Page 8 of The Temptation of Truth
“I was really looking forward to you coming with us. I’m going to be lonely without you.”
She laughs and lies back down on the bed, turning to face me.
“I’ll see you in Auckland.”
“That’s too far away.” I poke my lip out in a pout, bringing a smile to her face. “What if you stay for a few more hours? Have coffee with me, at least. It will help soothe the ache of you bailing on our trip last minute.”
My girlfriend’s smile turns sympathetic. “You know I can’t. I’ve got the event. I have to get to glam.”
“The event with Kaz?” I try to keep the jealousy out of my voice, but the look on Kat’s face tells me I did a shit job.
“Yes, with Kaz.”
I purse my lips and nod slowly. Of course. She spends more time with him than she does with me, and while I know it’s not the same, I can’t help but feel envious at how open they can be. Kat and Kaz can grab coffee or attend premieres together, and it doesn’t have to be a secret. Not like with me and her.
“Don’t do this.” She leans over and kisses me. “I was looking forward to Australia, too, but I can’t turn down this brand event. I was lucky my manager could get me in. In a few weeks, I’m all yours again.”
I release a slow breath and bounce my eyes between hers. She’s got these dark brown eyes, so dark they almost look black, and impossibly long, full eyelashes. I run my gaze over her face, taking in each feature. It’s no wonder she’s a model. It’s like she’s molded from clay.
“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” I kiss her again, then release her. “Have fun at your event. Laugh and smile for the cameras. Charm everyone. Then soon, you’re mine again.”
I watch as she climbs out of my bed and gets dressed, then shoves her long black hair into a baseball cap and slides on a giant pair of sunglasses. The extra precautions make me want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. I’m just bitter, is all. It’s important that she isn’t spotted. I get it.
Just before Kat leaves, she turns that cover model smile on me. “See you soon.”
I force a smile back. “I’ll miss you.”
“It’s not that long,” she says in a singsong voice. “It will be here before you know it.”
Then she lets herself out of my bedroom. I listen as she moves through my house. The door to my garage opens and shuts, and soon, I get a notification that my private gate has opened.
If I check the security stream on my phone, I’ll see the dark car pulling out of my driveway with Kat sequestered behind tinted windows in the back seat.
I’m alone again.
Aside from my band members and close friends, Kat’s bodyguard might be the only other person who knows the extent of our relationship. That was going to change if she came onthis trip with us, and I had Hammond draw up a non-disclosure agreement months ago just to make Kat feel safe. The crew, the Caveat boys, and everyone else coming on tour have already signed them, but maybe it wasn’t enough.
Maybe Kat is bailing because she’s still not ready for more people to know about us.
We’ve been off and on for three years, but as far as the world knows, we’re barely acquaintances.
That’s all I can think about as I get dressed in the silence and make a toffee latte. This espresso machine is one of the few luxuries I’ve splurged on outside of the necessities. Necessities being the house close to the rest of my band, my car, my drum set, and the occasional accessory for award shows and appearances. I have no issue dropping money on gifts, either, but most of my personal wardrobe is thrifted or discount brand, and I bargain shop literally everything else.
Kat makes fun of me, but I spent eighteen years counting pennies just to survive. After over a decade, it’s a mindset I still can’t kick. She grew up with an investment banker father and an actress mother. Frugality isn’t in her vocabulary.
The espresso machine, though? I have yet to regret it.
I do a quick check of my email, and aside from an updated schedule from Ham, there’s nothing of note. Except for the unopened message I have pinned to the top of my inbox, but I’ve been avoiding that one. My eyes stick on the bolded name of the sender, and the longer I stare, the more anxious I become, despite having a pretty good idea of what it says.
Something along the lines of,hello...we’ve tried to reach you via phone...please contact us at...
No, thanks. Not yet.
I sigh and shut my laptop with zero intentions of opening it again until tomorrow morning, then head to my studio space. Another big expense that I do not regret.
I take a seat behind my kit and pick up my sticks. I don’t bother with backing tracks. I just close my eyes, create a beat in my mind, and play until the only thing left is the music.
Sav’s house is a hive of activity when I let myself in the front door, and the tension in my body lessens the moment I’m hit with the noise.
