hear him in the corridor outside our room, talking on the phone. His hushed voice skates over my flesh even though he’s nowhere near me, causing my nipples to pucker. I jump out of bed and plaster my ear to the door, every bone in me aching for answers.
It’s not that I don’t respect Mal’s privacy; it’s that he knows everything about my life, and I know nothing about his. There’s a big gap between us, and I’d just like to build a bridge over it, bring us both into the light.
I strain my ears, but hear nothing.
The door flings open suddenly, and I get hit in the face, stumbling down on my butt. I rub my ass cheek, feeling my ears turning red.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Mal rushes around the door and pulls me up, frowning. “Were you eavesdropping?”
Hmm?
“No,” I groan, wiping the hair out of my face. “I was about to open the door to look for you. Why, were you talking to your secret lover?” I joke lamely.
“No, but close. Ryner,” he clips.
“Didn’t think he was your style.”
I try to lighten the mood. Anything to make him forget I did try to eavesdrop on him.
“Did you know Richards wants us to stay here for the remainder of New Year’s week? The nerve on this wanker.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Another lie in our deceit bucket, which is piling up quite nicely. I don’t even feel so bad this time, since Mal is lying through his teeth every day we spend together.
“That a problem?” I cock an eyebrow, daring him to open up.
“You know it is,” he retorts, storming into the room and shoving clothes into his open suitcase. “I agreed to two nights in Greece. Just the two. Even that was a stretch, and against my contract with Ryner. I’m done here.”
I’d ask him again why, but I know better than to think he’d answer.
“Pack up your stuff, Princess. We’re leaving, with or without the project.”
“How do you mean?”
He turns toward me, scowling. “I mean, I don’t give a damn about this album, and neither should you. Let’s go back.”
He can’t stay.
But I certainly can. And should. This is my job. In a moment of pure, sharp clarity, I realize that nothing’s changed. Mal still wants me to make gigantic sacrifices in the name of our unstable relationship. And I still humor him because…why? His pretty purple eyes? His bulging biceps? His panty-melting songs?
Move to Ireland at eighteen.
Give up on college.
Leave my job.
It’s a good thing he still hasn’t asked me to lick his shoes clean.
I pick up my purse, throw the strap over my shoulder, and advance to the door.
“Where are you going?” He grabs my wrist.
I shake him off, laughing bitterly. “Not sure, but wherever it is, you won’t be there, acting like a jerk who thinks I owe the world to him. I broke up with my boyfriend because of you. You pursued me relentlessly, and for what? To act like I need to up and leave my work just because you said so?”
Mal’s face twists in agony. He understands how badly he is screwing up. He shakes his head, sighs, and drops to his knees, pressing his forehead to my stomach. It is not an act of begging or kneeling, but a simple, sweet gesture.
“I’m sorry. I am being an arsehole, but I don’t mean to. And trust me when I say the last thing I do is take you for granted. Let’s do something fun today. I’ll make some calls and see what I can do about postponing going back to Ireland. What do you want to do?”
You, I think with exasperation. That’s what got me into this pickle in the first place.
He reads my face and starts laughing, rubbing his cheek.
He’s blushing. I am melting despite my best efforts. This is how it’s always going to be.
“Other than the obvious, mutual answer.” He presses his hot lips to my midriff through my pajamas.
“Surprise me,” I whisper.
“Surprise you?”
He grins, the same grin the wolf flashes before he opens his mouth and swallows Little Red Riding Hood whole.
“Your wish is my command, Princess.”
I wore a yellow summer dress and a slightly unhinged smile on my wedding day. The groom wore a red bandana on his forehead, Blundstone boots, cargo shorts, and a black V-neck tee that smelled of warm beer.
We looked too young and too drunk and too careless, but we both somehow knew it wasn’t a mistake.
We just needed liquid courage to be able to do this