Page 154 of Faking the Pass
This was an absolute nightmare.
Presley was saying things I’d longed to hear from him for what felt like my whole life. But the fact remained that this was for the best.
His best. He would eventually see that, though his pride was clearly hurting right now.
If I stayed, Randy would absolutely make good on his threats to ruin Presley’s life. I’d be taking away not only his money but his lifelong ambition and goals for his career.
But it wasn’t just altruism that made me accept Randy’s deal.
If I stayed, I’d always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Presley to start hating me for crushing his dreams.
He would change his mind about me being “the one” and leave me.
The pain was already staggering. It would only get worse the longer I stayed with him and the more I allowed myself to see him as a real husband.
Looking down at his hand reaching for me, I forced myself to say words I despised.
“I don’t.”
It was the biggest lie I’d ever told, and I was afraid he’d see right through it.
“Bullshit,” Presley said. “You love me as much as I love you.”
Pressure built behind my eyes, and I took a step back, away from that outstretched hand. It felt like a supermagnet trying to pull me in.
Calling on every bit of acting skill I possessed, I clenched my stomach muscles and balled my hands, willing the lies out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry you don’t believe me, but I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this… pretending. Everyone knew it was destined to fail. It’s time we admitted it too.”
Presley’s wounded expression made me sick to my stomach. I pressed my fists against it to keep from throwing up.
“Is that what your heart is saying?” he asked in a ragged voice. “Or is that Randy’s voice coming out of your mouth again? What is your intuition telling you?”
I shook my head. “I told you… I can’t trust it. I’ve made too many stupid choices.”
“You are theonlyone who thinks you’re stupid,” Presley said, “though frankly, you’re acting like it right now if you refuse to see what’s going on here.”
Fury roughened his voice and made his light hazel eyes glow with intensity.
“If you can’t trust me after all we’ve been through—and more importantly trust yourself, your own feelings and instincts—then there is no point in ever seeing each other again. I’ll sign your damn papers.”
Slapping the packet of documents on the bench behind him, he turned and scribbled his name in the blank lines indicated by sticky tabs, flipping page after page and signing them without even reading them first.
Then he straightened and turned back to me, shoving the stack in my direction.
“Did you want me to sign an NDA agreement as well?” he growled.
My heart was blocking my throat, and tears streamed down my face. Noticing them, Presley’s tone softened just a fraction.
“I’ll call Wilder and ask him to send a car for you. It should be here in a few minutes,” he said.
“And I’ll have someone take your suitcases to the airport. The ticket home is on me. I know you said, ‘no gifts,’ but I guess your little contract is moot now anyway. I don’t want you flying home on Randy’s plane like some whipped puppy with its tail between its legs.”
“Once you get back to L.A., what you do or don’t do with him is on you,” Presley said. “I hope you’ll be happy, Rosie. Have a safe trip home.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me breathless and alone.
Home.Oddly enough, that felt like the place Presley was heading, not Los Angeles where I’d be going today.
