“It absolutely is. If you trust me, then working with Dub shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I don’t trust him. It’s about eliminating any threat to the most important thing in my life, which is this relationship.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know it. What I know is that I’m prepared to put you first, and you’re not prepared to do the same.”
Voicing this hidden frustration is freeing, but I hate the hurt that shadows her expression at my words.
“You think my career is more important to me than this relationship?” Her eyes add a demand to her question. “More important than you are?”
“What am I supposed to think? You want to continue working with a guy who tried to kiss you today because it might help your career.”
“A guy who thought I was single. I told you I’ll tell him I’m not.”
“True. This wouldn’t have happened if you would tell people we’re back together. Again, a move you’re making with your career in mind.”
“You said you agreed with that. Understood it, and you’re going back to it like it’s a strike against me now? If it came down to it, you know I’d choose you. But it doesn’t have to come down to it. That’s what I’m saying. Dub’s not a threat, and everyone will know we’re together after the tour. Are you good with that or not?”
I actually am. I don’t know why we’re fighting. Why I’m pressing this when I don’t have to. There’s this part of me still aching from the two months when she wouldn’t even take my calls. I made one wrong move and almost lost her. That part of me has been left uncertain, afraid I’ll make another wrong move. Or that she will. That part of me is afraid our love is as fragile as it is strong. And that part of me is about to fuck things up all over again. It makes me say and do dumb shit that will only keep pushing her away.
“I trust you,” I answer after a moment. “I guess I was just thrown by the kiss. I didn’t handle this well. I’m sorry.”
“Neither did I. If I—” Before she can finish, a rough cough rattles in her chest, making me feel like an inconsiderate asshole.
“Hey, up off that cold floor.” I sit on the edge of the tub again, gesturing for her to come to me. She climbs into my lap, looping her arms behind my neck. We’ve gone from snarling to snuggling in under sixty seconds flat.
“You may not believe it,” she says, caressing the back of my neck. “But you’re first. In all of this, you’re first, Rhys. I’ve dreamt of this chance, worked for this shot my whole life. I just want to do it right. It’s not worth losing you, though. Not worth losing this. You believe that?”
I look down at her, huddled close against my chest, shivering and heavy-lidded. She’s done. Exhausted from the rigors of today and the days before it. She has rehearsal in the morning and a show tomorrow night, and I have her up late arguing about shit that doesn’t even matter. Is this the lesson I should have learned the last time? Hold something you love too tightly and you’ll crush it? I can’t go through that again, and I won’t put Kai through it either.
I stand up, hoisting her light weight against my chest, walking back into the bedroom.
“I said do you believe that, Rhys?” Kai mutters into my shoulder.
“I do, baby.” I lay her down on the bed, crawling in behind her and pulling the down comforter over us both.
“You’re not just saying that?”
“Nope.” I turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness I hope will push Kai over the edge of exhaustion into the deep sleep her body craves. “I believe you.”
“Are we done talking?” She turns over to face me, her breathing slowing down to a sigh over my lips. “We can talk some more if we need to.”
“Let’s try not talking.” I pull her in, stroking her back until her body relaxes against me.
“I like it when we don’t talk.” Her voice gets softer the closer she gets to sleep. “I can be quiet with you.”
“Then do it.” I drop a kiss into her hair. “Be quiet with me, baby.”