13. Cant Fix This With Duct Tape
CHAPTER 13
CAN'T FIX THIS WITH DUCT TAPE
COLIN
I ’m fucked. So, so, so fucked. Joanie is brilliantly smart—she’d only need a crumb of a hint to figure out who I was. I couldn’t sleep last night after getting her texts, my stomach in knots and my thoughts churning with what happens if Joanie figured it out.
I tried texting and calling, but I think she turned off her phone. Or she blocked me. No...she wouldn’t . I should’ve gone over there, but I wanted to give her some space.
Her last text could’ve been about something else because sometimes she likes to play the role of shit-stirrer. But my gut is loudly telling me that she knows and that’s why I didn’t have her in my bed last night. That I’m monumentally screwed because I waited too long to tell her and now she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. My thoughts are spiraling. Gonzo’s stuck to me like Velcro, probably sensing my panic.
This is what I get for trying to protect myself instead of being one hundred percent authentic with the woman I love. Because there’s zero doubt I love Joanie. Probably always have, definitely always will.
And if I’m right about her finding out about my modeling days, I have to do everything in my power to get her to forgive me for not telling her when we started this relationship.
Deep down I knew there was a chance someone would recognize me, but I’ve gotten complacent since Joanie and I got together. The temptation for her and others to know me, know my history, has grown. Coming clean could be the last brick in my wall to crumble.
And the farther from my days as that guy I get, the less important it feels to keep my secrets. But since I met Joanie and realized our connection there’s been a voice in the back of my head wondering if she’d treat me differently if she knew.
She might know about the modeling, but there’s more about that period of my life that colors every memory I have of it.
I don’t advertise my past, but usually if someone recognizes me, I can shrug it off. It might bring my day down a little, but I can bounce back. But if Joanie starts to look at me differently, I don’t know if I can survive it. Building a connection with her, despite my fear of her finding out, is the best thing I’ve ever done.
And now she probably knows the surface truth about a side of me I left long ago, even before she became a romance writer. I stopped modeling more than a decade and a half ago, but I was so prolific that those pictures stayed around on the stock photo sites way longer than I expected.
Last night, I spent a good chunk of time staring at the pictures Joanie and I took at the anniversary party. I’ve been pulling them out of my wallet at least once a day to look at them, to the point where they’ve become a talisman of sorts. Those pictures bring me back in time, to the moment where everything changed. The moment her lips touched mine. The moment that Joanie’s light began filling up all of my dark spaces.
But that light hasn’t hit every corner yet, and that’s my fault. It doesn’t stop me from taking the pictures out of my wallet one more time before stepping out of my car this morning. I quickly run my thumb over her face, sending a silent prayer out into the universe. Please don’t let this be the end .
Work will help clear my head. Solving complex software problems has always laser focused my brain when I have other shit going on.
I couldn’t sleep last night, so I arrive much earlier than usual. I’ll be surprised if there’s anyone here but Stuart.
When I walk through the door, I stop in my tracks when I see Joanie sitting in my usual spot. She’s spinning in my chair, her messy bun wobbling at the back of her head. I clear my throat to let her know I’m here, and she grabs the edge of the desk to stop her spin.
“Aha!” Her eyes light up and she points at me. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere.” Crap . I guess we’re doing this. Looking at her face, her eyes are sparkling, but I can’t tell if it’s from anger or mischief. I can see the shadow of hurt there, and it breaks something in me. I’m the biggest asshole.
“Joanie,” I start, but I don’t know how to get my thoughts in order. Where do I start? “I know you found out something about me yesterday, and I want the chance to ex?—”
She cuts me off, like she’s got a rehearsed speech and doesn’t want me stepping on her lines.
“You, Colin Breton, are the billionaire.” She sounds like she’s a Belgian detective who’s just revealed the vicar’s killer.
A scared, surprised laugh escapes me. “The what now?” My brain is not catching up. It feels like Hurricane Joanie is gaining strength.
“The billionaire. Or the mafia kingpin. Sometimes the billionaire mafia kingpin.” I’d smile if I didn’t already know that she’s masking her hurt with humor. I’ll play along for now, but it feels like I’m about to step into a pit of quicksand.
I look down at my blue and green flannel, my worn jeans and the Chucks I wore to the anniversary party. Not a hint of billionaire anywhere.
She leaps up from my chair and marches towards me. I have at least a foot on her, but she backs me against the nearest wall. This is the first time her angry possum energy has been directed at me. It’d be adorable if I wasn’t on the receiving end.
But right now, with a joker’s grin on her face, I’m a little scared, until I feel her breasts press against my chest. When Joanie presses her body up against me—a body that I now know in every sense— scared blends with turned on and my cock is so confused. Now’s not the time, buddy.
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, and it took one of my readers to point out who you are.”
“Who I was ,” I say with a little too much force. Her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’m not...I’m not that guy anymore, Joanie.” Her eyes finally go a little soft, but she pokes a finger into my shoulder. She can be very pointy when she wants to be. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve taken a sharp elbow to the gut in the middle of the night.
“Is that why you didn’t tell me? Does anybody else know?”
“Nobody from this part of my life, no. And I didn’t want things to be weird.” The weakest, shallowest excuse tumbles out of my mouth.
“Have you met me?” Her voice goes up a couple octaves and she flings her arms in the air. “I. Am. Weird. Weird is my middle name. I live for the weird. Gah , now my favorite word doesn’t sound like a word anymore.” She’s two seconds from stamping her foot.
Her mouth drops open like she’s just realized something. “I don’t understand how you, the man who encourages my weirdness, values my quirks, helps me feel more comfortable in my skin, can say that you didn’t want things to get weird. What a complete mindfuck.” Her disbelieving laugh cuts through me.
I want her to get angry at me. I want her to take me to task because this frenzied humor that’s pulsing off her is unsettling. It’s like she’s reining in what she really feels, and that scares me most of all.
I fucked up, and I deserve whatever wrath she wants to unleash. So why isn’t she unleashing on me?
She quickly runs a finger through my beard like she’s not aware she’s doing it. Like I’m her own personal fidget toy. Then she steps back and starts pacing in front of me.
“ Mafia Martian ,” she shouts. Her non-sequitur throws me, and I shake my head in confusion. “You were on the cover of Mafia Martian .” Right. Here we go .
“Yep.”
“ The Billionaire’s Cousin’s Friend. ” I can see her gathering a head of steam. She’s just getting started. I groan, but I know there’s no stopping her.
“ Adopting a Puppy with the Mafia Boss ...lord, I loved that one.” Honestly, I don’t think she needs any more encouragement or confirmation from me.
“ The Bridezilla and the Billionaire , which was the best in that series. The Man With the Stern Face where you were your own twin...that one was a miss.”
“Joanie...” Every cover flashes through my mind. It’s like watching a slideshow of someone else’s life. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes, but she keeps going.
“ Three Mafia Billionaire Aliens and a Mermaid was groundbreaking. You looked good even with the green tint.” How hard would I have to knock my head against this wall to lose consciousness? Mortification rolls through me.
Joanie’s litany of my greatest hits stops, and I look down to see her staring up at me.
“Why’d you stop? You have the perfect face for romance covers.” Her hands are on her hips, and she looks like she’s bracing herself for something painful.
“Is that the question you want to ask me right now?” I’m trying to rip off this bandage and she’s making it hard.
Her chin wobbles a little and my heart cracks open. I reach for her, but she takes a small step back. I can feel the tectonic shift, the ground moving. My breathing becomes shallow. I might pass out. I’ve hurt her, all because I was too scared to open up to her.
“Why?” She swallows and sniffles. I’m drowning in cold fear and anger at myself. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” Her voice rises. “What’s the big deal about you being a model? I don’t understand.”
Both of our heads snap to the side when we hear the door leading to the parking lot open and close. We’re about to have an audience, and for now this needs to stay between me and Joanie. Until I can fully explain everything and apologize for being a coward.
In a low voice meant only for her ears, I say, “I had my reasons.” I at least have the strength to look her in the eye when I say it, but just barely. Doesn’t make me feel like any less of an asshole. “I’m sorry, Joanie, but that part of my life was more than those pictures. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you about it. It wasn’t...it wasn’t good.”
She takes a step closer to me, and that little jerk called hope flickers in my chest. Until I see a tear slip past her lashes. I want to reach out and touch her, wipe her tears away. But I don’t.
“Well, Colin Breton, you better fucking figure it out. Because I don’t keep things from you, because I...” She shakes her head, stopping herself. I feel my own tears gathering, and I try to blink them back. But there’s no stopping them. “I thought you felt the same way I do.”
I reach for her, but she gives me a small shake of her head. “Joanie, sweetheart, you have no idea how deeply I feel for you. And I swear I will make this right, but I need a moment...” I stop myself from saying to get my story straight . No, no more hiding. “When we’re alone, I’ll explain everything.”
But my Joanie’s not a patient woman, and my moment of hesitation is enough to light a furious fire in her. I can see it before it happens—she’s going to walk out of here and I’ll be left to my own self-hatred.
Her beautiful little chin juts out, and her eyes gleam with fire. “Well, you take your time, Colin. No rush figuring your shit out.” She grabs her laptop bag and walks out the front door, leaving me standing in a pile of useless apologies.
I’ll fix this. I have to.