Page 92 of Almost Perfect
But we notably hadn’t talked about the way forward forus.It had to be soon, because I could hardly think of anything else, now that the initial crush of relief and desire and longing had been sated.
“Me too.”
And then nothing.
Our heads rested side by side on a large throw pillow, but I would’ve bet money she could hear my heart pounding in my chest. I certainly could—it felt like my whole body had been taken over by the rush of adrenaline that hit in this instant. This moment when I realized she wouldn’t bring it up… not tonight, and maybe not at all.
How would that even work? We’d just ignore she had an insanely demanding life waiting for her to return until one day she just had to go and disappeared from my life entirely?
Growing more agitated as the thoughts poured over my mind, I shifted and sat up, which caused her to do the same. Our eyes caught, and there was no way she could miss the worry on my face.
“Are we going to talk about this?” I asked, voice low and far calmer than I felt.
“About what?”
My head dropped down between my arms where they rested on my knees before glancing back up at her. “Come on, Calla. I don’t want to force you here, but at some point, we have to face reality, don’t we?”
She blanched and sat back against the couch, folding her arms. “What reality, Wyatt?”
Frustration coursed through me, followed directly by disappointment. “That you’reyou.That you have a life and a career waiting for you to get back to them. That I have no idea what we’re doing here together, and no idea when it’s going to end.”
“I wasn’t sure it had to end.”
She said it like my statement meant I wanted us to end. Like I wanted anything other than a lifetime with her, though I couldn’t figure out a way to make that happen. And yet her saying that, like she had the same desire, made no sense.
“I don’t understand what’s going on. You just went to deal with this huge thing. And yes, you’ll talk about the details of the problem, but not the reality of your life. You haven’t mentioned your label, or what you’re doing for new management, or what yourscheduleis. And I can’t help feeling like it’s by design.”
There. Got it out.
She hugged a pillow to her chest. “I don’t know about management, or my label, or even my schedule. They want me to get another album out later this year, which seems insane. They want me back there full time, immediately, to work on it.”
There it is. The truth I’d been dreading but had needed.
“And did this happen because of the interview?” My body was a pulse and nothing else. All other feeling had disappeared into the abyss of adrenaline in this moment.
“No. I was always supposed to be back in March.”
The rocks of those words tumbled down and piled on top of me. Some part of me had known that, deep down. The part that expected the worst, even though I tried to be more like Warrick and Mom.
“I see. So when you said you wanted to stay here, that was, what?”
She stood slowly, facing the fire, but then turned to me. There was no consolation in her desolate expression because it matched the landscape of my heart. When she wouldn’t speak, I pushed.
“Please help me understand, because it feels a lot like you’ve been lying to me this whole time.”
Damn, I sounded bitter, but I couldn’t hold that back. She’d been outright lying every time she said she wanted to stay here, to escape her life.
And I’d been the idiot who’d believed her. Not only that she could, but that she’d ever even want to.
It hit me—the aspect of her interview that had disturbed me but I couldn’t name. I’d chalked it up to her having to deal with this whole mess in the first place, to me not being able to help her in any tangible way. And yes, that’d bothered me.
But it was that composed way she lied about Bri. Because now, I realized just how much she’d done that same thing tome.How often had she lied to get what she needed—a change of opinion or a better option? She’d lied about everything related to a life in Silverton—particularly her intention to stay.
I felt sick in the silence, unable to look at her. When I finally did, she seemed pained, not poised. That provided a modicum of relief, though maybe I shouldn’t admit that. It might make me awful, but knowing she couldn’t keep that mask in place with me, right now, helped.
She swallowed, then cleared her throat. “I’ve lied to you, yes, but not intentionally. I didn’t plot this out and try to get you to—to be with me.”
Her words settled between us, and I mined them and her tone andeverythingI could scrape up for evidence. It all sounded true. And I had to admit my part of it.
