“Hayes.” I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. You’re right.
But nothing comes out, because maybe I’m scared. Maybe what I feel is so damn strong, which explains why I’m hesitating even though every single part of me is telling me to go full steam ahead. Maybe that’s why I can’t tell him to get here as soon as he can.
“Agreed,” he murmurs, followed by a chuckle that’s both seductive and heartwarming. “I agree to everything you just thought but didn’t say out loud. But, no. Not yet. You said you needed space. Time. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. So I’m going to give them to you, Saylor. Ten days to be exact. Two hundred forty hours where you can’t talk to me.” He pauses momentarily. “Fourteen thousand, four hundred minutes—yes, don’t laugh, I just had to do that math on my calculator—of time where I’m going to prove to you why you can’t live without me. Why the stories and tabloids don’t mean shit. And how public opinion can be turned when you try hard enough.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes. I do. This is as much my fault as it is Jenna’s. I’ve had a lot of time to think since a certain someone won’t return my calls, and I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I let it happen. Maybe I pushed Jenna’s buttons to prove a point. I was too selfish thinking about how badly I wanted to shut her up and figure out how to seduce you, to know what it would feel like to sleep with you again, that I didn’t give a thought about how she could retaliate. So, I’m sorry, Saylor. I fucked up. I played right into the studio’s game and perfectly into Jenna’s hand. So forgive me if I’m taking the reins when it comes to us, but I’m not taking a chance on this outcome. I’m giving you my A-game . . . I just hope you can handle it.”
I feel like I haven’t taken a breath during his entire speech. My chest burns and my heart hopes. My mind races with possibility while my cheeks hurt from smiling. Hayes Whitley just told me he loves me. I know he didn’t say the three little words, but he said them nonetheless.
“What if I already know—?”
“Nope. Don’t say it. Words are cheap. Action is everything. Ten days, Saylor. Ten days and then I’ll listen to you all you want. Until then, once this conversation is over, mum’s the word since day one starts now.”
My laughter sounds like relief. My heart feels content, which is different from two days ago where I felt lost, confused, exposed, and betrayed. We had both needed this time to evaluate what was real and what was not, and I’m so incredibly thankful we both concluded the same thing. That we wanted there to be an us. And yet I can’t resist . . .
“And what if your A-game is not strong enough to win me over?” I know he can hear the playfulness in my voice and that I’m throwing down a challenge.
“It’s good enough, sweetheart. Just you wait and see.”
“I’m a tough girl to please.”
He laughs again. The kind that warms my soul and makes me feel a little steadier in this world of chaos swirling around us.
“Then we’ll have to grudge-cupcake it out.”
EIGHT DAYS LEFT
TWITTER
@SweetChks Can anyone tell me how many people are in the world? #GrudgeCupcake #10Days #ShipsAhoy #WordsRCheap
“Mr. Dixon.”
“Hayes? What can I do for you, son?” The deep baritone of Jenna’s father vibrates across the connection.
“Sorry to bug you, Paul.”
“Is it Jenna?” There’s concern and trepidation in his voice, and I hate that he immediately thinks of the last time I called him after I found out about Jenna and her suicide attempt.
“She’s fine but she is the reason I’m calling.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know where she’s hiding? I’ve been trying to find her, and she’s not returning my calls.” I pause for a moment. Let the lie roll off my tongue. “It’s about scheduling for The Grifter’s press junket.”
“No need to lie, Hayes. She threw you to the wolves because she was jealous you found someone else. Probably hoped to scare that woman of yours away. Typical, selfish Jenna move. I’m sorry about that. Her actions are inexcusable and not something I’m proud of.” His words shock me. Seems he’s just as tired of her stunts as I am. “Last I heard she was at the place in Malibu.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
EIGHT DAYS LEFT
Ignore them.
Don’t let them distract you.
I tell myself to focus on the new idea that woke me up out of a dead sleep last night and left me staring at the ceiling trying to conceptualize it.