Page 82 of Almost Perfect
Bitter, much?
“He did. The plane’s already here, and they’re going to de-ice and get the pilot. Should be ready in about two hours.”
God bless you, Julian Grenier!But the minute I thought it, my heart sank. My silly, sick heart, that’d fallen hard for a good man. Awonderfulman. The kind of man I wish my mom had found at some point, and that women everywhere would love to have.
But you can’t keep him.
That truth struck me at my core, deep and wounding. This one would mean bleeding out eventually. But for now, I’d pack it with, uh, whatever they packed terrible injuries with, and keep moving. I had to deal with this crapstorm once and for all. My life couldn’t progress until I’d seen to that. The reverberations of Candy’s death and my general failings wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, but I had to clarify that I hadn’t had a hand in her death.
I blocked out the voice that attempted to tell me I had.
I hadn’t.
I hadn’t.
I’d been working through my feelings on that issue through songwriting and reflection and generally grieving openly for the time I was here. I could tell even those darker thoughts didn’t pack as much punch now that I’d let myself look closely at how messed up things between us had always been and still admit I’d loved her.
But right now, I had no time to spend on feelings-sorting.
“You’ll need to be there at least a half hour early. Can you get there in time?”
Kristoffer spoke in his usual measured, patient tone. Never condescending, and apparently never ruffled. Thank goodness, because I was one snag in the material away from a meltdown. If I stopped now and let the revelations about Wyatt crash down right along with the media’s arrival, I wouldn’t move forward.
“Yes. I’ll make it happen. I’m packing now, and I can get a ride down there.”
“Good. Call me when you’re in the car.”
I confirmed I would as I piled items into my bag and hung up. Via text, I asked Wyatt if he’d drive me to the airport. For half a second, I thought about asking Warrick, the cowardly part of me nervous to face Wyatt in the midst of this and confirm what I’d just discovered. As much as I feared seeing him and knowing I had to leave right when I’d figured out how I felt about him, I trusted him. I loved him, apparently, so even though I knew so much of the drive and certainly the goodbye would hurt, I wantedhim.
And hopefully, if he was the man I thought he was, he’d forgive me. Eventually.
In twenty more minutes, I’d done my best to tidy up the mess in the kitchen, start the dishwasher several days later than I should’ve, and generally put the place back together. As far as I knew, I’d be coming back, but I didn’t want either Saint brother wandering in and being horrified by the mess I’d left. The cleaning service wasn’t due for another day or so.
Wyatt’s knock startled me from the sticky tangle of thoughts. I pulled the door open and walked right out, not taking in his face or the concern I knew would be written there. Just being near him sent my already racing, adrenaline-fueled heart into overdrive.
He opened the truck door and took my bag. I hauled myself in and closed it for myself as he moved around the vehicle to his side. I could practically hear the words clouding the chilly air between us.
I couldn’t get past two things. First, I was in love with this man, and sitting close to him made me feel something like panic and peace at the same time. I felt those mingle together, inextricable from each other, even when I’d been knocked off-kilter by waking up in his bed and expecting another beautiful day with him to discovering someone had leaked my location and the media was having a field day.
And they were. They were reporting on my being here like I was a murderer hiding out in the mountains. Like I’d slunk away from LA to escape the consequences of my actions.
In some ways, perhaps that was what I’d done. I’d definitely wanted escape. But not because I was guilty. Because I was sad and lonely and horribly burnt out in a soul-deep way.
I inhaled slowly, begging my body and mind to calm down.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked quietly, navigating us to the main road.
“Kristoffer’s working on bumping up my interview for the tell-all to sometime in the next two days if at all possible. In that, I’ll acknowledge being here, but since I’m from here originally, we think it’ll be fine. My bio has always said ‘woman of the world,’ so no one knows that, and I think it’ll help.”
He nodded, and the muscle in his jaw flexed.
“I actually need to call Kristoffer on the ride if that’s okay. I’m hoping my phone will have service in the canyon. Do you mind?”
He glanced at me with a small frown but shook his head. “Of course not. Do whatever you need to do.”
So I did. The ride down to Silverton’s airport was a little shorter than to the town itself, so sooner than I would’ve liked, we pulled up to the small terminal. My stomach had tied itself into a square knot.
“What can I do?” Wyatt said as I hung up my call.
