Page 98 of Beauty
“You do care,” I snap back. “And it’s important to me that you know the truth.” I suck in a breath, waiting for her to shut me down. I’m shocked as shit when she remains silent, scrutinizing my face, but I gather my wits quickly and get on with it. “I met her before I met you. She was pregnant before I met you.That’swhy I was on that trip. Hannah sent me because I was freaking out over the idea of becoming a father. Because she wanted me to have a few days of peace before my life got turned upside down.”
Her eyes widen and dart around the galley, like she’s piecing it all together.
My chest tightens. Fuck. Is it possible I’m actually getting through to her?
Maybe not, but I take a risk and step closer anyway, cupping her cheek. Then, voice low, I give her the complete truth. “Jen and I were never in a relationship. I never felt for her what I feel for you. I’ve never felt foranyonewhat I feel for you.” I brush my thumb over her beauty mark, wishing I could press my lips to it instead. “And Ihaven’tbeen with anyone since you. You havenothingto be insecure or jealous about.”
Sienna blinks at me, her expression unreadable. Dammit, I wish I knew what she was thinking. But for now, I take solace in the ability to touch her. She hasn’t backed up, and she hasn’t swatted my hand away. That has to mean something, right?
“I’m not jealous. I’m—” She blows out a breath, her body going stiff. She takes a step back, as if she’s only now noticed my hand on her face.
Her jaw hardens and her glare returns, suddenly making it clear what she’s thinking. She’s pissed. Definitely at me and maybe at herself for allowing me to get so close.
“My entire life fell apart last year,” she says. “I’m clawing my way back from a depression that I hope you never understand. I lost everything.” Her voice warbles on the last word, but she pulls her shoulders back and continues. “My company, my designs, my ability to do theonething I’m good at. Now, I’m finally feeling a little like myself again.”
I reach for her hand. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
She pulls her hand back and holds it up, keeping me in place. “We can’t keep doing this. You’re going to blow up both our lives.” The pain in her voice, the desperation, guts me. I had no idea how difficult her life was while we were apart, and the thought of her suffering makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. So when she storms past me, I let her go.
THIRTY-THREE
SIENNA
Cat: Look at this monstrosity.
My phone chimes again,and a screenshot pops up. I tap on it and scan the details, eyes narrowed and assessing. The image includes several designs by artists I know well.
In fact, an email from the group of them never would have made it anywhere near Catherine Bouvier’s inbox if not for the pretty settlement fund that has bankrolled their careers.
The lines are all wrong. The fabric is cheap, and the general design is shoddy. Unoriginal too. Each piece is a rip-off of items in a collection I started three years ago and scrapped.
I roll my eyes. As if taking my money wasn’t enough, they took my designs and didn’t even do them justice.
Me: You know I can’t comment.
Cat: You’re no fun.
Me:
Cat: Drinks tonight?
Me: Can’t. I’m traveling with the team. Can you do next Wednesday?
Cat: Yes! Let’s go to Allure.
Me: Stop trying to get me to go to your family’s sex club. It’s weird.
Cat:
Cat: We can sit at the bar. I’m not asking you to play.
I roll my eyes. Why is everything that comes out of this woman’s mouth laced with innuendo?
Me: I’ll keep you posted.
Cat: Please do, because there’s a position I’d love to discuss with you.
Me: I’ve got a job.
