“You’re not my babysitter, Marin.” He went to pull away.
“No. I care way too much for that role, thanks.” She didn’t let him pull away, sliding her hands up to cup his face. “I know why you don’t drink much in public and you never did drink much around me, but I had no idea just how much time you lost when you were wasted. Do you remember anything from that day?”
“I . . .” He frowned, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
Marin licked her lips, the words she’d rehearsed a thousand times just . . . dying. There had never been a more important time for her to actually say something and she just couldn’t.
So she reached down and caught his hand.
His lids flickered at first. He was standing rigid, solid as a piece of stone but he let her take his hand, guide it to her belly. “I didn’t know you were that drunk and you seemed to be sobering up. Then you went and touched me and . . . shit. I didn’t think. I’d been fighting this thing I had for you for a while and . . . hell. You put your hands on me. I put mine on you and it just happened.”
He jerked back.
Marin felt it to the pit of her soul and the way he looked at her was something she’d carry for a long, long time.
As he spun away, she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Those dreams—I haven’t been going crazy.”
She wanted to ask what he meant, but she didn’t dare.
He turned on his heel and came stalking back, catching her by her arms. “Are you . . . Marin, is that baby mine?”
“Yes.”
He let go and staggered away, rubbing at his face as he sank down on the couch. “I . . .” He stopped and just shook his head. For the longest time, he didn’t speak. When he finally did, he asked, “Why didn’t you already tell me?”
“I’ve tried.”
Blue-green lasered into her. She felt gouged from the impact of that glare.
She shoved off the counter. “I’ve tried. You’ve been avoiding being alone with me for weeks. I wasn’t about to just start discussing it on set.” Slashing a hand through the air, she demanded, “Should I have just dropped the bomb while we were all gathered around having coffee during one of the breaks?” He started to speak, but she cut him off. “I mean, I can see that conversation . . .”
Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the counter and mimed holding a cup of coffee. “So . . . Sebastien. Do you know that a couple of months ago I came by to talk shop? Never had the chance, because you were wasted. And man, you really do lose time.”
Marin could feel the threads of her control slipping from her and she wanted to just get away so she could calm down, but there was no calming down until this was done. “I was going to ask you to come up to my hotel room when you took me back to the hotel a few weeks ago, but you went and made plans with Miss Megatits.” He went to open his mouth and she took a step closer. “Then the next time I tried to talk to you, you suddenly had a super important phone call from Trey—”
“Trey did call!” He shoved upright, scowling at her.
“And that meant you had to run away like a hornet had gotten inside your shorts?” Marin sucked in a breath. Her hold on her temper was gone and it was all out now—her accent was there and pure Tennessee was showing in her voice.
“It was a family thing!”
“I already know Ressa’s pregnant! She texted me right after he called you!” she shouted. “Guess what! They consider me family, too!” Tears burned her eyes and her voice cracked which just made her feel stupid. “Damn it, you’re making me sound like a harpy.”
Sniffling, she turned away and swiped at the tears that had slid free. She’d known she was going to cry. She’d known it and despite that, she was still pissed off by the waterworks. She grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped at her eyes, but when she tried to grab more to blow her nose, the box was empty. “Damn it.”
“Here.”
Something soft was pushed into her hand and she blinked away the blur enough to see that it was a handkerchief. “Wardrobe will kill you for letting me use this,” she said, blowing her nose.
“Makeup is going to kill us both—you for crying and me for making you cry.” He brought his arms up, caging her in when she would have moved away.
Feeling defeated, she just stood there.
“Okay. We should . . .” He paused, then tried again. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. Every time you come within ten feet of me, my dick gets hard. I’ve been dealing with that kind of thing with you ever since I was a teenager, but I can usually control it better than this. Lately, I have to think about boring or disgusting things when we’re working or I . . .” He turned his face into her hair, the words trailing off.