Page 70 of The Twelve Days of Christian
“Yeah, really. A pretty good one, actually. That’s why he’s so loaded. You know how dentists charge.” That also explains why the bastard’s got that toothy movie star smile I’d like to mess up with my fist. “We were at the pub one night—me, Ollie, Sam, a few others. Anyway, Jack was there. He came up to talk to Ollie, joined us in the booth. At the end of the night, he asked me if I’d like to go out for dinner sometime. He seemed nice.” She blinks and swallows. “He was nice. Until he wasn’t.”
At the hurt in her voice, I change the subject. There’s another tricky one we need to address. Might as well deal with that, too.
“Haley, there is a problem with dating me.” I have to remind her. It’s not fair to let her stumble into this blind. “Those dates might have been awful, but I bet none of them resulted in your picture plastered all over the tabloids captioned with bitchy remarks about your hair and clothes. You know it could get ugly?”
Shenods. “I know.”
And she really does. Haley’s not only had a front-row seat to the ugliness, watching the girls who’ve gone down this road before her—Waverley and Kendra, Garrett’s wife Liv, Teddy’s stream of girlfriends—all paying the price for attaching themselves to a guy in a famous rock band. She’s also had a backstage pass, seeing firsthand through Ollie’s distress the damage it does to the man as well.
She inhales a deep breath, as if already steeling herself, and sighs. “Guess it’s time to put aside any insecurities I have about myself.”
“Yeah, it is.” I lace my hand through hers. “But that’s not the worst of it. You’re going to have to trust me. Promise me you won’t doubt me when you’re bombarded with lurid and untrue details about every other woman your boyfriend’s so much as stood beside in a queue at the checkout, whether it was last week or years ago.”
“Yeah.” A swallow ripples down her slender throat. “You might need to help me with that one. Up till now, I haven’t exactly had the best outcome from trusting people.”
I offer a reassuring squeeze of my hand. “I get it. But I promise you, Haley, this boyfriend is not like him, OK?”
“Boyfriend.” It comes out softly, as if she’s trying out the sound of the word. In her tone, and those wide mossy eyes, I can’t read whether the title of boyfriend, and all the expectation that comes with it, holds attraction or triggers reluctance. I blunder on.
“Well, I assume, since you’ve told people you’re my girlfriend, that makes me your boyfriend, right?” Her slight nod is encouraging, and I take her free hand, so small in mine. With one finger, I circle her tiny palm in nervous spirals. My voice comes out low, hesitant, wary. “And I want to be, Haley. Exclusive. No one else. Are you OK with that?”
There’s a brick in my throat I can’t swallow down waiting for her answer. There’s no one else for me. Hasn’t been anyone for so long, as if I created this space for Haley, knowing the time would come for her to fill it.
For her, this thing’s so new. I don’t really have any right to ask the same of her in return, but I need to know—badly. If she says no, and she wants to see other people, I think I’ll lose my mind. The thought of her smiling that smile for some other guy, treating him to the music of her laughter, letting him put his hands on her, his mouth…
“There’s no one else. I don’t want there to be anyone else.” Green eyes meet mine, soft and true. “Let’s do this. Boyfriend. Girlfriend.” She points a finger between us. “You and me.”
Perfect answer. I slide from my seat and make my way to wrap my arms around my girlfriend. I inhale the sweet smell of her as I nuzzle into her neck.
“Sounds like I better get busy planning our first date. First impressions and all that.”
“No time for that now,” she says, whisking away my empty plate and stacking her own on top. “We’ve got a different sort of date tonight, remember?”
I groan, regretting my earlier moment of weakness. How could I have said anything but yes, when she called this afternoon, for the first time phoning me rather than sending a text? The sound of her words coming down the line was like a banquet laid out in front of a starving man, and I fell upon it gratefully, agreeing to her request without a thought. I can’t refuse this girl anything, although tonight part of me wishes I could.
Chapter 34
Day Eleven
“Perfect.” Haley straightens mybeard, a ridiculous white curly thing that resembles a small dog, looped behind my ears. She yanks down the hat so it covers the elastic twined around them, preserving the illusion that I’m no longer Christian Steele, musician, but the big fella himself, round and red and jolly. I’m still working on the last bit, given I’m only lately getting over my aversion to Christmas. How can a reforming Scrooge like me be cheerful at playing the number one role in the whole drama?
“Don’t tell Ollie,” she says, her mouth turning up in those two cute curves I love, “but I think you look more the part than he did last year.” She runs her hands across my shoulders and I almost purr at the firm squeeze. “Broader, more like Santa should be.”
“Aren’t you a little worried? That you haven’t heard from him?” I ask at the mention of her brother.
He’s certainly been on my mind since yesterday’s text. Part of me says I should have told her, but guilt made me put off bringing him into the middle of what we’ve got going on here. However, if Haley’s concerned about him, I’ll be forced to share the proof of life text. I’m hoping to avoid that.
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “You know Ollie. He loves all that travel stuff so much he probably signed on for some extra side trip, or maybe booked a few days by a hotel pool somewhere to recover after the tour.”
She’s right, Ollie is spontaneous, bouncing from one thing to the next like an unruly golden retriever with that sunshine grin lighting up his face. I’m still not sure it will be there when he finds out about Haley and me.
“Besides, you know Megan and friends will probably have a tracker on him. The record company would be all over it if one of their assets disappeared off the radar.”
She’s right about that too, and I huff out a sigh of agreement, my breath making the white beard flutter, despondent at the reminder this is my life too. Never free to go anywhere without someone knowing.
It’s another reason this illicit jaunt to the dog rescue’s kennel facility brings a strange satisfaction. The few people who are in on the secret of my whereabouts will think I’m stuck inside a house in Kensington tonight, when here I am about to climb into a cab with the girl I love, heading to spread some joy to deserving people and animals. And even though it means I’m dressed in this ridiculous suit, I’m happier than I’ve been for most days of my life.
She steps away and I stare at myself in the mirror, the real me buried deep underneath this costume. At least it fits, even though it wasn’t made for me. There’s heaps of room in the jacket to accommodate the fake paunch tied around my waist that pushes against the buttoned front, the velcro beneath straining at the sudden fifty pounds I’ve gained.
