Page 49 of Mine
Loosening the top button of my shirt, I walked to the balcony, the cool ocean breeze hitting me like a reset button. I braced my hands on the railing and tried to focus on anything but the fact that Blue was ten feet away, naked in a clawfoot tub.
I didn’t know how the hell I was going to survive the night. The whole trip was more complicated than I thought it would be.
Nights were supposed to be my time. My hours. When the world quieted down and I could slip into that part of myself no one ever saw. The part that didn’t have to speak, or smile, or perform. The part that let the guilt in. The grief. The rage. All of it.
I needed the silence and the space to sit in it, let it bleed out of me inch by inch. And now I was supposed to lie next to her? Pretend to sleep while she breathed beside me? As though we were just two normal people doing something normal: sharing a bed on vacation.
She was already distracting me in ways I couldn’t afford. And not just because she was magnetic and chaotic in all the ways I wasn’t. But because she seemed to see right through me. She asked questions I didn’t want to answer. Looked at me like she wanted to solve all the puzzles inside my chest.
I couldn’t hide. Not in this tiny room.
Not with the sound of her laughter echoing from the bathroom. Not with the scent of her shampoo drifting through the air like temptation.
I clenched the railing and closed my eyes. It’s just one night. I could survive one night.
Right?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BLUE
It wasn’tuntil we were in the hotel room, just the two of us, that the nerves started to creep in again. My heart rate picked up exponentially. A long bath seemed like the only reasonable form of escape.
I stayed in there for hours, scrolling on my phone while soaking in that clawfoot tub. It was the only thing keeping me from having a full-blown identity crisis. But eventually, I had to get out.
A quiet knock tapped against the door just as I leaned over the sink, trying to reapply some mascara and talk myself down.
“You almost ready?” West’s voice came through the door.
“Coming,” I called back, adjusting my top and giving my reflection one last attempt at a confident smile. My outfit was pushing the limits: tight jeans with a few rips and a halter top that sat just above my navel. The boots were scuffed but high enough to make a statement. It was a country concert, and I wanted to look the part. I just hoped I didn’t look like I was trying too hard.
I cracked the door open and found West leaning against the frame, his head down, shoulders tense. When he looked up, oureyes met and held for a second too long, before he looked down my body and took in my outfit.
He inhaled sharply but didn’t say a word at first.
Then, finally, he stood to full height, eyes back on mine, voice low. “You look… amazing.”
My stomach did a little backflip. “Thank you,” I said, more quietly than I’d meant to. It was the first time he’d ever said something like that. Complimentary. Unfiltered.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” I asked, eyeing the same suit pants he’d worn on the plane. The jacket had been tossed on a chair, but the rest? Unchanged.
“This is what I wear,” he said flatly, the same tone he used earlier when he told me that work was what he did, as if that was his personality. “I just redid my tie.”
“Well, it’s a concert, not a board meeting,” I muttered, stepping out of the bathroom. He shifted back to make room, and as I passed him, I grabbed the end of his tie and tugged gently.
He followed without resistance, that same unreadable expression on his face as I turned to face him.
“No husband of mine is showing up to a concert looking like he’s about to give a TED Talk,” I teased, fingers moving to loosen his tie. I waited for him to stop me, to pull away and remind me of boundaries, but he didn’t. He just kept watching me. I tugged again, loosening the knot. “We’re not gonna look very married if you show up like that.”
He cracked a smile and undid the cuff buttons on his sleeves. “I can lose the tie.”
“What else do you have in that bag of yours?” I asked, nodding toward the sleek leather duffel on the dresser.
He shrugged. “An extra shirt. Clean boxers.”
“No T-shirt? No comfy shorts to sleep in?”
“Nope.” He smirked, licking his lips. “I usually don’t wear anything to bed, sweetheart. And we’re leaving early, so I figured I’d just throw the suit back on.”
