“Because I’m not. I used to be but I let that dream go. I’m a composer and a producer. That’s more than enough for me.” Jackson held her close as they swayed to the music.
“I’d still love to hear you sing. I only wish I could sing or play an instrument.”
“I’ll teach you to play.”
“But you can’t teach me to sing,” she teased. “If I could sing I think I’d be doing it all the time. Around the house, in the shower. Just everywhere.”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Ridley. Just leave it alone.”
She cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… Sorry.”
The song ended and everyone broke out into applause. He could feel Ridley’s eyes on him as they walked back to their table.
“Do you mind if we cut out a little early? I just needed to put in an appearance.” He pulled his valet ticket out of his pocket.
“Of course.” She collected her wrap and purse and trotted to keep up with him.
He could only hope he’d responded appropriately to everyone who spoke to him on the way out. Once the valet brought his car around, he helped Ridley into the passenger side and then handed the guy a bill.
“Thank you, sir!”
By the young man’s wide eyes, he’d probably over tipped by a lot but he didn’t even care. Looking for a smaller bill would have taken time. It was worth just about any price to get the hell out of there.
They rode in silence for a few minutes before Ridley said, “Thank you for inviting me tonight.”
Jackson stifled a bitter laugh. She was too polite to say what she was really thinking. She shouldn’t have been thanking him for treating her like that. It wasn’t her fault that he’d rather do almost anything than sing these days.
He was starting to understand why Matt had punched a hole in his wall. The anger inside him was an ugly, potent thing and it seemed more than happy to shred his insides in lieu of another escape route.
He sat up straighter and gripped the steering wheel tighter. It was raining lightly and he, of all people, knew how treacherous a little water on the roads could be.
“I’m sorry if I bit your head off back there. I just don’t like talking about it.”
Ridley shrugged. Jackson looked over at her. She continued to stare out the window at the passing scenery.
“Come on, Ridley. I said I was sorry. I’m admitting I was an ass.”
“I’m not angry with you,” she said finally. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
He cursed. The memories roiled around in his brain and he had a feeling they were on the verge of boiling over. It was probably best that they’d left early. It wasn’t Ridley’s fault that he was in a shitty mood and he didn’t want to take it out on her any more than he already had.
He trusted her more than any other woman he’d been with since his wife’s death. He didn’t want to expose her to the very worst side of him there was. He didn’t ever want her to look at him with condemnation in her eyes.
“I gave up on my solo career when my wife died.”
He felt more than saw her turn. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, her eyes had the ability to splice his emotions down the middle. Right now, all he could feel was her pity. It was rolling off of her in waves.
“It’s fine. I didn’t tell you so you can feel sorry for me. I just want you to understand that it isn’t personal. ”
They rode the rest of the way home in silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“SO, I GUESS I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ridley nodded sadly and turned down the hall to her room. She closed the door behind her and dropped her purse and wrap on the bed.
“So much for my perfect night.”
After kicking off her shoes and hanging her dress up, she unhooked her bra with a sigh of relief. She sifted throughout the array of clothes in the suitcase she’d brought from Raina’s house until she found a lacy, silk nightgown. If she was going to be depressed, at least she could wear something pretty.
It was tempting to just drop into the bed but she knew she’d pay the price if she didn’t remove her makeup. She walked into the bathroom and took her earrings and necklace off. Her reflection stared back at her. It was crazy that she could look fine when she felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. She pulled the pins out of her hair and massaged her scalp.
There was a knock on the door just as she was soaping her face. “Just a minute,” she called out.
She hurriedly rinsed and then dried her face with a hand towel. When she left the bathroom, Jackson was sitting on the bed.
“Hey. I thought you were going to bed.”
“I was but I’m not tired. Not even slightly.” He looked up at her and Ridley shivered at the pain in his eyes. “I can’t go to sleep with you thinking that I won’t talk about it because I don’t trust you. Especially when nothing could be further from the truth.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.” She was suddenly exhausted. Tired of trying to figure out where she stood with him and tired of wondering if he felt anything for her beyond lust. “I just want to go to bed.”
He didn’t move, just sat staring at his hands. She was just about to tell him to get out when he finally spoke.
“My obsession with my music is the reason my wife is dead.”
Ridley gulped, suddenly sure that whatever he was going to tell her, she didn’t want to hear. “Jackson, don’t—”