Chapter 29 #2
Silence passes between us and the tension is thick.
“I don’t understand why you’re leaving,” he finally says.
I swallow. “If I go back, they’ll follow me.”
“We handle this together,” he says in a steady voice as he sets his keys on the table by the door.
And that makes this worse because even though I denied it, I am running.
“You shouldn’t have to handle this,” I say. “This is my mess.”
He turns then, and his eyes are dark, hurt, and confused. “We’re married.”
“Fake married,” I add softly.
“Married,” he says firmly.
“And you didn’t sign up for this.”
He crosses the room and stares into my eyes. “Actually, I did. I signed up for marriage, which means I signed up for you. We are married, which means we handle things together. All of this.”
I shake my head. “No, I messed things up. I brought this into your life, your bar, and into your mother’s life. You both shouldn’t have to fight my board members and psycho sister.”
“I don’t care,” he says as he shakes his head.
“I do.”
My voice cracks, and I hate it.
“I feel like I’m destroying us,” I whisper.
He walks toward me slowly. “You think I married you for the easy version?”
I shake my head. “I think you didn’t know what you were signing up for.”
He cups my chin. “I know exactly what I signed up for.”
My heart is in my throat.
“Did you?” My chest feels tight. “Because this is who I am. Private jets, board votes, and family warfare. I don’t get to turn that off because I want to sit at a tiki bar and pretend I’m just some woman you met at the bar.”
“You’ll never be some woman I met at the bar,” he says, softly. “When are you going to realize that?”
“I never want to hurt you.”
His thumb brushes my cheek. “You’ll hurt me if you leave me.”
That almost undoes me. I shake my head. “I don’t want to leave. But I feel like it’s for the best.”
“I want you.”
I close my eyes. “If I stay, they’ll keep circling. They’ll keep pushing. And if I go, it will protect us.”
“You don’t know that,” he argues.
“I know. But I do know that I can’t sit here and watch them tear you apart.”
“They won’t,” he argues. “They’ll move on when they see there’s no story.”
Silence stretches between us.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says finally.
“You could come with me,” I say softly.
“I want to, but I can’t leave my mom right now,” he says, shaking his head. “And the bar...and Jonah...”
I nod. “Of course. I understand.”
His honesty is raw. I can tell he looks torn by staying, torn by me leaving.
“I don’t want to go,” I whisper back.
He studies my face like he’s memorizing it. “When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, sadly.
I step closer, pressing my hands to his chest. His heart is beating fast under my palm.
“I just need to get ahead of this,” I say softly. “If I don’t get control of the board, I will lose everything.”
His jaw tightens, and something shifts in his eyes. “Okay.”
That surprises me. I thought he would fight me on this. “Okay?”
“I don’t like it. But I understand why you feel you need to go. I just hate that you’ll be in New York and I’ll be here and not able to protect you from...them,” he says as he glances at the direction of the front door where the paparazzi was camping out.
He kisses me softly, pulling me to him, and murmurs, “I have an idea.”
A small smile tugs at my mouth. “What are you suggesting?”
He leans in close, voice low. “We take the back path through the dunes. They won’t know.”
I glance out the blinds and notice that the paparazzi SUV is still idling at the end of the street. I can see a silhouette inside.
We slip out the back door quietly, Cal carrying my suitcase as if it weighs nothing. We carry our shoes and run barefoot through the cool sand under our feet. The ocean is loud, and the waves are the only sound.
We move through the dunes, my hand in Cal’s. “Cal.”
He turns, and I step toward him, pulling him down to me and kissing him. I glance at him in the moonlight and want to remember this moment. His face and how he looks at me.
“I hate that you’re leaving,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Me, too.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Silvie.”
“You won’t,” I promise, but I hesitate for a fraction of a second.
He tips his forehead to mine.
“I’m coming back,” I say.
He searches my face as if he’s looking for honesty, and he nods once.
“Then go win your war,” he says. “I’ll be here waiting.”
We reach the airport, and Wilby pulls up, Birdie at the wheel. He nods, grabs his bag, and heads to the plane.
I hug Birdie, and she pulls me to her. “Travel safe, sugar. I’ll be here when you want to come back.”
I glance around and realize the paparazzi hadn’t seen us leave, and we outsmarted them, something I love to do. Once they realize I’m gone, they’ll flock after me, eager to chase the story. Coconut Beach will be safe from the vultures.
Cal waits, his hands in his pockets. I go to him kiss him softly. His hands come around me, and he pulls me close. He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He just looks sad.
I get on the plane and prepare for New York. And I have to decide whether I’m fighting for a company or fighting for us.