“Then start acting like you’re neither to either of us. That would be a good place to start.”
I stare at Vince with wide eyes and a blank expression, uncertain what to say.
I hate that he’s right.
“You don’t understand. McMann eats junior associates for lunch, and you just served me up on a platter by telling him I offered my opinions.”
“The Bristol Matthews I knew didn’t let anyone tell her what to do. I was hoping she was still around.”
“That’s not fair.” My words are all but a whisper as my ego takes a hit, and we stand there staring at each other. This job is my sole source of income. It barely covers my bills, a few extras for Jagger here and there, and the interest of my deferred student loan payments, but it gives me the experience I need and the free time for studying. Losing it is the last thing I need, and Vince being here, pulling his chest-thumping bullshit like he did in the conference room, makes that a possibility. I refuse to let him be the reason everything changes in my life. Again.
“Bristol?” he finally says.
“Hmm?”
“You need to push a floor, sweetheart, or we’re not going anywhere.”
“Oh. I didn’t—”
But I’m silenced as he leans past me and pushes the button for the tenth floor. It just so happens that to do so, his entire body presses against mine.
And this elevator, the one that’s used for cargo and is larger than normal, suddenly feels so damn tiny with Vince occupying what feels like every inch of space and breath of air in it.
When he pulls his arm back, he doesn’t move his body. All six foot plus of him remains firmly against mine. His cologne is subtle. His breath smells like mint. And when I dare to meet his eyes and the intensity in them, it’s my own breath that sucks in.
Seconds feel like minutes.
Minutes that need to end but that history has me holding on to.
“Do you remember how good we were?” he murmurs. His breath feathers against my lips as he runs the back of his hand down my cheek.
Chills chase over my skin as my head and my body battle for control of the narrative. One that knows this can’t happen. The other that craves for it to happen.
“Vince.” It’s barely a whisper as his hand slides down my neck to the curve of my shoulder so his thumb is resting on my jawline.
“I know. It’s crazy it’s still here after all this time.”
“We can’t—”
He runs his thumb over my lips to stop me from talking. His thumb . . . when all I want it to be is his lips.
He rests his forehead against mine, his mouth a whisper away, and we just stand like this for a beat.
My pulse thunders.
My chest constricts.
But my head knows so much better than to start this.
And when the elevator dings, I’m not sure if the sigh I emit is in relief or defeat.
CHAPTER NINE
Bristol
Focus is a struggle.
And it’s not because I’m past the point of exhaustion where coffee usually works.
It’s the elevator that I can’t get out of my head. Vince’s hand on my face. The way his words made me feel.
And the confusion both created.
How can I hate a man and be tempted by him? How can I have spent years telling myself that Vince Jennings doesn’t mean a thing to me, and then the first time I see him, feel my heart tripping over itself to ignore the scars he previously left there?
Vince’s words come back to me: The Bristol Matthews I knew didn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Where was she earlier?
The problem is, I thought I knew who the new Bristol Matthews was. The After After Vince one. Now I’m beginning to worry that I don’t even have a clue. That I’m nowhere near as strong as I thought I was.
Deep-seated disappointment in myself hits hard. But not as hard as the punch of Vince’s deep tenor reminding me just how good we used to be.
Neither thrill me.
And yet there I was acting like a giddy schoolgirl pining for her ex like she forgot all the bad that’s happened.
But I’m not in high school.
And there is so much more at stake than my reputation this time around.
But the question that remains is why? Why did I want him to kiss me? Why am I still thinking about it?
For nostalgia? For old times’ sake? For unadulterated pleasure? To prove I could kiss him and walk away and be in control of it rather than devastated by it?
But those are all games. Games I’m too old to play and don’t really want to play anyway.
“I know. It’s crazy it’s still here after all this time.”
Attraction. That’s all he was talking about. Our chemistry. The way our bodies react to one another’s without thought.
Isn’t that who Vince is though? He was always good with words. With making me feel wanted.
But that’s where he stopped at everything else. He loved me till he didn’t. He needed me until he didn’t. He wanted me until he didn’t.
“Right?”
I smile reflexively as I look up to find four pairs of eyes looking at me. Vince’s, the director of the documentary, Will, his assistant who is taking notes, and the person who will be interviewing him on camera, Jasmine.
“I’m sorry. I got caught up thinking about something else. What did I miss?” I ask.
“I was just saying how perfect it was that you work here since you knew Vincent way back when,” Jasmine says. “You might be able to add some additional insight when we head back to your hometown next week.”
“Next week? What?”
“It’s on the schedule in front of you,” Vince says with a motion to the paper on the table. His smile is unapologetic. “Just for a few days.”
I nod, my smile strained.
I don’t like the unexpected. I like plans and schedules and having time to digest what’s expected of me. While someone like Vince thrives on spontaneity, it gives me metaphorical hives.
To say I feel like I’m being thrown into the fire is an understatement. Now I’m being forced to travel with the man I’m currently tying myself up in knots over. In addition, now I need to ask my mom for more help with Jagger when she already does a ton.
He’s my child. He’s my responsibility. I’m the one who should be and wants to be watching him, not my mom.
“Give her a sec,” Vince says. “She’s a planner so this is going to throw her for a loop.”
Everyone at the table chuckles while Vince winces when my shoe connects with his shin.
“Next week. Noted,” I say and offer a sugary-sweet smile his way. No doubt that’s going to leave a mark. “And no worries. I’ll have plenty of anecdotes I can throw your way to enhance Vince’s documentary.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he says, mischief in his eyes.
“Try me.”
The whole table erupts in more laughter, but Vince’s gaze remains on mine as his lopsided grin grows.
My threat rings hollow to my own ears though, because I know that revealing too much about Vince’s past will only put me in the spotlight. And the last thing I want anyone to do is to look closer at me.
“So we’ll get started then,” Will says. “The point of this pre-interview is so we can weed out the normal, everyday things and maybe find a nugget or two to focus on. Something that will hook the public into wanting to know more about.”
“There’s not much out there that people don’t already know,” Vince says.
“There always is.” Will’s smile says he’s determined to find something. “Whatever we decide to talk about during the actual filming will be given to you ahead of time so you’re not taken by surprise.”
Vince shifts uncomfortably, his eyes focused on the paper in his hands for a beat before he slips the public mask on and grins. “Hit me.”
But it was there. That small slip. Just like he had last night when talking about Bent. Clearly whatever is going on, he’s determined to keep it close to the vest.
“Perfect,” Jasmine says. “Let’s cover some basics. Mom. Dad. Brothers. Sisters. Normal childhood. Troubled childhood. That kind of thing.”
“Normal childhood.” Vince’s tone is flat and the glance my way, the one with piercing eyes, reaffirms his lie.
“Okay.” She makes a note. “What about your mom and dad?”