Being Me(Inside Out 02)(70)
“Open the door, baby. I need to see you.”
“I can’t. I can’t open the door.”
“Why?”
“Because if I do I’ll cry and mess up my makeup.”
“Let me in, Sara.” His voice is gentle but insistent.
“Please, Chris. I’ll be out in a minute and I’ll be fine.” But I
don’t sound fine. My voice is strained, barely recognizable.
“You know me. I’m not going to leave without you opening up.”
You know me. I do know him and I know how much trust
and privacy means to him. Not only did I lie to him, but he let
me inside his world, and Michael is about to make it public.
“Sara.” There is a push to the way he says my name, a gentle
command, but still a command.
He isn’t going away. He’s too ridiculously stubborn. I unlock
the door and step back to the wall, telling myself to make up yet
another lie to get him past this evening, to protect him. Once
we are back at the hotel, then I’ll tell him everything. That’s my plan but I fail miserably. The instant I see Chris, my brilliant, damaged, amazing artist who’s let me into his life, and who I am about to lose, I lose it. My legs give out and I sink to the floor, tears bursting from some deep hidden place I’ve never visited but I knew existed.
Chris squats down in front of me and his hands are on my
shoulders, strong and sure, and I cry harder. I can’t stop the waterfall. He shifts to lean against the wall and pulls me against him.
“This isn’t how this is supposed to happen.”
“This isn’t how what was supposed to happen?” he asks,
stroking my hair and urging me to look at him with a finger
under my chin. “This is about the man I saw you talking to,
isn’t it?”
“Michael.” My stomach knots just saying his name. “That
was Michael. I …” I draw a deep breath of courage and rush
into my confession. “There are things I haven’t told you. I meant
to. I wanted to. I knew I had to but I just … I just wanted to forget and …” I bury my hands in my face. I can’t look at him.
I can’t. My body shakes and I will away the tears I can’t seem
to escape.
Chris slides his hands to my head and forces my gaze back
to his, his green eyes searching mine, and he sees too much, he
sees what I don’t want him to, what I can’t hide from. He sees
the demons I’m battling and how easily they have owned me.
“We all have things we want to forget. No one knows that
better than me, but you can tell me anything. You have to know
that by now.”
“You’re going to hate me, Chris.”
“I can’t hate you, baby.” His thumbs stroke away my tears and
his eyes soften, warm. “I love you way too much for that.”
I feel as if a clamp has just slammed down around my heart.
He loves me. Chris loves me, and while it’s exactly what I’ve
burned to hear, I can’t accept it now. He doesn’t know me well
enough to love me. I shake my head. “No. No, don’t say that until
I know you mean it.”
“I already mean it.”
“I lied to you, Chris,” I blurt out. “I didn’t want you to know
something about me so I just … I lied. I … told you I hadn’t had sex in five years but that wasn’t true.” His hands go to my knees, and I feel him withdrawing already, preparing for whatever I’m about to say. I press my fingers to my temples and they tremble.
“Two years ago—no—that’s not true, either. Nineteen months
and four days ago, I flew back to Vegas for a charity event honor—
ing my mother. My father was a no-show and that hurt. It hurt
so damn bad. Michael was there and I was alone and vulnerable
and he acted like he cared, and I—”
“Wait,” Chris says, his voice sharp, biting. He rotates me to
press me against the wall, his hands on my arms. “You know exactly how many days it is since you f*cked him last?”
I flinch. “No. I mean yes. But it wasn’t like that, it was—”
“Do you still love him? Is that what this is about?”
“No— God, no! I love you, not him. I never loved Michael.
He … he came to my room and I made the mistake of letting
him in.” Memories rip through me, and I tilt my head down. I
can barely breathe with another flashback of Michael touching
me, his hand on my breast. “I let him in.” I force my gaze to
Chris’s and whisper, “I let him in, Chris.”