Page 49 of Love Me Knot

Chelsea disagrees but doesn’t argue or run away. That has to be a good sign, so I begin running through the opening lines for the first persona in the stack. This was the one that set her off earlier.

“Let’s skip this one,” she insists.

“Why?”

“Because once I assume one of these personalities, there’s no changing. Me flirting with this guy won’t do anything but turn him off, and then where the hell will we be?”

“I know why you think so, but you’re wrong. There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t turn his head to watch you walk by. And with an ego like Harding’s, he would not only want women to fawn over him, he’d expect it. Now stop stalling. We’ve got work to do.”

Chelsea picks up the folder and pulls out the first script, reading through the lines. Some out loud, some in her head. She ad-libs a bit, and I do my best to keep up, scribbling down notes for Birdie. By the end, I’m amazed at Chelsea’s ability to build a character and assume that role.

Chelsea views her acting skills as a survival technique, but I recognize the raw talent. Not only does her voice’s tone change, but her posture, body language, and even her accent to a degree.

We wrap up with the character she’s the least comfortable with, the lonely wife starved for affection. This one takes the longest. “Ugh. I hate this bitch, and she only exists on paper.”

I put my notes down and relax my shoulders to avoid appearing critical. “This one is a real sticking point for you. In all your time with Newel, did you never crave a deeper connection, a genuine loving touch from someone who couldn’t live without you?”

“No,” she answers, her tone flat and matter-of-fact.

“No? Really?”

Chelsea rolls her eyes. “Really, no. Is that so hard to believe?”

I cross my arms and answer, “Kind of.”

I do my best to ignore Chelsea’s chin wobble. Otherwise, I’ll fold and stop her from responding.

After a long breath, she finally says, “I didn’t wish for more because I believed I wouldn’t get it. I was conditioned to think I didn’t deserve it.”

Again, I’m fighting violent urges to find and hurt people from Chelsea’s past, but that won’t help her. I focus all my energy on the Here and Now. “What do you wish for today, right this moment?”

Chelsa looks straight into my eyes for the first time without being made to. “I want to be enough.”

Taking a risk and her hand, I open my mouth to reply, but Chelsea stops me. “I want to be enough for me.” Then, before I’m allowed to respond, her eyes become inquisitive, and she tilts her head to study me. “What is it you want?”

You. I want you.

Since I can’t give that response, I say, “To be wanted by someone instead of just needed. I want love, and I want to find it with a woman who’s real and not obsessed with society’s bullshit idea of perfection. I want someone to laugh with. I want a woman to critique bad movies with and, at the end, nibble popcorn crumbs off one another. And after all that, I want fire. Give me a woman who makes me want to work for it. I want sweat dripping down my quivering muscles. I want her to leave me crawling.”

“That’s…ah,” Chelsea squeaks, clearly not expecting my answer. “That’s awfully specific.”

“It’s a good thing I know where to find it,” I rasp, my desire unmistakable.

Chelsea’s mouth goes slack. “Jackson…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how to get through to you, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m a social mutant, a defunct pariah. I don’t get to keep people. Ever. Not even…” Chelsea exhales heavily and looks away. “Not even Bastien.”

For a brief moment, I’m in danger of my head exploding. There’s no way she’s saying… Though my heart is pounding, I keep my mouth shut, hoping Chelsea’s not about to tell me she’s in love with my best friend.

She winces at an unpleasant memory and continues without encouragement. “Bash hasn’t had much to say since the beer conversation. Like everyone else, he sees how damaged I am and how much baggage I carry and doesn’t want to deal with the drama. It’s fine. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy the experience.”

Fear becomes rage, and I breathe slowly and stand before I say something we both might regret. Chelsea doesn’t try to stop me or even ask where I’m going when I turn and unlock the door to leave. The woman is indeed used to being abandoned. That and only that gives me pause. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” I growl through clenched teeth. I need to have a word with Bastien.

I don’t know where to find him in this big, damned building, so I check the parking lot to see if his truck is even still here. It is, so I call him. “Where the hell are you?” I demand as soon as the call connects.

Curious and apprehensive, he answers, “In the cafeteria, having lunch.”

I don’t remember how to get there from here. “Where the fuck is that? Forget it. Don’t you have somewhere in this building where I can legally kick your ass?”

The dining hall sounds quieten. I assume because Bastien covered his mouth and the phone. “Whoa! Hold up. What the hell did I do?”

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