“Tell me.” His voice is gentle. “Tell me, Syl, and let’s see if we can’t get past these last five years.”
I rub my palms over my face, feeling weirdly embarrassed. “It’s just that when I felt that way—lost, I mean—after Atlanta, well, I’d—god, it sounds stupid. But I’d follow you.”
“Follow me?”
“Well, not in person. But your buildings. Your career. Everything,” I add, thinking of the bits and pieces of gossip about the women in his personal life that I’d seen over the last five years.
“Why?”
It’s a good question, and one I’m not entirely sure I have an answer to. As far as I’m concerned, a dozen shrinks would give a dozen explanations. “I don’t really know. Maybe guilt, like you said. But I think the real reason was that I needed a reminder that I’m strong. If I’d left you and survived, then how could I not survive whatever else life threw at me? And then when I realized that I needed you for the resort …”
I trail off with a shake of my head and suck in air. “It was like the gods were standing in a circle raising their middle fingers at me, you know? Because I’d survived so much, but the one thing I couldn’t survive was you.”
“And I went and made it worse for you. I’m sorry.”
“No. Maybe. A little.” I shrug. “The truth is, we made it worse for each other.” I reach over and take his hand. “And now we’re making it better.”
“We are. Yes.”
“Cass was with me at the premiere, by the way.” I speak lightly, hoping to wash off some of the gloom I’ve cast over our drive. “She says you’re hot.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You should be. You’re not exactly her type.”
“Dark hair? Blue eyes? An arrogant bastard?”
“A guy.”
“Oh?”
I roll my eyes at the question in his voice. “She’s just my best friend,” I say. “We’re not … involved.”
He sighs. “Well, I can still have my ménage fantasies.”
I laugh, but I can’t deny that his words have gotten all twisted up inside me.
He must recognize my shift in mood, because he turns in his seat to frown at me. “You know I was joking, right?”
“About a three-way with me and Cass? Yeah. Besides, she’d twist your balls off if you suggested something like that. She’s a little overprotective of me.”
“I know the feeling. What I don’t know is where your thoughts went all of a sudden.”
“Just you and fantasies about women. And, you know, you and women. Forget the fantasies.”
His finger taps a rhythm on the steering wheel. “I’m reasonably certain you couldn’t be more vague if you tried.”
“You’ve dated a lot of women.” There. I have spit it out. “Irena Kent, for example. You were even with her at the premiere. It’s all over the press that you’re dating her.” I’d confirmed that myself with a quick internet search after Jamie told me what she knew.
“Dating her? No. But I was sleeping with her. I’m not anymore.”
“I see.”
“Actually, I don’t think you do. I’ve fucked a lot of women, Sylvia. Before and after Atlanta.”
“And now you’re sleeping with me.” I hear both hurt and jealousy in my voice. And it pisses me off.
“No.” His voice is hard. Firm. “None of them are like you.”
“Why not?”
He takes my hand and lifts it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Because you matter to me. And I didn’t have anything to prove to them.”
The words warm me, even though I don’t entirely understand them.
“What do you have to prove to me?”
His grin is wide. “I guess you’ll know once I prove it.”
I shake my head, amused. “How much longer until we get to what you want to show me?”
“Not much farther.”
“And no clues?”
“Not even one,” he says.
“Fine. In that case I’ll continue to harass you about old girlfriends.”
“Oh, joy.”
I smirk. “Actually, it’s more about the movie, but talking about Irena Kent reminded me. My friend Jamie says she’s hoping to get a starring role, and that’s why she cozied up to you.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.” Jackson’s voice is tight. “But considering I don’t want to see the movie made at all, her plan is doomed to failure.”
