Page 72 of Mother Pucker

“They’re doing the best they can, and if need be, we’re going to spin this as something related to your treatment, but Slick, I need to know the truth right now. Are you seeing your PT?”

My previously galloping heart is now in full sprint mode. I look at Shay's worried face. “Can I get back to you in a few minutes, Bradley? I’m not in the best . . . uh, location. You’re cutting out. Let me call you when I get a better signal.”

“Rowan–” Bradley says right as I hang up. Right now isn’t the time to answer him, and I don’t really know how to answer his question, anyway. What’s important now is to update Shay, since this concerns her. She should have a say in how we proceed.

“What’s going on?” she asks as soon as I click off my phone screen.

I wrap my hands over her biceps. “Someone took pictures of us holding hands and looking at each other a certain way in front of Zach’s restaurant in California. The pictures don’t show your face completely, but some sources are speculating it’s my PT.”

“What!” She jumps off the bed, the blood draining from her face.

I get up as well, disregarding the fact that I’m completely naked. Taking a step toward her, I pull her to me again. “My agent is handling it. The Langfield PR team is top-notch, so I don’t think we have to worry–”

“Don’t have to worry?” Shay rubs her face with her palms. “Shit! Rowan, this is exactly what I was worried about. This isexactlywhat I told you from the beginning. What do you mean, we don’t have toworry?”

I cup her face in my hands. “I know, sweetheart. But you have to trust me. I will work all day and night if I have to, to make sure the pictures are taken down and any speculation that it was you gets removed from online.”

She breaks away from my grasp and paces the room. “This could cost me my career, Rowan.” Her lips tremble. “This could ruin my reputation as a reliable or trustworthy PT.”

I cover the distance between us, holding her by her hips. “Shay, look at me.” I wait for her to look up, and when she does, I continue, “This is all just specula–”

“Don’t you see? It may be speculationright now, but what about next time? What happens when they see me enter or leave your apartment from now on? Will they suspect we have more than just a professional relationship? Gossip travels like wildfire on the internet. How do I know I won’t have people following me the next time we meet?”

I stare at her silently. She’s freaking out, and I don’t blame her. It’s exactly what she was worried about, and now it’s happening. So, I want to hear her out. I need her to know I’m right here, listening.

“God, this is such a mess.” She puts a hand on her forehead. “I knew this would be a bad idea. I knewwewere a bad idea. I should have listened to my gut and stayed away.”

Ouch.

Her eyes widen as if she just realized she said those last sentences out loud. “I’m sorry, Rowan. I didn’t mean that . . .” She drops her face into her trembling hands. “I don’t know what I’m saying or doing. I’m just scared–”

“I know, and it’s okay.” I tug her toward me, and she presses her face into the middle of my chest. We’re both quiet for a few long moments, reeling in light of the situation.

My stomach feels tight, my arms heavy around her, as I think about the consequences of this going south, if the PR team can’t get those reports down and clear her name. This could be catastrophic for her, as she rightly said.

Fuck! What was I thinking, holding her hand outdoors? Why wasn’t I more careful? This is all my fucking fault. I have to accept accountability for all of it, just as I have to accept that she holds the fate of our relationship in her hands.

I lift her face so I’m looking down at her again, my heart thumping against my chest. I weigh the words I’m about to ask on my tongue, wondering how a perfectly great evening turned into this. “Do you want to stay away from me now?”

She hesitates, blinking the mist from her eyes. My heart drops when her hands wrap around my wrists. “I need to think about everything.”About us.Those are the words she leaves out.“This is just . . .” She takes in a trembling breath, breaking away from me. My arms feel weightless without her. “I just need time, Rowan.”

I nod, watching her hang her purse over her shoulder. “My agent wanted to know if the nature of our relationship was anything but professional.” My words feel heavy on my tongue. “Is that what you want me to tell him? That we’re nothing but professional? He needs the truth.”

Her hands hang by her sides, but she closes her eyes as if trying to process it all. “I . . . I don’t know, Rowan.” She presses her lips together, shaking her head, and I don’t miss the heave of her chest. “Yes? No?” She shrugs. “I don’t know right now.”

It’s like a fucking thousand-ton block dropped into my stomach.She doesn’t know. . .She doesn’t know where we stand.

I watch her leave my room, my heart a fucking pretzel inside my chest, before I grab a fistful of my hair. My mind buzzes, warring between letting her leave and pulling her back and talking this out.

And though I know I can’t force her to talk to me right this second, I do need to tell her something that changes the terms and conditions of how we started. It isn’t the time or the way I intended to tell her, but it’s now or later, and later doesn’t seem like it bodes well for me.

Getting my boxer-briefs on, I rush after her, opening my front door and finding her right as she’s getting into the elevator.Lifting my arms to keep the doors open, I hold her surprised gaze.

“I know you have to think, and I respect that. But I need you to think about one more thing, sweetheart.” I swallow, hoping to tamper the drumming inside my chest. “This was never afriends with benefitssituation for me; it’s always been more. So, when you take your time to think, just know there’s one more decision you’ll have to make–whether you want to go the distance with this because I’m ready to conquer every fucking mile and obstacle, if it means I get to do it with you.”

twenty-three

shay

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