Love Unrehearsed
Page 18
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I kissed him and returned his sentiment, but deep inside I privately ached. All day I had tried to get over my sullen mood, and even though I loved him with every fiber of my soul, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed by him. Okay—honestly, I was feeling very disappointed by him.
“Hey.” He gently grasped my arm when I turned to walk away. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t want to get into a discussion about my dejected feelings before his premiere. He didn’t need to deal with that right now. Mom always used to say to “sleep on things for a night” before acting rash. Maybe with time I’d see things in a different light. I had spent most of last night praying for an epiphany.
“Nothing is wrong.” I tried to dismiss his keen observation by putting on a forced grin to shake off his speculation.
“Bullshit,” he returned with a sharp laugh as he followed me into the bathroom. “You don’t think I can tell when you’re upset, Tar?
Give me some credit.”
Ryan trapped me at the bathroom sink; his chest pressed into my back. I could feel the warmth of his breath heating my ear. “I know you better than you think I do.” I swallowed hard, loving that he cared to know my feelings but hesitant to share them before I had sorted those feelings out.
“You’ve been this way since dinner last night, and every time I’ve asked, you’ve avoided telling me. So please don’t tell me you’re fine anymore. What’s going on?” He kissed my bare shoulder tenderly.
I opted for saving him from my bruised emotions. “It’s not important. We can talk later. You have enough to deal with right now.”
His arms crossed over my abdomen, pulling me closer. “No. I’m not waiting that long. We made a promise to each other, remember? More open and honest? I want to know what’s bothering you, and I want to know what it is right now.”
I looked at him through our reflection in the large mirror, stalling.
“Right now,” he ordered, his voice taking on a new, direct tone.
My will cracked. “I thought you were going to say something on the show last night, that’s all.” I casually added a shrug, trying to lessen the impact.
“About what?”
My apprehension to go down this road made me fidget. “About being engaged. I just thought . . . since you didn’t say anything on Jimmy Collins that you might say something on Night Life, but you didn’t. I’m trying not to be one of those needy girls, Ryan, but I just don’t understand why you’ve avoided confirming it when they asked.” I hoped his reasons weren’t any of the ones on my speculated list.
It took all of ten seconds for him to break eye contact and make a few of his standard throaty noises before his hands freed me.
Next came his “stare at the floor and rub the forehead” maneuver.
I turned my eyes back to the sink counter.
This repeat pattern of having to walk on damn eggshells around men was getting so freaking old. “See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. I know you have your reasons, Ryan. It’s just . . . I thought I was your fiancée, but I can’t help but feel as though I’m some dirty little secret.” Ryan closed the lid on the toilet and sat down. “You’re not a dirty secret, Taryn. Nor have you ever been.”
“Are you ashamed of me?”
He paled as if I’d just smacked him. “Of course not! Why would you even say that?”
“You denied being engaged to me on television and during every interview. I don’t understand why, beyond Marla telling you not to, so what else am I to think? I’m sorry, but I can’t help feeling the way I do.”
“What the hell do you want me to do?” he grumbled, letting his hands slap down on his thighs.
I held his gaze, worried that he might think I was even remotely interested in having this turn into an argument. “I love you—with all of my heart. I want to be your wife, your partner. I want to be by your side through all of your adventures. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or what role I’m supposed to play. Help me to understand, Ryan. Help me to be a part of all of this.”
Ryan exhaled with new frustration. “Tar, you see how things are—the paparazzi, the fucking tabloids. They take everything from me. Everything I hold sacred. Why can’t our private life stay private, you know? If I give them that, then what do I have left? Nothing.”
Massive confusion tore through my mind, followed closely by my anger. “Maybe I should just stay here then. That way I can stay a private matter,” I muttered to the tiled floor.
“Hey.” He gently grasped my arm when I turned to walk away. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t want to get into a discussion about my dejected feelings before his premiere. He didn’t need to deal with that right now. Mom always used to say to “sleep on things for a night” before acting rash. Maybe with time I’d see things in a different light. I had spent most of last night praying for an epiphany.
“Nothing is wrong.” I tried to dismiss his keen observation by putting on a forced grin to shake off his speculation.
“Bullshit,” he returned with a sharp laugh as he followed me into the bathroom. “You don’t think I can tell when you’re upset, Tar?
Give me some credit.”
Ryan trapped me at the bathroom sink; his chest pressed into my back. I could feel the warmth of his breath heating my ear. “I know you better than you think I do.” I swallowed hard, loving that he cared to know my feelings but hesitant to share them before I had sorted those feelings out.
“You’ve been this way since dinner last night, and every time I’ve asked, you’ve avoided telling me. So please don’t tell me you’re fine anymore. What’s going on?” He kissed my bare shoulder tenderly.
I opted for saving him from my bruised emotions. “It’s not important. We can talk later. You have enough to deal with right now.”
His arms crossed over my abdomen, pulling me closer. “No. I’m not waiting that long. We made a promise to each other, remember? More open and honest? I want to know what’s bothering you, and I want to know what it is right now.”
I looked at him through our reflection in the large mirror, stalling.
“Right now,” he ordered, his voice taking on a new, direct tone.
My will cracked. “I thought you were going to say something on the show last night, that’s all.” I casually added a shrug, trying to lessen the impact.
“About what?”
My apprehension to go down this road made me fidget. “About being engaged. I just thought . . . since you didn’t say anything on Jimmy Collins that you might say something on Night Life, but you didn’t. I’m trying not to be one of those needy girls, Ryan, but I just don’t understand why you’ve avoided confirming it when they asked.” I hoped his reasons weren’t any of the ones on my speculated list.
It took all of ten seconds for him to break eye contact and make a few of his standard throaty noises before his hands freed me.
Next came his “stare at the floor and rub the forehead” maneuver.
I turned my eyes back to the sink counter.
This repeat pattern of having to walk on damn eggshells around men was getting so freaking old. “See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. I know you have your reasons, Ryan. It’s just . . . I thought I was your fiancée, but I can’t help but feel as though I’m some dirty little secret.” Ryan closed the lid on the toilet and sat down. “You’re not a dirty secret, Taryn. Nor have you ever been.”
“Are you ashamed of me?”
He paled as if I’d just smacked him. “Of course not! Why would you even say that?”
“You denied being engaged to me on television and during every interview. I don’t understand why, beyond Marla telling you not to, so what else am I to think? I’m sorry, but I can’t help feeling the way I do.”
“What the hell do you want me to do?” he grumbled, letting his hands slap down on his thighs.
I held his gaze, worried that he might think I was even remotely interested in having this turn into an argument. “I love you—with all of my heart. I want to be your wife, your partner. I want to be by your side through all of your adventures. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or what role I’m supposed to play. Help me to understand, Ryan. Help me to be a part of all of this.”
Ryan exhaled with new frustration. “Tar, you see how things are—the paparazzi, the fucking tabloids. They take everything from me. Everything I hold sacred. Why can’t our private life stay private, you know? If I give them that, then what do I have left? Nothing.”
Massive confusion tore through my mind, followed closely by my anger. “Maybe I should just stay here then. That way I can stay a private matter,” I muttered to the tiled floor.
