"Declan, please—"
"It’s not what it seems," he finally says.
That’s good. He’s finally telling me the words I want to hear. Okay, not exactly the words I want to hear, considering they’re a little too trite, a little too forced, a little too familiar from every bad romance film I’ve ever seen. Still, it’s a start, right?"
I straighten my shoulders, then fix my gaze on him. "So, can you tell me who she was?"
"I can’t."
"You can’t tell me—"
"I can’t, Solene. You’ll have to trust me on this."
"I trusted you, Declan. You were the man who saved me from a Mafia wedding. You were the man who gave me a chance to pursue my dreams of being a singer. You gave me a place to stay in LA. You’re the one who introduced me around to those in the business. It’s you who gave me the confidence to release my first single. It’s because of you I followed my dreams. It’s because of you I found my voice. You created this new me. I owe everything I am to you, D, but I’d trade it all in to find out who you were with."
"Solene, please, believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about from that woman."
He closes the distance between us and places his palms on my shoulders. And I let him. Because he was supposed to be my Happily Ever After. My one true love. He was supposed to be one. I thought, when I found him, I’d walk into the sunset with him. I thought I’d found my match.
"Are you in love with her?"
He blinks.
"Are you, Declan? Is that someone you met on the road? I know how isolating it is to be shooting for months on end. I know I’ve been busy pursuing my career too."
"As you should. You’re a talented artiste. You owe it to yourself to share your voice with them."
"I’d rather sing only for you."
"You shouldn’t treat your art with such disrespect." He peers into my eyes. "You’re a star, you need to shine bright, and nothing and no-one should hold you back."
I stare. "What does that mean? Are you implying you’re holding me back?"
"That’s not what I said."
"That’s what you implied. Is this because my song hit number one before your movie became the top grossing at the box-office? Are you holding it against me that my career took off before yours?"
He hesitates, then shakes his head. "You’re putting words in my mouth."
"It’s not my fault my song was such a big success. You know that, right?"
"You need to own your triumphs, Solene," he says softly.
"I’d give everything to go back to when it was just you and me, and neither of us had seen the kind of success that would force us to spend so much time apart."
"You can’t change what’s already happened." He begins to lower his hands, and I catch hold of his wrists.
"What are you saying? Why are you being so defeatist?"
"I’m not the one looking back at the past. I’m not the one who’s so quick to trade my hard-won success for love. But then, I forget how quickly you became successful. You didn’t have to struggle like—"
"Like you? Are you saying because it took longer for you to get to the top of your game, your success is more relevant than mine?"
"That’s not what I meant,” he says through gritted teeth.
"But you implied it."
"It’s your guilt at not being there for our relationship that’s making you see and hear things when there’s nothing there."
“Why should I feel guilty? You weren’t there for me either.” I release his hands like he just slapped me. "Also are you saying I’m delusional."
His jaw ticks. "I’m saying, we need to stop trading insults and act more civilized with each other."
"And what about you refusing to tell me who that woman was who you were with? Is that being civilized?" I say hotly.
"That’s being... Considerate of your feelings."
"If you were being considerate, you’d tell me who she was."
"And if I didn’t?" He holds my gaze and something hot blazes deep in those piercing blue eyes of his. Eyes which have made him a heartthrob with women around the world; eyes which had been focused only on me and with which he’d pledged his loyalty to me, and now… Now, I’m not so sure what to believe.
"I want to believe you, Declan."
"But?"
"But I’m not sure I can."
His gaze shutters. A pulse ticks at his temple. His tone is casual, but his shoulders a bunched. "You know, deep inside, that there’s an irreproachable explanation to what you saw."
"And I want you to say it."
"And I can’t… Not yet."
I curl my fingers into fists at my sides. "Why not though? Why can’t you tell me who she is? Why can’t you share why she was upset and why you were consoling her?"
"Because it would hurt you."
The breath whooshes out of me. Until now, I’ve held out hope it was nothing. That really, it was all a misunderstanding. We got our wires crossed. There’s a perfectly simple explanation for what I saw. But something in his eyes, something in how he sets his jaw, how those beautiful lips of his thin, how he seems to retreat deeper behind that wall he puts up between himself and the outside world, tells me that perhaps, it’s too late. He’d rather not reveal the reasons behind why he was consoling that woman. He’d rather risk me being upset with him. He’d rather risk that secret driving a wedge between us than coming out and telling me who she was and what she means to him.
"Who was she, Declan? Can you tell me that, at least?"
"I can’t."
"Why was she crying?"
"That’s not my secret to share."
"I’m your girlfriend."
"Which is why you need to trust me on this."
"And if I don’t?"
"Then—" he sets his jaw, "Then it means whatever we shared was, clearly, not strong enough if, at the first challenge we face, you decide you can’t believe in me."
"It’s not the first challenge," I scoff.
He glances over my shoulder and his gaze widens.
"This is the last in an entire series of challenges beginning with the two of us spending so much time apart that I’m not sure if I know who you are anymore and—"
He moves so quickly, I blink. The next second, he’s thrown me over his shoulder.
"What the—" I gasp. Flashbulbs pop. He turns around, storms past our friends who’ve been watching the entire spectacle unfold, and marches inside the house.
Declan
"Let me go!" She wriggles.
I tighten my hold on her.
"What’s wrong with you, Declan? What are you doing?"
"Trying to have a conversation with my girlfriend without the entire world and their mother looking on."
"You’re crazy." She struggles anew. "And was that a paparazzi’s camera that took that picture?"
“Apparently not even Sinclair Sterling’s top notch security could stop a paparazzo from getting through to get a piece of the both of us.” Not that I’m surprised. Every time Solene and I get together it results in a feeding frenzy from the news people. They’ve hung outside my home in LA, followed me into shoots in the Australian bushland, trailed Solene’s concert tour bus between states in the US. You’d think having Hunter Whittington the Prime Minister of the country in attendance at the wedding would result in protective detail being upped so much it would detract the paps? But apparently not. Seems they’d risk being arrested to get an exclusive pic of Solene and I.