the basket I’m still carrying. “I think we can leave this here.”
I forgot all about it. He takes it from me and leaves it by the door before we’re outside.
“You okay?” Matt hands me a cup of tea and perches on the coffee table in front of where I’m currently curled up on the couch.
“I overreacted. I freaked out.”
“There were about two dozen people crowded around that damn restroom door. What were you supposed to do? They didn’t even back off when I asked them to. You’d think we were a pair of criminals, the way they followed us through the store.” He strokes my leg with a frown. “I hate to think of you going through that alone.”
“I didn’t have to though, did I?” I offer what I hope passes for a smile. “You came to my rescue.”
“I’ll always be around to rescue you. I promise.”
“Good, because it seems like I need a lot of rescuing.”
He winks, smirking. “Not like I didn’t already know that.”
“It would be a day without sunshine, wouldn’t it? If you ever missed an opportunity to smirk over something about me?”
“Probably, yeah.”
I wish I could joke around and be lighthearted, but I’m still shaken up. I can’t think of anything but all those people asking questions and wanting to record me for social media. What’s wrong with them?
“Can I ask you something?”
Matt nods at me in response.
“Good. Do you still have that Google Alert set up for Dustin’s name?”
When he growls, I know the answer is yes. Not like I thought he wasn’t keeping tabs, but I thought it made sense to ask.
“So, it’s true about him giving interviews, huh?”
“Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t been hounded a lot worse than what just happened earlier. I didn’t want to say anything about it. I can only imagine Lois and Maggie are both fielding a lot of phone calls right now. Interview requests and all that.”
“So I can tell my side of the story.” I roll my eyes and sink back against the cushions with a sigh. “It’s so stupid. I’m nobody important.”
“That’s not true.”
“But I’m not. I’ve lived in this city my whole life. I’m not one of those famous people.”
“You are now. Maybe not a huge celebrity like a movie star, but you’re a public personality. It’ll die down. We’ll ride this out.”
We. We’ll ride this out.
Matt’s face falls when tears fill my eyes, blurring him a little. I can tell he’s upset though.
“No, no, don’t cry. You’ll be okay. This isn’t forever.”
I only shake m
y head, laughing a little at myself now. Boy, he must think I’m a human roller coaster with all these ups and downs. Then again, he knows me.
“These aren’t sad tears. I’m touched. It means so much to hear you say that.”
“It’s the truth. You and me, right?”
When he says it like that and holds my hand, I can’t help but believe him. Good thing, too, because I really want to.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“And here we are in Sicily. We ate the most incredible fresh seafood there.” My grandmother closes her eyes with a faint, satisfied smile. “It came directly from the sea. I’ve never been so impressed.”
“It looks pretty … simple.” I don’t know a better way to say what immediately comes to mind when I look through these pictures from Grandmother’s honeymoon.
“You mean, it looks like something I would never do. Be honest.”
I glance up at her from the stack of photos—honestly, it’s cute, the fact that she had actual photos printed—with a wince. “Sorry. I have a hard time imagining you in a rented house, eating seaside at a shack of a restaurant.”
“Life is more than The Plaza, dear.”
“Tell me you didn’t sometimes wish you were traveling a little fancier.”
She sighs. “Once or twice. But honestly, we had the richest, most wonderful experiences. Dancing until the wee hours of the morning in Barcelona. Eating gelato on the Spanish Steps. We took our time, rested whenever we wished, dined fabulously, and met so many lovely people. I can’t wait to get back.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere, all of it.”
She’s definitely my grandmother. I would’ve said the same thing. Why choose only one when everything is amazing?
Peter’s chuckling when he joins us. “Don’t let this one fool you with this talk of resting. She walked my feet off.”
“I don’t recall hearing you complain.”
The smile they share makes my heart swell. They’re the sweetest thing. After the last few days since being rescued by Matt at the store, I need something to take my mind off my troubles.
Sure, having him by my side is an incredible gift, but even he can’t make everything better. He doesn’t own a magic wand. Lois called three times this morning alone to update me on yet another series of interviews, all of which will be on camera.
