All of Me (Inside Out #5.5)(34)

I scoot closer, and on my knees I rest my hand on his back. “Are you okay?”

“An old nightmare I haven’t had in years. My father. Katie made me start thinking about the past.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says, standing up, grabbing his pajama bottoms and pulling them on. “I need to paint.” He starts walking and I feel the dismissal like a slice in my heart, but then he stops dead in his tracks.

I hold my breath as he runs his hand through his hair, and then comes back to me. “I don’t want to talk about it yet—but I will.” He offers me his hand. “Come with me.”

Goosebumps lift on my skin, and I feel relief. I press my hand to his, and I can almost see the same relief wash over him, as if I have given him some kind of peace. And I am more certain in this moment than I have ever been that we are indeed the two pieces of a puzzle I’d once thought us to be.

Now, that puzzle is complete.





      Part Eleven



   Making Roses

out of Wildflowers





Chris’s studio is surrounded by windows, and he pulls a cozy chair into the room for me where I settle with my laptop, staring out at the twinkling night sky. I stay there for hours, and he eventually curls up beside me to watch the sun rise. We don’t go back to sleep, though, our body clocks off from the time change. Instead, we go sample cakes, and finally choose one strawberry and one chocolate, both with a cream filling that’s decadent and unique in a way that redefines the flavors.

By mid-morning we’ve checked on Ella, with no news to be had, and Chris is quick to distract me from worry with cake and flowers. Katie is pleased with our choices, but I don’t miss how Chris avoids talking to her, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, either. His godfather, Mike, even calls once and Chris doesn’t answer.

I don’t ask what is bothering him; he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. I know when to ask questions now, and when to just help him breathe. So I revel in being home, getting unpacked, having a workout in the gym, and enjoying a bottle of champagne with pizza, which ends with us falling asleep on the couch.

The next morning, we’re both feeling more rested, and Chris suggests we go to the garage to check out my new car. I’m eager to see it, now that I’m past that trigger of guilt I’d felt initially. When I spot the shiny, gorgeous new car, I rush to open the door, quickly climbing inside.

I can see Chris’s pleasure at my pleasure, and I’m reminded that besides wanting me to fully embrace sharing his life, he needs that connection to put the past behind him, like me.

I stand up and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love it. Thank you. Can we take it for a ride?”

Alex, who has been standing in the background, clears his throat. “Not advisable. The press hasn’t left the front of the building. This car will end up on their radar, and you’ll end up with them on your tail.”

Chris’s hands go to his hips and his expression tightens. “No. We aren’t playing this game on their terms. Let’s give them what they want so they’ll stop haunting us.” He grabs his phone and dials. “Jacob. How soon can you get here? I need to borrow you to assist Alex for an hour. Good. See you in five.” He ends the call. “Let’s go meet the public.”

“What are we doing, Chris?” I ask as he tugs me toward the building, while Alex quickly falls into place.

“We’re going to talk to the press so it will run on all of the stations. Otherwise we’ll still be a story come our wedding day, and we’ll risk it being interrupted.” He eyes Alex. “You up to the task?”

“Yes, sir,” he assures Chris, as if there was any other acceptable answer, considering Chris seems to have made up his mind. “I’ll warn the apartment security and we’ll handle the crowd. When is Jacob arriving?”

“He was next door at the Italian joint eating pizza,” Chris replies. “He should be here now.” He stops and faces me, hands on my shoulders. “There’s no police investigation to silence us now. The plan is to walk outside, let them fire questions at us, and we answer them. We get the inevitable over with, and they lose interest.”

“That makes sense. Yes. I’m ready to get this behind us.”

He gives me a nod of approval and we walk hand-in-hand into the lobby, pausing as Alex talks to the new security guy, Max. Max eyes us as Alex speaks, giving a nod of acceptance.

“Ready to do this thing?” Jacob asks, appearing in front of us from I don’t know where, because he didn’t come in the front door.

“Let’s do it,” Chris confirms.

Jacob leads us forward, while Alex and Max follow behind us. The instant we reach the sliding glass doors, at least ten reporters charge toward us. I blink and we step outside, but I don’t feel the winter chill as cameras are pointed at us and lights start flashing. I feel suffocated and hot and more than a little ready to be done with this.

“How long did you know Ava Perez, Ms. McMillan?” one reporter asks.

“Did you sleep with Ms. Perez, Mr. Merit?” another asks.

A microphone is shoved at my face. “How do you feel about the deals that were made?”

Chris shoves it away. “Enough,” he shouts. “One question at a time. And no, I did not sleep with Ava Perez.”