Page 94 of All of You

“Yes. But now… I don’t know what to do, and now, he’s in the news with someone else?—”

“You know better than that, Whit. He’s not seeing anyone else. He’s miserable.”

It would have been consoling, if it hadn’t filled me with dread.

“Is he… okay?”

He nodded slowly. “He’s okay.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

That was the truth I’d been circling around for weeks now—two full weeks. I’d texted him twice the days after he’d flown back to Nashville and I was stuck in LA and got no response. I didn’t know if he’d even gotten them—maybe he’d blocked me. Or maybe he felt he had nothing to say.

Reese was silent then, thinking. He took a drink, set it down, and I wondered if my house had ever been so quiet.

“It has to come from you. It has to be in person. And you have to make him listen, because he’s already talked himself into believing he has nothing to offer you.”

“We talked about that. He knows what I think of him, that he’s?—”

“He doesn’t know. And after what you did, he’s adrift. He thought he knew, but then, when he discovered one lie, he thought he’d discovered a whole mess of them. And that’s something only you can clarify for him.”

I hated that he was right. I hated myself for ever lying and for revealing the truth in such a thoughtless way.

Well, not thoughtless. I’d thought about it for days before, and then nonstop leading up to the moment I’d done it, thinking it was right, just to realize in the moment how utterly wrong I’d been.

“I’m going home to enjoy the rest of my weekend, but if you’ll let me, I’ll give you one piece of advice about Ben.”

“Please do.” My sandpaper voice grated in my throat.

“Track him down soon, and don’t give up. I know you might be inclined to give him space, but I don’t think that’s right in this case. He’s done enough convincing himself he’s wrong for you in the last couple weeks and it was his fault for falling for you… I don’t think he’ll be able to hear you if you wait very much longer.”

I swallowed, nodded, pressed my lips together to keep myself from unleashing the sob rising in my throat. “I won’t. I promise.”

Reese left, and I walked around in a kind of numb daze the rest of the day, the rest of the weekend, savoring the moments I could be off and no one would skewer me for it.

Returning to LA had filled me with dread, because it had been the last place I’d seen Ben. If I had any question about what I felt for him, I knew now. These last few weeks, the count now at three since we’d seen each other, had taught me that I missed more than just being near him.

I missed his kindness, his strength, his easy smile, his honesty. Yes, I missed him next to me on the red carpet of the Oscars, which I walked mostly alone, though right after Jamie, so we posed for a few photos together.

“I know your secret now,” I said between photos.

Jamie raised a dark brow. “What’s that?”

“And back together, Whit? Jamie, arm around her.” The directions came from somewhere out front. We were used to it. Jamie slid a hand around my waist, my black ballgown fitting close to my skin before it flared out at my hips.

“Your secret for not caring,” I gritted through my teeth, a bright smile glamouring the cameras.

“Oh, yeah?” Jamie asked, tilting his head down to catch the best angle.

“Okay. Thanks, Whit. Thanks, Jamie,” that same voice said from behind the glare of lights and reflectors.

We both turned to continue on the carpet, Jamie escorting me. In some alternate universe, this might have been the fulfillment of a dream. No doubt it would have been for many men and women—having Jamie Morris in his stunning tux, his long hair tamed into a bun, looking for all the world like the World’s Sexiest Man he’d been voted three times in the last few years, with his hand on their back, guiding them down a red carpet.

Dreamy. For someone.

“You have someone rip out your heart.” I glanced at him just as he did toward me.

His dark eyes met mine, and I knew then I was right.

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