At the end of the day, we all had bills to pay. I spent years washing dishes when I didn’t want to. I hated the hours, the way my fingers pruned, and how hot the kitchen was. The only thing that made it worth it was the walks and drives home with Corbin, and knowing the money was being saved up to invest in my books.
She’s typing something on her computer before answering. “There’s a flight I’d like you to be on first thing Monday morning. The press will have cleared out by then, so you’ll be able to get to the airport. You’ll meet me at my office on Tuesday morning so we can go over what to say to quiet the rumors.”
I plop on the end of the bed. “I shouldn’t have to make a statement over a fuzzy picture that doesn’t mean anything. Won’t that just cause more buzz like I’m guilty of something?”
Her sigh is a little reassuring. “You have a point, but we need to discuss it in person. I’m booking your flight. I expect you to be on it.”
Leaning my elbows against my bent knees, I rest of forehead in my hand. “I was supposed to have another week and a half here. They’re bringing these characters to life, Jamie.”
“You have interviews with them,” she points out in exasperation. “The entire cast will meet again for a press tour to promote the movie. The premiere party, the red carpet, the talk shows—”
“Put yourself in my shoes,” I cut her off.
The benefit of the doubt she gave me before is gone. “I am, Kinley. That’s why I’m getting you out of there before this becomes a shit show. We both know you worked too hard for this. There's no need to risk it for a scandal the media are trying to make bank on.”
The thing is I can’t argue with her. It doesn’t matter if she knows the truth or not because it’s not her job to deal with the drama in my personal life. She’s supposed to sell my books and make sure my image stays clean so we both make money from the work.
“I took you on when you were a teenager and don’t regret it one second because you’re a hard worker who’s dedicated to making something of yourself. Trust me on this. Can you do that?”
The day I walked into her office to go over the contract I’d been offered, I knew I had the option of walking out without putting pen to paper. But Jamie is the exact person I need to help my career move in the direction I want.
“I’ve trusted you since day one,” I admit.
I can picture her smiling. Or her version of smiling, which is the fastest curve of the lips before the movement disappears. It’s more like a muscle twitch.
“Monday. Plane.”
There’s another knock on my door. I walk out of the bedroom and rub a hand down the side of my face. If this hotel offers me another meal without me asking for one, I may blow up. Then I’ll spend the rest of the night feeling ten times guiltier over being rude on top of being a pain in their ass along with the other guests impacted by the circus outside.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell whoever is standing on the other side, eyeing the peephole.
My eyes widen to twice their size over the dark head of hair peeking out of a hoodie over top of dark sunglasses. I curse and unlock the door, throwing it open in disbelief that I’m seeing the last person who should be here.
“Who’s at the door?” Jamie asks.
“Room service,” I lie, wincing. “I’ll be on the plane. I promise. See you Tuesday morning?”
“My assistant will email you the time.”
We say goodbye and I pull Corbin into the room before anyone can see him. That is, if they haven’t already. It seems impossible that he walked in without causing a stir.
I end the call and glare at him after making sure the door is locked. “Are you stupid? What the hell are you doing here, Corbin?”
His brows raise. “Good to see you too.”
“No. Don’t act like I’m being rude,” I seethe, walking further into my room. “I’m trying to get those assholes downstairs to leave me alone and stop asking questions about us, and you show up to my hotel room?”
He keeps his distance and says, “Most of them were escorted off the property before the police were called for disturbance. Plus, I called ahead and got in a different way so nobody would see.”
I blink. Then blink again. “And what? I don’t believe that nobody saw you. My agent is working to get the rumors circulating about us to go away before something happens. You may be used to this but I’m not. I can’t afford to get attacked online for something stupid.”
“Stupid?” he repeats.
I ignore his deadpan question. “Why are you here? That’s all I want to know, Corbin. I’m leaving sooner than expected and just want to go in peace.”
He crosses his arms. “I heard. And I’m here to check in on you. Is that so wrong? We’re friends—”
“Stop.”
“Don’t deny it, Kinley.” He walks over to me until his shoes brush the tips of mine. “You can act like there isn’t something happening, but then you’d be lying to yourself. You’re better than that.”
For the first time I think, am I?
My silence only feeds his determination to prove what’s better left unsaid. “You don’t want me here because that means you’re willing to truly forgive me. It doesn’t matter that you think you already have. Another lie.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m sorry,” he continues, cutting me off, “for involving you in the shit online. I mean it. You have to understand that I’ve done everything in my power to try making sure you’ve been kept out of it for as long as I can.”
Does he think I’m stupid? “I’m not proud of admitting this, but I’ve googled you before. I typed your stupid superstar name into the browser too many times to count. You know what I didn’t find? Lincoln. Your family. Me. And I thought … damn. He must really hate us. You always said you didn’t want to be in Lincoln. How many times did you mention wanting to get out and never look back? So, you did. Only then you deleted that part of your past like it was some blip in the image you wanted to portray.”
“That’s not—”
“I know,” is what I say in a voice far too calm for the conversation. “You can call me a liar and say I’m in denial but I’m just protecting myself. I really thought you deleted that information because you didn’t care. It was easier than thinking you did it because you did care. That’s like admitting that I’ve always wanted us to find a way back to each other. To touch each other. To hold each other. To say the things we shouldn’t say.
“All of those things have been locked away in a vault because they’re not worth the pain of acknowledging they can’t happen. When I agreed to come to California there were so many different what-if situations running through my head. None of them turned out like this. I told myself to smile and be strong and act like I was better off without you and the memories and everything between us. Do you know what I felt instead?”
His head slowly shakes.
“Sick.” His lips part. “Sick like when I worried about messing up our first kiss, or thinking my hand was too sweaty to hold, or wondering if I’d mess up sex and ruin the moment I wanted to share with nobody but you. It’s the awkward feeling of trying to play it cool when you’re freaking out inside, and trying to decide if the funny feeling in your stomach is butterflies or anxiety, or if the stupid way you smile when you remember something naughty would give you away in front of everybody.