God. I can’t get this sort of thing right no matter how hard I try.
“So you don’t want to be with me,” he says, his voice dull as he releases his hold on me.
“I never said that.” I watch as he turns his back on me and runs his hand through his hair, an exasperated little sound escaping him.
My heart, my entire body aches to go to him. Offer him comfort and let him know we won’t let this stumbling block break us. We can survive this.
But I don’t know if that’s the truth.
“I don’t know what I want,” I say when he doesn’t speak. “Last night was . . . it was amazing. One of the best nights of my life, but after seeing this article today and the photo, I don’t know what to think of it. Of us being together. Will we be dealing with this sort of thing for the rest of our relationship? Can we survive this type of scrutiny?” I’m scared not only of the media but of what others might think of us together. His friends, his peers in the industry. I don’t want to bring him down.
I don’t want to embarrass him.
He turns to face me, his expression full of confusion and anger and frustration. I feel terrible. I’m the one who’s doing this to him, who’s putting him through all this. “This is a fluke, Bryn. I’m pretty much out of the public eye and have been for over a year. No one cares that I have a winery in the Napa Valley, except for people in the freaking Napa Valley. Otherwise, I’m long forgotten. Some new young ballplayer has taken my place, and I’m fine with it. I’ve moved on. But my dad? He hates that I’m out of the public eye. Hates that he is too. He’s fed the media stories about me for years.”
“You really think he’s behind this?” I ask incredulously. My grandma may drive me crazy and has heaped on plenty of helpings of tough love, but she would never blatantly sabotage me or spread such lies.
He grabs his phone, punches a button and holds it to his ear, his expression grim, eyes blazing with anger. He must be listening to his voicemail or something. I wait nervously, wrapping my arms around my middle, my mind racing.
What if the photographer took more pictures? What if they release more to the media over the next few days? God, what will that do to us?
“He left me a message asking if I’d seen the article, sounding like a smug ass**le,” Matt says, knocking me from my thoughts. “And hell yes, I do, especially after what you just told me. If he said those kind of things to you, then he could definitely be behind this. I mean, no one else would mention my dad and he just happens to appear in this stupid article. He’s our unidentified source.” He exhales loudly and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Wonder how much the ass**le got paid for spreading these lies. I wonder who he got to follow us.”
“Right. And who knows if any more pictures will show up? I will die if that happens, I swear. I can’t live like this,” I say, my voice soft yet steely while inside my nerves are in absolute chaos. “I can’t do it, Matt.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, and I close my eyes, afraid to look at him, scared to see the sadness in his gaze.
“Having to deal with this sort of thing will wreck my self-esteem, and it’s already pretty wrecked.” I crack open my eyes to find him staring at me, shock written all over his handsome face. “I’ll never be able to escape the shadow of being the home wrecker, the easy girl. The dumb slut who sleeps with her boss because she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do.”
“But that’s not what we have, Bryn. Can’t you see it? This has nothing to do with me being your boss and you being my assistant. What we have, what we shared last night, is about us being a man and a woman who are attracted to each other.” He pauses, staring at me. “Right?”
I can only look at him, not sure what to say, how to defend my feelings. They are what they are, and I have no explanation for them. They’re just there. And they’re not about to go away anytime soon. It’s not that easy.
But I don’t tell him any of that. He wouldn’t understand. He’s wealthy and established and confident in going after what he wants, be it a new career, a new woman—a new whatever.
Me, on the other hand, I lack confidence. I’m young and broke and striving to make myself better, but every time I think I’ve pushed myself into a better place, I f**k it up somehow and end up taking about forty steps backward.
Until I’m right back where I started.
“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “I’m not sure if this can work out.”
“Bryn.” His voice breaks on my name and the sound breaks my heart. “Don’t do this. Don’t say that.”
“I was going to give my notice when we returned home,” I blurt out, wanting him to know the truth. “I was going to give you two weeks. Then I was going to pack up all my stuff in boxes, shove it into the back of my Saturn, and drive home to Cactus. My grandma said I can stay with her until I get back on my feet and find a job.”
Now he looks good and pissed. “You were going to give your notice so you can go back to Cactus? Have you lost your mind?”
I shrug, angry that he would be so insulting. “I have nothing else holding me here.” It’s a lie. He could hold me here, but I know it wouldn’t work out. And it wouldn’t be what’s best for me. I’d just end up making another mistake and making us both look bad.
He’s better off without me. And I don’t know if this is true, but I’m probably better off without him too.
“You have nothing else.” His voice is monotone, the look in his eyes, blank. “So what happened last night doesn’t matter.”
“Not when it’ll end up hurting us, which it will undoubtedly do.” I approach him but he takes a step back, like he doesn’t want to be near me. “I’m not sure if we’re good for each other,” I admit.
He stares at me, his mouth set in a grim line. “So you still want to give your notice?”
Slowly, I nod, ignoring the wave of panic that threatens to consume me at my silent confirmation.
“Then I accept your notice. You don’t even need to give me two weeks. We’re done.” His voice, his expression, is final, and I swear I want to burst into great, heaving sobs.
But I don’t. I remain quiet, composed. How, I’m not sure.
“I think you should try and call and change your flight so you can head home tonight,” he suggests, his voice clipped. “I’ll reimburse you for the change fee which I’m sure will be huge.”