Page 78 of All of You

“And if I told you how brain-meltingly beautiful I find you every time I see you, whether you’re dressed up or lounging next to me on the couch, or if I told you how more than once, your voice has brought me to tears, even before I knew you, would you have wanted to sign a contract for me to be your fake boyfriend?”

She swallowed, her face all serious now.

I dipped my head and told her one last truth. “And if I told you that I want you so much, sometimes when you’re near me, I find it hard to breathe, that my mind curses myself for ever making a vow of celibacy that keeps me from having you every way we both want, would you believe me?”

She studied my face, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming fast, just like mine. Then, out of the clouds and tearing us away from that fraught moment, she loosed a wide, brilliant smile. “So you think I’m pretty amazing, huh?”

I shook my head and didn’t stop as I appealed to the ceiling. “Lord save me. What have I done?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Whit

Low of me—I was better than that. I knew I was, and yet, Ben’s incredibly persistent reassurance was exciting, and good grief, did it make me feel good. Happy.

No. More than happy. Even with the awards coming and the stress tugging at so many parts of me, even though I could genuinely say if I didn’t win a thing, I’d be fine.

Yeah—just fine. I wouldn’t be happy I didn’t win. That wasn’t in me, and it never would be. But I’d be just fine, and a big part of that thinking stemmed from having Ben in my life. I’d been more alone than I’d ever realized until he came along and showed me—not only how lonely I’d been, but how wonderful it was to be with someone who I could just be with. I didn’t have to be on, I didn’t have to be working, I didn’t have to produce, or charm, or create. I could laugh and show him the good and bad.

And last night had been the bad. I knew it. It had been fishing, and I should have been more ashamed than I was. But he’d handled it beautifully, not calling me manipulative, but generously giving me what I needed, even if I was pained to admit it.

The bonus, too, was that now I knew a bit about his boundary, one that was clear even though thus far, it’d been unspoken. He’d made some kind of vow, and I’d bet it had something to do with his friend’s loss, or something.

We’d need to talk about that specifically. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle this closeness without actually getting to be fully together, because I was attracted to Ben in a way I never had been with anyone else. I wanted him in a way I never had anyone else.

I hadn’t dated many people. I dated one kid at the private school I went to in high school, though my freedom at that time had been so limited because I was practicing for six hours or more a day. In retrospect, I can identify times I’d had off, but during those years where I was starting to feel the suffocating effects of my parents’ insistence on piano and inability to talk about or hear anything else from me, I’d felt cornered. Relationships had been essentially impossible, and the kid hadn’t been interested in the limited access plan I was on.

And over the course of the last few years, I’d dated on and off, but I wasn’t someone who could connect with a person on a first date at a restaurant when everyone was listening in. Jamie and I had snuck up on each other by working together, but that relationship never went very far physically, and I think we were both glad for that since we enjoyed an easy friendship that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.

Maybe that was the magic of how I met Ben—I met him outside of the Nashville spotlight. And then, we’d spent time together in a casual setting, no date pressure, and it had been him showing me about his world at Fort Campbell, not me talking about music or taking him to an event.

Whatever the case, Ben was the person I felt the most for, and it was equal parts exciting and terrifying.

I want you so much, sometimes when you’re near me, I find it hard to breathe, that my mind curses myself for ever making a vow of celibacy that keeps me from having you every way we both want.

Was he trying to seduce me? Clearly not, but between the fire-laced look the other day in my room and his words last night… I didn’t like the feeling that my heart was being held in someone else’s hands, and that was how I was beginning to feel.

Not completely, of course. I’d added in my songwriter’s embellishment. But I was on increasingly shaky ground with myself as I continued to care for Ben, but hadn’t told him about the song.

When he left last night, I knew I should have just told him. I wanted him to know. And my stupid remark about him liking Taylor Swift who’d write a song about him… could I have been a bit more on the nose? “Stolen Moment” wasn’t a dating song, but it was a kind of love song, and I wished I’d told him the night we met. Or the next time I saw him. Or on tour. Or any other chance I could have taken that I’d wussed out on.

Now, I’d backed myself into a corner, and it welled in me, what I was going to do, and I prayed he’d be okay with it.

“Whit, honey, tilt your head up,” Amanda said, one finger on my chin to assist.

I was dog-tired, and just sitting up in the chair was killing me. I’d let myself float around in my head for the first half hour of hair and makeup, but the time had come to tune in.

I let out a long sigh and resisted the urge to slump. I’d not slept last night, and I don’t sleep on planes—I just can’t. We were done with rehearsals and heading out for some promotional shots the show would use the day-of, so I needed full hair and make-up. I wanted to go to the hotel and sleep for a day. Somehow, the drive up to the awards was making me drag in a way I didn’t usually.

Ben and I had been messaging through the day—my only highlight. I felt greedy for his words, his face, his voice. I wanted him in front of me, wished he could have come with me for the whole trip.

I understood why not. I did. But I couldn’t help wondering if maybe he could find something more flexible after the Army so maybe he could just… come with me all the time.

Whoa.

I’d been having more of those thoughts. More of those future-focused thoughts that betrayed what I already knew but wasn’t ready to admit.

“And open,” Amanda said, her minty breath wafting over my face as she finished brushing on eyeshadow. She stood back and looked back and forth between my eyes, held up a brush to one side and the other, measuring the liner. “Good. You can’t tell how exhausted you are.”

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