Sweet Cheeks(83)

“She sounds like a real class act.” My voice is loaded with spite. Hurt. Accusation when it’s not his to wear.

“Say, she prob—”

“Don’t defend her.” My voice is quiet steel issuing a warning.

“She’s the last person I’d defend after this.” His voice is grave. Eyes serious.

“How do you live in that world, Hayes?” My eyes fill with tears. My chest constricts as the realization hits me that this is the world I’d be stepping into if Hayes and I were to work out.

“It comes with the territory . . . but it’s never mattered before like it does right now.”

The sob catches in my throat as I turn back to my suitcase. To my everyday life that seems so very far away right now. How will my normal be affected by this? By the hints DeeDee dropped, I fear it’s not going to be good.

Do I want to live in that life where pictures can be misconstrued and reputations are ruined over nothing but a rumor? A lie? A misconception?

“Will you stop packing for a second and look at me?”

“No. I need to get home.” That’s easier to focus on than the look of defeat in his eyes, and the riot of fear ricocheting through me. This morning I woke up sure about our future, and now I’m unsure if I can live in his world.

“Saylor.” His hands are on my shoulders. I try to shrug out of them and he holds them still. “Don’t pull away from me. We’ve been through too much for you to pull away from me.”

He knows me well enough to assume what I’m thinking. The tinge of fear in his voice—the same one that is echoing in my heart—tells me this. So while he might think I’m strong, I don’t think I’m strong enough for this.

“I’m not pulling away. I just need . . .” I hang my head and fight like hell to keep the frustrated tears from falling. “I just need to get home. I need time to think with a clear head, Hayes. Need to sort out the mess I fear my life now is.”

“Turn around.” And it’s not like I have any choice when he turns my shoulders himself. His fingers are under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I know you’re upset. Angry. You have every right to be. I am too. I’ll do whatever I can to fix this. Whatever it takes, but I know as well as anyone that I can’t control what people believe or don’t believe. And so it only matters what we know. What we believe.”

I nod subtly to let him know I hear him. The words he’s spoken and the unspoken ones in his eyes that tell me he thinks I’ve been scared away. And a part of me has. I just don’t know by how much.

“The oven died at the bakery. I need to get there to figure out what model will fit and its pricing and payment plans and . . . I just need to get back there.” I let the lie fade off because I know what those answers are. But what I need is space to think. To breathe.

“I’m going home with you. I’ll do an interview and explain our history. How we reconnected. Make it right again. Get the bastards to retract the stories.” I know he means what he’s saying, but I also know he can’t undo what has been done because he’ll be on the defensive. And the defensive is never a good place to be. I traveled all this way here to avoid just that.

“It’s not going to matter. You know that. It’s already in print therefore it’s already believed.”

“But it’s better than doing nothing. I’ll do however many interviews it takes to make them believe. We just need to figure out how to handle right now first.”

I look at him through tear-filled eyes and try to sound certain in my words. “There is no handling to be done. What will happen is I’ll go home to sort out the bakery, and you’ll go to New York because you have a table read tomorrow. I wouldn’t want you to lose the part because you missed it. I don’t need to be coddled, Hayes. I’ve lived my adult life without you, so I don’t need you holding my hand now.” I hate the flash of fury in his eyes from my comment, but it’s the truth. The sound of me closing the zipper on my suitcase in the quiet of the room reinforces my words. “I’m going to head to the airport now. Try and get an earlier flight back so I can get Sweet Cheeks back on track.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No.” I laugh but there is no amusement in the sound. “I want to go by myself. If you rush back with me, they’re going to think we’re upset and trying to cover something up. Someone will comment that you missed your reading. Assumptions will be made as to why. The last thing we need right now is to give them more fodder for their lies.”

“I don’t give a f*ck about their lies.” His voice thunders into the room and echoes back to me. His rage is so raw, his emotion so real.

“I know you don’t, Hayes. But please . . . you may be used to this . . . but I’m not. Not any of this. Just let me go on my own. Let me be a nobody in the shadows a little longer. I need time to process. To sort through it all. To get home and be in my own space and—”

“Why are you making this sound like a goodbye, Saylor?” His hands on my cheeks don’t allow me to avert my gaze from his like I want to.

“It’s not. But I don’t know if I can survive in your world, Hayes.”

He presses a kiss to my lips. It’s tender and simple and yet loaded with so much feeling behind it that a single tear slips down my cheek. My heart aches. My mind is so confused. Every part of me is scared about walking away and never seeing Hayes again. Of never getting the feeling back that we had this weekend.