“You have to believe me when I tell you this was not supposed to happen. I expected an article here or there about me accompanying an old friend to a wedding in paradise. Anywhere I go, pictures are always taken. I never expected this, Say. How was I to know that turning off the phone and ignoring Jenna and her huge ego was going to cause her to lash out and try to hurt you? There’s no way I could have known.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. Know what he’s saying is true . . . and yet, anger reigns. “She threw me, my reputation, my business, and my name to the sharks. When I talked to DeeDee, I thought the reporters out front of Sweet Cheeks were having a slow news day and wanted some old dirt on you—innocent stuff about how you were as a kid or something. Cute stories. I thought the texts on my phone asking for an interview were to highlight the bakery and in turn get a glimpse of the woman in your life. I should have known how bad it was when I got Ryder’s text saying he wanted to kill you. That should have told me everything I needed to know and yet I’m so damn stupid for looking at it through Hayes-jaded eyes.”
“Don’t do that, Saylor.”
He takes a step forward and I take one back. I don’t want to be touched right now. I don’t want to be coddled. I just want to be left alone to try and figure out how I feel. I know he can sense me shutting him out but it’s not intentional. It’s just what I need to do to process everything when in reality I have absolutely no clue how bad the story is beyond these tropical walls.
“She sounds like a real class act.” My voice is loaded with spite. Hurt. Accusation when it’s not his to wear.
“Say, she prob—”
“Don’t defend her.” My voice is quiet steel issuing a warning.
“She’s the last person I’d defend after this.” His voice is grave. Eyes serious.
“How do you live in that world, Hayes?” My eyes fill with tears. My chest constricts as the realization hits me that this is the world I’d be stepping into if Hayes and I were to work out.
“It comes with the territory . . . but it’s never mattered before like it does right now.”
The sob catches in my throat as I turn back to my suitcase. To my everyday life that seems so very far away right now. How will my normal be affected by this? By the hints DeeDee dropped, I fear it’s not going to be good.
Do I want to live in that life where pictures can be misconstrued and reputations are ruined over nothing but a rumor? A lie? A misconception?
“Will you stop packing for a second and look at me?”
“No. I need to get home.” That’s easier to focus on than the look of defeat in his eyes, and the riot of fear ricocheting through me. This morning I woke up sure about our future, and now I’m unsure if I can live in his world.
“Saylor.” His hands are on my shoulders. I try to shrug out of them and he holds them still. “Don’t pull away from me. We’ve been through too much for you to pull away from me.”
He knows me well enough to assume what I’m thinking. The tinge of fear in his voice—the same one that is echoing in my heart—tells me this. So while he might think I’m strong, I don’t think I’m strong enough for this.
“I’m not pulling away. I just need . . .” I hang my head and fight like hell to keep the frustrated tears from falling. “I just need to get home. I need time to think with a clear head, Hayes. Need to sort out the mess I fear my life now is.”
“Turn around.” And it’s not like I have any choice when he turns my shoulders himself. His fingers are under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I know you’re upset. Angry. You have every right to be. I am too. I’ll do whatever I can to fix this. Whatever it takes, but I know as well as anyone that I can’t control what people believe or don’t believe. And so it only matters what we know. What we believe.”
I nod subtly to let him know I hear him. The words he’s spoken and the unspoken ones in his eyes that tell me he thinks I’ve been scared away. And a part of me has. I just don’t know by how much.
“The oven died at the bakery. I need to get there to figure out what model will fit and its pricing and payment plans and . . . I just need to get back there.” I let the lie fade off because I know what those answers are. But what I need is space to think. To breathe.
“I’m going home with you. I’ll do an interview and explain our history. How we reconnected. Make it right again. Get the bastards to retract the stories.” I know he means what he’s saying, but I also know he can’t undo what has been done because he’ll be on the defensive. And the defensive is never a good place to be. I traveled all this way here to avoid just that.
“It’s not going to matter. You know that. It’s already in print therefore it’s already believed.”