Chapter 20 #2
“I hope you’re having fun, wherever you are,” she tells him, then laughs. “But not too much fun, if you know what I mean. And you do. I know you do. I don’t know how, but you’ve always been a good boy, Tyler. Better I think than I deserved.”
She’s probably right. And if he were being honest, luck, hockey, and the Rusu family had much more to do with how he ended up than she did. But it’s her birthday. He’s not the angry kid he once was. And he can’t stand to hear the sadness in her voice.
“Chin up, Mom,” he whispers. Not a denial of her claim, but forgiveness for the undeniable truth woven through it.
An airy laugh comes through the line, followed by a slight sniffle. “Chin up, baby. I love you.”
“Happy birthday.”
The line goes dead.
He clutches the phone, holding on to the stillness, the silence, trying not to let the distance and the doubts win. His mom has always been the one part of his life completely out of his control. It terrifies him. It always has. Unfortunately, there isn’t much he can do about it.
“You done?” Nina asks.
“Yeah.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m done.”
“Then I need your phone.”
He holds it up without looking. She walks over and grabs the device from his fingers, then stops. Her stare burns a hole through his cheek for one second, then two.
“What?” he finally asks, looking up, ready for a lancing comment.
She probes his eyes for another second, as if weighing a decision.
Even though he’s sitting on the bed, they’re at the same level.
She really is a tiny person. Her personality, though, casts a large shadow, and he finds himself bracing for whatever is coming.
She’s got a way of seeing straight into the heart of a person.
It’s unnerving, how easily she can read his greatest fears and deepest desires, like a puppeteer peering down the strings.
Tyler looks away first.
Nina sighs. “It’s dead, you know.”
“What?”
“The story about the rehab facilities.”
“You mean, the story your boss used to blackmail me?”
“It’s dead.”
“I know. I paid a settlement after signing the contract for the show.”
“There are ways around settlements,” Nina comments cryptically. “I just thought you might want to know Trish made some calls, she found some loose ends, and she buried them. You won’t have to worry about it again.”
He grunts. “Am I supposed to be grateful?”
“Be whatever you want. I just thought you’d want to know.”
“You know what I want to know?” He snaps his head up to stare her dead in the eyes. “Why do you do this? What do you get out of it? The threats. The manipulation. The playing with people’s emotions.”
“I get a show.”
“And that’s all you care about? Some fucked-up television show selling fake romance?”
“You and Winnie don’t seem fake to me.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t turn this around on us.”
“I don’t force people to do anything, Tyler.
I give them choices. I provide clarity. I hold up a mirror.
It’s not my problem if some people don’t like what they see.
You’re all big boys and girls. You know exactly what you signed up for.
And sometimes you need a hard shove to get out of your own way.
” She goes to the door and pulls it open, then glances back over her shoulder.
“Your first one-on-one starts at 8 a.m. I suggest you get some sleep.”
He doesn’t.
Not a wink.
He spends the night tossing and turning, worried about his mom and wishing for Winnie.
Then he spends the next two days acting like a boorish oaf to the two unlucky girls selected for his dates.
He sends the first one home before they even make it to dinner.
Cynthia probably wishes he would send her home as well, but production told him he’s not allowed to send two girls packing before the puzzle ceremony, and Winnie loves her, so, unfortunately for her, she’s got to stay.
He tries not to be a complete ass during their entire tour through the old city, but it’s a struggle.
Despite their romantic dinner cruise across the Mediterranean, he hands her a puzzle piece with nothing more than a chaste kiss on the cheek, then spends the night counting the hours until his group date begins tomorrow.
It’s at some famous amusement park at the top of Mount Tibidabo.
The views of Barcelona are supposed to be amazing, but he doesn’t even notice them when he arrives.
He’s only got eyes for one thing.
The second he sees her, he makes a beeline.
Winnie’s presence is an immediate salve on his soul. The pressure in his chest lightens. The storm clouds dissipate. All the stresses and fears and questions fade the moment those warm hazel eyes meet his. Because she’s still here. She’s still fighting.
“Win.”
He takes her by the hand and pulls her from the throng, desperate for five minutes alone with her.
“Tyler!” Nina shouts.
He doesn’t stop. He knows he’s supposed to make some stupid speech or play some stupid game, but he just doesn’t care.
The Ferris wheel up ahead gleams like salvation.
It hasn’t opened to the public yet, so he cuts right to the on-ramp and practically dives into the private cabin.
Before Winnie is even settled in beside him, he yanks the door closed and growls, “Go.”
Nothing happens.
“Go, please?” he tries, the weak attempt at politeness overshadowed by the undercurrent of a threat still evident in his voice. Winnie snickers softly, covering her mouth with her fingers.
“Tyler!” Nina shouts.
He groans and stares at the frozen attendant. “Come on, man. Help me out.”
“Don’t you dare!” Nina shouts.
The attendant looks between them with the nervous eyes of trapped prey.
“I’m not getting off this Ferris wheel until we ride,” he tells Nina as she stops outside their cabin with her hands on her hips. “I need five minutes and then I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Five minutes, Nina.”
“You’re supposed to give a speech.”
“Five minutes.”
“You’re supposed to start at the overlook with all the girls.”
“Five minutes.”
“You’re—”
“Five minutes. You can edit it out later. Or better yet, don’t film us. No one will ever know. It’ll be our little secret.”
She sighs and throws her hands in the air. “I tried. Let them go.”
The attendant hesitates, then pulls a lever. With a creaking wail that does little to instill confidence, the Ferris wheel putters into motion. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
“Thank fuck.”
Not wasting a moment, Tyler wraps an arm around Winnie and pulls her onto his lap. He finds her lips, needing to lose himself in her. She runs her fingers through his hair, returning his kiss, but he can tell she’s not fully in it.
“Ty?”
He grunts, stealing her mouth again.
“Do we need to talk about it?” she arches her head back to ask. He trails his lips down the side of her throat instead, uninterested in talking.
“I know it was your mom’s birthday. Did she—”
“No,” he quickly interjects.
“So this—”
“No.” He pulls back and meets her concerned gaze. “This has nothing to do with that. She’s fine. I just miss you. I miss holding you. I miss touching you. And if we only have five minutes, I want to make the most of them.”
She grins, eyes twinkling. “Do you think we should at least spare a second for the view?”
“Make out with me for the rest of this ride, and I promise one day I will fly you back here and we will spare at least thirty whole seconds for the view.”
“Deal.”
Winnie grins against his lips as they crash back together.
His hands find her hips, fingers digging into her skin, holding her to him.
There’s a desperation to the gesture he can’t ignore.
Her words from Iceland flutter through his thoughts.
I want to believe I’ll be able to handle anything, but what if I can’t?
She can.
He knows she can.
He trusts her.
But the talk with his mother, the time apart, all of it has him on edge. He’s used to people leaving. He expects it. Even from his own mother, time and time again. The uncertainty is so certain it’s like its own strange foundation, the one rooting most of his life.
Winnie will be different.
She’ll be a new foundation. Steady. Solid. Petrifying.
He’ll do anything to keep them from crumbling.