All of this I understand, so why do I feel like there’s more to the story? I glance to the left of him at the granite countertop we made love on two days ago amidst a mess of sugar and flour. I’d felt euphoria then, but now? Now I just feel confused and uncertain. Like my world is about to quake beneath my feet when being with him this week stopped it trembling for the first time in months.
And the discord I feel is reinforced when I meet his eyes. It’s in the expression written all over his face—a mixture of resigned regret and cautious trepidation—that tells me I’m not going to like the answer to the question I’ve just asked him. I know this look. He averts his eyes out the window and runs a hand up from his shoulder to his neck and back again.
I’m not the only one with a tell.
I used to see this when he would let down his guard and tell me little bits about the bruises he noticed on his mother’s body or about the loud crashes against the wall in the night that would wake him up.
He’s not coping well. Something’s going on. What the hell is it?
“My agent thought it might be a good idea to use this trip as a way to get some good press in my favor.”
Unease tickles the base of my spine. “What do you mean by this trip?” While I’m smart enough to infer, I’m trying really hard to control my emotions and to ask instead of immediately assume, which is a new thing for me. And that in itself tells me how much I care for Hayes and I want to make this work.
Patience has never been my strength and yet right now I’m trying like hell to hold on to it as tightly as I can.
Drawing in a deep breath, he takes a step toward where I’m seated and explains. “I mean as in, Hayes Whitley really is that good guy you thought he was. Sorry, he can’t make your premiere because he’s out of the country, busy taking an old childhood friend to a wedding. That type of press.”
I take in his explanation and let it settle while I try to figure out if I should be offended by this or just accept it. And regardless of whichever one I do choose, what does it have to do with what he’s so upset about?
“Okay.” I draw the word out. “So paint you as the good guy again. Try to get you away from the image of cheating boyfriend before the press junket begins, right?” I nod my head all the while trying to put the puzzle pieces into place and figure out what I’m missing.
“Something like that.” His eyes hold mine. Search them. Make me suspicious.
“So did you offer to take me here with that agenda in mind or did you offer to come here and that became a side agenda once I said yes?” I hate that I have to ask. Hate thinking that maybe this whole thing was a hoax, and the selfless act was actually a selfish one.
“My offering to bring you here, Say, has everything to do with you and fucking zilch to do with my reputation. You need to know that, hear that, and believe that, okay?”
The sudden urgency in his voice confuses me. The tinge of desperation in it even more so.
I nod my head. Let him know I hear him, but the feeling of unease intensifies.
“What happened, Hayes?” It’s my turn to have insistence in my voice.
“Believe me when I tell you I had no hand in this. No idea what was going on. My phone was off until just now and—”
“Just tell me.” My heart pounds in my chest, an uneven staccato I suddenly hear pulsing in my ears.
“Jenna pulled one of her bullshit, self-serving stunts.” He puts one hand on his neck and pulls down. His face a mask of regret.
“What did she do?” My voice is barely a whisper but eerily even despite the feeling I have that the dam is about to give way.
“Our first day here, she was calling me constantly then texting because she was pissed off that I wouldn’t come visit her. Like I should be at her beck and call. I was so fed up with her that I turned off my phone.”
“That’s why you took my phone.” I remember the look on his face. The determination for me to hand over my cell.
“Yeah. I didn’t want any of her bullshit to ruin the time we had together. She has caused enough problems for me and I just wanted to be here—with you. I know you never get away from work and I didn’t want her to distract me from what I wanted to get out of this weekend.”
“And what did you want to get out of this weekend?” Curiosity has me asking.
“Originally I just wanted to make amends. Be friends. I told myself you were off limits because we live in two separate worlds and you’d just come out of a long-term relationship.” He shrugs, a sheepish grin on his lips. “But I’m not that good of an actor, Ships. Even on my best day, I wouldn’t be able to convince myself being friends would be enough.”