Page 90 of Almost Perfect
But I couldn’t keep doing that. I had to get back to work, and my label had jumped on the turning tide to say I needed to get into the studio and ride this wave of good favor.
I hadn’t ever imagined I’d make a swing from disgraced failure to sympathetic figure overnight, but here I sat, the fickle nature of fame giving me exactly what I had made sure not to want. I’d given up on believing Miss Mayhem’s career trajectory could change so thoroughly and quickly. Maybe it’d been the inability to see past losing Candy and all the confused, compacted history there, but I truly had not imagined that being open could do that.
I doubted I had the capacity for that interview months ago. The time in the mountains, writing and crying and opening myself up, had changed me. The woman in that interview was CallaandMayhem. Almost as though I had to lose it first before I could find it, my dream had been restored.
Granted, it wasn’t like the interview aired and everything changed overnight. But much of the vitriol did change on a dime, the press recognizing the public’s sympathy for me and rolling with it. I still had failed albums, but I didn’t have a trashy, criminal of a manager, and that was a start. I had no idea about the way forward for my actual music, but my reputation was no longer that of a drug-dealing daughter.
So, restoration in a way I couldn’t imagine. An undeserved and unanticipated gift.
The only problem now was that my dream had shifted. And in turn, the thing I did want, more than anything I’d ever conceived of, would be sacrificed. If I didn’t stop myself, my wanting Wyatt would poison him the same way my wanting success had poisoned my career. I couldn’t do that.
He wouldn’t leave Utah, and if he did, he’d hate it. Plus, he wanted that simplicity that I couldn’t give. He’d agreed to try with me, but I couldn’t convince myself he meant try like come with me to LA and live out his life as a popstar’s partner.
“That’s enough, Rice. Just do it.”
With no one around to hear me reprimand myself, I cleared my throat, firmed my shoulders, and dialed Grenier. It was time to face Wyatt, to finally be honest and end things before one of us got hurt.
* * *
By the time the plane landed in Silverton after a genuinely harrowing approach thanks to winds and the mountain air making things interesting, I could hardly sit still. All my concerns and determination to face reality with Wyatt had balled into a knot in my chest. As soon as the captain parked and the flight attendant told me I could unbuckle, I sprang out of my seat and nearly ran down the stairs and into the terminal.
Wyatt stood just inside the doors, looking casual and gorgeous and so handsome, it made my hands shake.
I love you.
The words were right there.Right there. But I couldn’t say them now, or ever.
I thought it might be awkward to see him, to touch him, especially after the hours on the plane heightening my need for him right along with my dread over what we had to deal with. We hadn’t discussed the interview more than him congratulating me on a job well done and mentioning the headlines changing in my favor a day later. I had no idea what opinion of me he had.
But before I could console myself that at least he’d come to pick me up like he’d said he would, he opened his arms, and without a single thought in my head, I stepped into them. He wrapped me up in his warm embrace, our necks curving in toward each other so our whole bodies held the other.
My heart beat wildly, but a part of me that had felt unmoored now clicked into place. Because of him.
“I missed you,” he said, his lips brushing my neck, then kissing the place just behind my ear, then my head, then my cheek. The dizzying combination of sensual and sweet had my pulse pounding all through me. His blue eyes found mine, and he smiled a heart-slaying, soft smile. “So much.”
“Me too.”
I kept it short, but I could’ve gone on and on. Maybe I should’ve, so he’d know how much he meant to me. How constantly I’d thought of him, wished he’d been with me on the flight there, and back, at the set for the interview, in my horrid empty house. But I knew what had happened when I let myself want him, and so I resisted now, even now, to save us both.
“Let’s get you home.” He took my bag and shouldered it, then grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him.
Home. I’d been thinking of coming home to him, even while I stayed at my house in LA. It felt nothing like being with him. Being here felt right and calm, even if it meant I had to force a heaping pile of reality out of my mind.
The Utah late February air hit like a slap to the face, and we both jogged to his truck. At least it was dry, but it almost felt colder like this.
Once inside, he cranked on the engine. “Let me just let Warrick know I got you.”
I hid my smile, strangely pleased that Warrick would want to know. I shot a text to Quinn, Dahlia, and Sarah, who’d been stalwart new friends through this ordeal by texting in our group message about what a jerk Rad was, though they didn’t know his name. I’d told them it was someone who worked for me, and they’d gone off.
It was so like Jenna’s response, it made me wish I had more time with them. And so I’d told them as soon as I got back, we’d do dinner. Since it was midweek, meeting up during the day would be trickier, so we’d planned for tomorrow night. It’d be great to catch up, even if I’d miss the time with Wyatt.
And I could tell, I’d miss it. Just now, I didn’t want to be anywhere else, or with anyone else. Already, it felt like he sat too far away. Like our bodies and mouths should betogether. But we had a bit of a drive ahead of us, and I couldn’t be pulling off the side of the road to have my wicked way with the man without some risk of getting caught by photographers.
He started driving as my fingers tapped out my final message—an eye roll emoji to their messages about enjoying my time tonight. Lots of winky faces and heart eyes, like they knew the reunion would be sweet.
A thrill of anticipation raced through me as I glanced at the man next to me.
Goodness, he’d gotten even more good-looking in the time I’d been gone. I’d seen the paparazzi shots of him—there were at least three in town now. I hated that, but at least there wouldn’t be any issues with photos tonight.
