“We could make it work,” I say. “Even long distance.” I force a smile. “I can think of a few fun things we might do over the phone.”
The corner of his mouth curls up, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I appreciate the offer,” he says.
The matter is far from settled, but neither of us seems inclined to continue the conversation. We fall quiet again, at least until my stomach starts rumbling.
“I’m the worst date ever, aren’t I?” he says. “When was the last time we ate?”
I honestly can’t remember. For all my body’s insistence, I don’t have much of an appetite.
Still, Calder pulls off at the next exit. It’s only 10 AM, but there’s a little twenty-four hour diner just off of the highway. We’ve made it back to the edge of town, and he probably should have just taken me back to my apartment, but I’m grateful for the chance to extend our little escape—even if it doesn’t feel like much of an escape any more. When we get back, these hypothetical discussions have to become actual decisions.
The diner must have a pretty decent breakfast because the place is packed, even at this hour. I ask Calder to order me a coffee before slipping away to the bathroom.
I’m a mess. A glance in the mirror reveals a headful of tangled hair and dark shadows under my eyes. I do my best to tame my waves into a ponytail, but that only reveals the dark red marks on my neck, signs of our lovemaking yesterday.
When did it become ‘lovemaking’ instead of ‘fucking’?
I want to tell him that I love him. But I know that under the current circumstances it would only look like a desperate, manipulative ploy. Maybe saying “I love you” solves everyone’s problems in the movies, but in real life half the time it just screws everything up. I don’t want to guilt Calder into staying. If I tell him how I feel and he stays, then I’ll never know whether he gave up the job because he returned my feelings or because he was too honorable to leave me after such a confession.
He called you perfect, I remind myself. He called you extraordinary. I’ve seen the way he looks at me. I’ve recognized the awe, the devotion. He has feelings for me—strong feelings. I’ve felt it every time he touches me.
I’ve seen him on the brink of madness, on the brink of pleasure, and everywhere in between. I’ve seen him in his power, in his lust, and I’ve seen him at his weakest and most vulnerable.
He tried to hold back. He knew this job was an amazing chance, and so he attempted to temper his feelings. I don’t blame him, just as I don’t blame him for testing the true worth of our relationship. At the end of the day, when you take away the sex and the games and the thrill, what do we have? We built our relationship on novelty and pleasure.
But it’s more than that to me now. This is more than infatuation or sexual fascination. I love him.
And if I don’t tell him, I’ll regret it forever.
I splash a bit of water on my face and take a deep breath. Maybe it’s selfish to confess my feelings for him right now, but I don’t care anymore.
I march back out to the dining room. My stomach is tying itself in knots, but my feet carry me onward. There’s no turning back now. I need to te the cobblestoned drive6Npall him or I’m going to burst.
He’s sitting at a booth in the corner. There are two cups of coffee on the table in front of him, and he’s reading a paper.
I know even before I reach him that something’s wrong. He’s not just upset about our conversation, no—his hands are curled into fists and his shoulders are rigid. He glances up when he hears me approaching, and something between fury and pain flashes in his eyes.
I stop dead in my tracks. What’s going on?
That’s when my eyes fall to the paper in front of him. It’s not just any paper—it’s the latest issue of the Intown Voice. It’s open to a picture of me—and not one of the smiling, posed photos Asher took of me in front of the Center. It’s a shot of me at my desk, twisting the ends of my hair. Probably taken right before Asher asked me to relax. I look nervous, vulnerable. The perfect victim.
I snatch the paper up from the table. The headlines reads, “Exclusive Interview! One Woman’s Sordid Affair with the Cunningham Heir.”
No. No no no no no.
My eyes skim across the first few lines: Lily Frazer sits at her desk, nervously steering me away from the questions we both know I’m here to ask. “Sometimes pledges are broken,” she tells me, her hands fluttering through her hair, “and we have to make do.” She’s referring, of course, to the things she did with Calder Cunningham in an attempt to recover the money she and her father need to maintain the Frazer Center for the Arts.
I feel like someone’s dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. “This isn’t—he didn’t…”
“So it’s true?” Calder says. “You talked to this fucker?” The accusation in his voice is like a slap across the face.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I tell him.
“Really? Because it looks like you had a nice long conversation with this guy.”
“I did, but not about this—he wanted to do a piece on the Center.”
“It certainly doesn’t look like you talked about the Center very much.”
My eyes skim over the article, and it’s even worse than I expected. Asher Julian has pieced together a version of events that’s strikingly similar to the truth—except in the way it casts Calder as a villain, a man who would manipulate a desperate girl into sleeping with him for money.
I shake my head. “You know as well as I that these people twist words around to meet their ends.”
“Then why did you agree to talk to him at all? You knew this would happen.”
“But I didn’t know! He said he wanted to do an article on the Center.”
“And you believed him?”
“It’s a local paper. He said he wanted to highlight us because we’re a valuable part of the community. Whenever he asked about you or your family, I told him I didn’t know anything.”
Calder won’t look at me. “So you know he was looking for information on me and you decided to ignore it. Decided it was worth the risk.”
I can’t believe this.
“I didn’t realize I was risking anything at the time!” I say. “The Center needed the exposure. He said our story was an inspiration. How was I supposed to know he’d go poking around behind my back?” I look at him. “You don’t really believe I’d betray you like that, do you?”