Page 58 of Breathing Wisteria
She’s taken us both down with one story.
Motherfucker.
“It’s everywhere,” Campbell tells me, mirroring my pacing on the other side of the room. “It’s been picked up by every entertainment news site.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
We both turn to see Wyatt standing on the threshold of the living room, her eyes dim, and her arms wrapped around her torso, hugging herself.
“She’s saying you had a termination.” Campbell’s voice is impassive. Straightforward and to the point has always been his modus operandi, and I don’t think I have ever resented it as much as I do right now when I see the look of unadulterated devastation on my girl’s face.
“Jesus, Cam.” I move across the room, reaching her in six short strides that seem to take six long hours, and pull her to me, holding her tight.
I feel her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath. She curls into me, grasping my arms, but despite this appearance of vulnerability, when she looks over my shoulder and speaks to Campbell, her voice is strong. The take-no-prisoners Wyatt I fell in love with all those years ago.
“I would never do that.Never. You get your ass out there and you make sure there is no one on thisplanetwho doubts that. Do you understand me?”
My ears are filled with the sounds of a soaring orchestral score that I’m considering incorporating in the song I am currently writing, but my eyes are glued to Wyatt.
Her easel is set up in front of the window overlooking Central Park and her hand is moving at a lightning pace, the brush making dramatic strokes across the canvas. Despite the brightness of the scene before her, her depiction is dark and powerful.
Her back is straight, shoulders tense, and she has her earphones in, using music to silence the world around her.
The last two weeks have been a fucking nightmare. Our interview made no impact at all. Apparently, the idea of us as two lust-fuelled psychotics, who were driven to extremes in order to torment each other, was a much more believable story than two kids who experienced a life-changing loss.
Wyatt has been doing her best, but I see how much she’s struggling. Every whispered comment has her eyes dimming a little more. Every blazing headline sends her retreating into her art.
I’m terrified I’m going to lose her again and that fear means that I have spent the last two weeks angry as hell, ready to lash out at whoever pisses me off.
The only thing that centers me is getting my hands on Wyatt.
I remove my headphones and stalk toward her. When I wrap my hands around her waist and place a kiss on her neck, she startles.
Quickly recovering, she hits my arm with her paintbrush, leaving a streak of deep violet behind, and laughs.
“You scared me, you dick.”
I chuckle against her shoulder, breathing in her perfumed skin, that evokes the memory of roses, wisteria, and spice. It’s uniquely her and it soothes my chaotic heart.
“That looks incredible.” I nod toward her painting, pulling her back against me.
“Mmmm,” she murmurs before she starts chewing on the end of the paintbrush, thoughtfully.
“You doing okay?” My lips graze her lobe and I bite down gently.
She shivers, then sighs softly, leaning back into my hold. “You don’t have to keep asking me that, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. This just— It sucks, and I feel responsible for it all, so I want to make sure you’re doing okay.” I slide her hair across her shoulder, exposing her neck and admiring the contrast between the vivid hue of her hair and her pale skin. “I’m always going to make sure you’re okay, you’re gonna have to get used to it.”
She balances the paintbrush along the top of the easel and turns to face me, her arms winding around my neck. Standing on her tiptoes, she leans up and kisses my chin.
“This has been so much harder than I thought it would be, I’m not going to lie. There are times when the things they’re saying just— It hurts, Irish. In a place I didn’t think I could be hurt anymore. But…” Her hands slide up to hold my face in place, so I’m looking her right in the eye. “This isnotyour fault. The only person responsible for this shit show is that bitch and karma will take care of her, I have no doubt.”
When her mouth takes mine, I sink into the kiss and try to ignore the sliver of doubt I saw in her eyes.
“You sure you’re good?”
Her eyes snap to me in frustration. “Yes, I’m good, will you stop asking me that!”
