Perfectly Imperfect(81)
And now … now, we’re outed as a couple—no, a goddamn f*cking plaything—and all that privacy is going to fly out the window.
Fuck!
Worst of all, Willow has no idea just how bad it is going to get with the media. Not until I tell her everything. Everything I can’t even tell her yet because I gave my f*cking word.
Ignoring Trace, I pull up Mia’s text screen.
Kane: We need to talk. I have to tell her, Mia. I know I promised you I wouldn’t say anything, and at the time, I agreed it was best but not anymore. I won’t lose her because of this.
Dropping my head back, I say a silent prayer that everything is going to work out and Willow won’t leave me for keeping Mia’s baby secret from her.
I WOKE UP FROM ONE of the deepest sleeps I had ever experienced when Kane came to gently let me know we would be landing soon and I needed to come and get my seatbelt on.
It took me a little while to shake the tiredness from my system. I’m sure a little of that had to do with Kane keeping me up for the last few nights, but I know emotionally today was just tiring.
“Hey,” I tell Kane and press a light kiss to his lips before taking the seat on the other side of the table.
He looks up from his iPad and gives me a smile.
“Are you okay?” I question, cocking my head to the side and studying his expression.
His eyes flash, and I know, regardless of what he says, something is bothering him.
“I’m fine. I just have some things on my mind.”
“Ohhhhhkay. And you don’t feel like you can talk to me about those things?”
He places his iPad down and leans forward, reaching out and folding his hands over mine. “It’s not that, Willow. I just wanted to be able to talk to you when we weren’t rushed for time. When I can explain things without having to stop.” He sighs. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
My skin flashes cold, and a little seed of dread starts to burrow in my gut. What on earth could have happened during the time we’ve been in that air that has him needing to explain things to me? Or better yet, what would make me have cause for worry?
And then, the cold flushes through me again when I realize what he could mean. Or more importantly, why he’s worried about me.
“They found out about our relationship?”
He nods, his expression darkening.
“And that bothers you?” I continue, trying to field my way through the many things that could be wrong here. I’m not sure how I feel about him being bothered by our relationship becoming common knowledge now that we’re being faced with it. He had assured me he wasn’t ashamed or hiding our relationship, and I believed him. I know he’s immensely private and not broadcasting us is a lot different from intentionally hiding it.
“That the media knows about our relationship? No. But I know how they work, Willow. They take a grain of truth, a sliver of the privacy I value, and splatter it with whatever lies they can in order to make their money. The truth doesn’t pad their pockets, not when it doesn’t hold anything sordid.”
I lean back in my seat, my hands falling from his hold. Even though I didn’t intentionally pull away from him, I can see the hurt in his eyes.
“What are they saying?”
He shakes his head, his shoulders dropping with a loud sigh. “The normal things. Speculating about how serious we are, where we meet, and who the woman in my life is.”
I reach out to take his iPad from the table to see for myself what is being said, but when he notices my intent, he reaches out and grabs it from my grasp. The swiftness in his movements causes me to snap my hand back as if he had physically slapped it. That little seed of dread starting to sprout.
“Promise me, Willow, that you will just let me take care of this. Let’s get to my house and we can sit down, but I don’t want you to fill you head with that garbage until we can talk. We need to plan on how we want to address the media with our relationship officially and not just with hypothetical talk about what would happen if they found out. They know, and even though I would normally never address my private life with them, you know how I feel about hiding you. I won’t do it. I just need you to let me explain a few things before we decide what to do.”
“Why do I get the impression that there is more going on right now than you’re telling me?”
He unbuckles and kneels down in front of me. “I love you, Willow. Trust in that and trust in me. You know there are things I haven’t told you, but I haven’t kept them from you for any other reason than I had made a promise to someone that I wouldn’t talk about it.”
“Not even to me,” I add. I’m not mad about that. I know how important his word is to him, his integrity that his trust is worth something more than just a word. But it still unsettles me. That being said, I think it would be more unsettling if he had no issues breaking the trust he had asked someone to have in him when our relationship started out with me blindly giving him my trust.
“I’m sorry, baby. When I gave my word, it was before I ever imagined what we have would become a reality. The love we have is the best kind of unexpected, and you have to know how much I hate keeping this from you. I’m telling you, with absolute honesty, that I will tell you everything, but I have to do that without breaking my word. There are too many people who can get hurt, and I refuse to let you be one of them.”