Page 18 of When I Had You

Pushing off the sink, she appears ready to finally leave. Standing in front of me, she says, “He cheated on me.”

I nod, unsure what to say. The fact it happens to almost everybody at some point won’t make this situation or her feel better. But as I stare into her blue eyes, the words come easy. “He’s a fool.” Then I look down at my phone and text the driver:

We’re leaving through the exit door in the alley. Meet us there.

Taking her hand in mine, I say, “I don’t know what we’re about to face, but I’ll shield you the best I can. Stay close to my side. Don’t make eye contact with anybody or say a word, not even ‘no comment.’ Okay?”

“Okay.” Her fingers tighten around mine just as we’re about to leave. “Don’t let go of me.”

I turn back, stealing a second to take her in. She doesn’t sit in sadness this time, but her vulnerability still comes through her pleading eyes. I give her hand a squeeze and reply, “Never.”

I don’t open the door until I receive the driver’s text:

I’m here.

“Let’s go.”

Two girls barge past us as soon as we move into the hall. Holding her hand, I shift Marina under my arm and lead her to the exit door. Pushing through, we don’t get two feet outside before I hear both of our names being shouted. I look left to see photographers from the edge of the street running down the alley toward us.

We rush, but I don’t see the car. Shit. “Where’s the fucking car?” I look right and see the red taillights, quick to pivot with Marina at my side.

“I can’t run in these shoes.”

I’m so tempted to pick her up, but that will add blood in the water for the sharks to devour and splash across every site tomorrow. Though I might be kidding myself even now about the impact of us being seen together.

I don’t know where the guys flashing their lights bright in our eyes came from, but I hold my hand up and duck to the side. “Five feet straight ahead,” I say, wondering if she can even hear me over the shouting.

“New hot couple alert.”

“How long have you been a couple?”

She’s bumped, causing her to stumble. She’s safe in my arms, but I glare at the fucker who had the nerve to get in her way. “Get the fuck away from her.”

Questions still fly, hitting us from all sides.

“Are you dating or fucking Cash?”

“Where’s Corbin Darian, Marina?”

“Gonna blow the race again, Ryatt?”

We reach the car, and I shift Marina in front of me to keep her out of the line of paparazzi fire. She ducks into the back seat, and I’m right behind her. As soon as the door closes, I lock it. She does the same on the other side.

Turning back to face each other, our hands are still clasped between us. Neither makes a move. We may be tucked safely in the back, but my ears still ring from the thunder of shouting on the other side of the glass.

The driver gets in and starts driving.

The flashes haven’t stopped. We both look out the back windshield to see the aftermath of the chaos we escaped. I drop my head down into my hand and massage my brow. “We’re fucked.” How am I going to explain this tomorrow?

Marina sits in silence, her hand slowly pulled free from mine and left alone on her lap.

I turn to the window, the streetlights not as bright as where we came from, and try not to think about the shitstorm ahead. I can’t let my head get caught up in something I can’t control. They will write what they want, and I’ll have to defend myself. It’s nothing new, but something I had hoped to avoid this season.

A soft touch draws my eyes to my leg as Marina’s delicate fingers come to rest on my thigh. When I meet her gaze in the dark of the car, she whispers, “I don’t hate you, Cash.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I just strongly dislike you.” Her cheeks tug her lips into a smile she tries to restrain but can’t. It’s the sweetest of smiles she’s given me yet, my favorite one on her so far.

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