Page 33 of Breathing Wisteria
“It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.”
There is a note of regret in her voice that I loathe and the instinct to protect her kicks in.
“Yeah, you do.” Her eyes brighten slightly, silently encouraging me to go on. “She says she won’t post the story if I give her backstage access on the tour.”
“She’s bribing you?” Her voice vibrates with indignation.
“Don’t sound so surprised, baby, those people will do anything to get a story.”
“But it’s so disgusting! What kind of person does that?”
“The shitty kind. But I’ll do it if you want me to. Just say the word.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “You are not giving her what she wants.” Her face softens, and she continues. “You don’t need to save me, Flynn. I can do that all by myself.”
“I know you can,” I agree because there’s not a doubt in my mind that’s true. “But that’s what we do. We save each other.”
She snorts out a laugh and pulls the collar of her sweatshirt over her mouth, mumbling something.
“I didn’t catch any of that, try again.”
She looks at me, her gaze contrite. “We’ve been doing a pretty crappy job of it.”
“Fuck that. You’ve been saving me since the day I met you. We might have gotten lost along the way, but we’re going to fix that.” My voice is determined, challenging her to disagree with me.
She stands abruptly and begins pacing the small room.
“Flynn, you need to listen to me and actually hear what I’m saying.” She moves to the sofa and sits down but stays far enough away to be out of reach. “You and I are not going to happen.”
I unconsciously move toward her, the pull too much to resist.
“You and I already happened. We are happening.” I reach out and run a finger along her collarbone, relishing the goose bumps that chase my touch. “We will always be happening.”
She jerks back, pulling away from me and shakes her head.
“We need to get a divorce.” Her voice is soft, resigned, and she stands, making a concerted effort to distance herself from me. “We should’ve done it a long time ago. It was so stupid to think we would never have to deal with it.” Once again, she moves closer to me and I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it. But the push and pull is obvious to me.
“I can’t afford a lawyer, but I trust you. If you get the papers drawn up, I’ll sign them. I don’t want anything, so it should be quick and painless.”
When she’s finished her bullshit rambling, I stand, slowly unfurling myself from the sofa and stalk toward her.
She must sense my aggravation because she begins to back away, a look of defiance on her face. When her back hits the wall, I lift my arms and cage her in. I lower my face, gliding my nose along hers, only stopping when my mouth is a breath away from her own.
“You think ending us would be painless?” I shake my head, bemused.
“We. Are. Not. Getting. Divorced.” My lips ghost across hers and I have to stifle a smirk when a shiver runs through her. “Say it with me, Cherry.”
It’s possible I have taken it too far because as the words leave my mouth, her eyes, which were glazed over only seconds ago, clear now and she pushes me away.
“Yes, we are.” She moves across the room and pulls the door open aggressively. “Now, you need to leave.”
“We need to talk about what’s going to happen. You’re not prepared to deal with the press.”
She shrugs her shoulder petulantly and levels me with a cold glare.
“Lots of crazy people shoving cameras in my face and screaming questions at me. Nothing you say is going to prepare me for that. Now, go.”
There’s no point in me standing here arguing with her, not when she’s like this, so I walk toward the door, doing my best to keep my face indifferent.
I walk past her and just as I hear the door start to close behind me, I stop.
“Wyatt?”
“Ugh, what?”
“We’re really not, though.”
