Page 21 of When I Had You

“Keep going. This is entertaining.” I finally get a smile out of him as he sits in a chair facing me. It’s short-lived as he drinks his water, slow at first till he finishes the entire bottle. Keeping me on the edge of my seat, I sit waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. I’m not sure if he’s trying to get me riled up with the great buildup during the silence, but it’s impressive how he doesn’t feel the need to fill the void. Seems to be a party trick he’s mastered.

I’m too weak to stay silent for too long, so I ask, “Is the plan to stare at me all night?”

“It’s not the worst plan I’ve been involved in.” He grins. “You’re not here for the race, so why are you in Miami?”

The accusation stings, and my head jerks to the side, averting my gaze. He sees me too clearly. I shift in my seat, thinking I’m playing it cool, when I know every move I make is a sign of discomfort. Forcing my eyes to return to his, I reply, “I came to support my family.” Silence. I bite the inside of my cheek and chatter on, “I was working in Canada, so I haven’t been able to travel across the world for the other races.”

“Makes sense.”

Nothing about his response sounds like the matter is settled. Is he politely letting me off the hook? I’ll accept the reprieve he’s giving, releasing a breath. A coffee table, pestering silence, and a million secrets lie between us. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess tonight.”

“You can always call me.” He’s so sincere that my heart skips a beat. Sitting forward, he sighs, then scrubs his hands over his face before resting his forearms on his legs. “I don’t know what to think about you. You don’t hate me, but you also don’t like me. We’re not friends, so what does that make us? Enemies?”

“You’re just too tired to fight with me.”

He chuckles before sitting back and sliding down a bit in the leather chair. His eyes still never leave mine. “So we stick with enemies or somewhere in-between?”

“The unknown might be easier.”

“Nothing with you is easy, it seems.” He cocks an eyebrow as if he’s waiting for the perfect comeback, but I’m out of snark at this hour.

“Corbin cheated on me with the wardrobe assistant on the film we’ve been shooting in Vancouver.” My throat feels dry, so I take another sip. “I guess they have been sleeping together the entire time because he wasn’t sleeping with me.”

His deep sigh says it all. I’m just as exasperated by this cliché of a tale. “Sorry to hear that.”

“He would say all the right things if I broached the topic, constantly reassuring me, but something was off. I felt it in my gut.” I glance over his shoulder as if I’ll find the strength in the corner of the room. I don’t, so I look into his eyes instead, which are much more comforting. “When I told him I have no desire to live life without sex with my partner, he accused me of cheating on him or wanting to. The thing is, sex wasn’t all I was missing from our relationship.”

“Love?”

Hearing that word both rattles me and calms my rapidly beating heart. It’s out there . . . “I don’t know that I ever loved him.” Shame still coats a part of my psyche, trying to convince me to be the bad guy and take the fall for the failure of the relationship. In the past, I might have . . . I did. I don’t have the energy to fight for something that never was.

“We were a match made in Hollywood. We auditioned together for a movie and were cast as a couple. I guess I was naive enough to believe it was real in the beginning, but I think we’ve been method acting ever since.”

I take a breath, and my heart is already lighter after exposing the truth, even if it is in the middle of the night. “I remember looking at him when he told me my career would be over if I broke us up. You know what?”

With Cash’s gaze traveling from my eyes to my mouth, he asks, “What?”

“I didn’t care.” I shake my head as my resolve from that day returns. “I couldn’t force myself to care about a career that would tie me to Corbin Darian forever.” I release a breath like I’ve released my guilt for not trying harder to make that relationship work. It feels good to finally get this off my chest. I’ve been living in a state of what-if for days, and I’m so much closer to the answers. But Cash’s continued silence after my final confession makes me anxious, like I’m waiting for a judgment to be laid upon me.

Somehow, from the paddock to now, I care what he thinks of me. I care what he thinks, period. I don’t struggle to hold his gaze as my sudden connection with him runs deeper than the green of his eyes.

He finally shifts, licking the inside corner of his lips. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

Shock . . . offense . . . annoyance forces me to my feet. “That’s it? That’s all you got from everything I said?” I walk toward the balcony, needing fresh air. “I haven’t told a soul any of this, not even my best friend, and that is your burning question? The only thing you care about is my sex life?”

My wrist is caught when I pass, and he pulls me back just enough for our gazes to lock. “Don’t get all haughty on me, babe. I’ve already proven myself as trustworthy tonight. Is that not enough?”

“You don’t owe me your trust. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Except a phone, right?” he replies so quickly, though his expression remains neutral under the strain of the circumstances.

Both of us are stubborn enough not to look away from the other but smart enough to let down our guards when it’s a lost cause. I angle toward him, not comprehending this deep-seated need I have for him to give me understanding in return. To open up to me and share a secret? His own sad story? To say something that makes me feel less vulnerable right now? But he doesn’t, so I say, “I exposed myself and—”

“Your secrets are safe with me. I won’t share them, and I won’t use them against you. But I also need you to do me a favor.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stand in disbelief. “You completely disregard everything I told you to focus on your own interests, and now you have the nerve to ask me for a favor?”

“Stop overthinking everything you say and do. You’ll never be happy if you’re always living for someone else’s approval or worried about what they’ll think of you,” he says so easily sitting atop a pedestal looking down on me like I’m nothing more than a fan in the audience.

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