Page 81 of Perfect Composition
She swallows hard. “He never told me she loved flowers.”
“Has he ever brought you any?” I ask gently.
She shakes her head.
“When we leave this place, I’ll bring them to you. I promise.” Then I lay the picture to the side before I pull her back into my arms.
I begin wiping away Paige’s tears that are flowing from her eyes unchecked. “It’s not a surprise you’d relate to a beautiful painting because the artist surrounded her with flowers, Paige.”
“There’s so much more to the story than that.” She gently steps away.
“There always is. Anything related to love is always complicated—even composing songs about it.” I open his mouth to say more but close it quickly.
My eyes drift over the frames before they latch back onto hers. I was ready to confront Paige about the emotions between us as I walked into her room, but nothing prepared me to confront the emotions of the past that still lie between us. “All this just reminded me, I still owe you flowers.” Then I turn on my heel and stride out of the room.
I’ve barely crossed the threshold when I hear her plaintive “What on earth is happening?”
But I’m very much afraid I know already. As a boy, I was determined to protect the woman I loved twenty years ago, and the man I am is a million times more determined to right wrongs and protect those I care for.
PAIGE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I feel like singing Taylor Swift’s Christmas song on repeat.
—@PRyanPOfficial
@PRyanPOfficial, get over it. She didn’t deserve you. Plus, you’re bringing down the party. I’m halfway across the room and I can feel your vibe.
—Viego Martinez, Celebrity Blogger
“Could you possibly have more things delivered?” Beckett jokes as he hands me another box from the online retailer I’m certain I’m single-handedly supporting.
Ignoring him, I place it with the others needing to be wrapped. It’s Christmas Eve. There’s been little change in my father’s condition in the last week since the surgery. I’m riding a teeter-totter of emotions as I visit. He tries to speak, gets frustrated, and turns away.
It’s a damn metaphor for my life.
Today, I begged my brothers to take an extra shift at the hospital since I have a million gifts to wrap and Christmas Eve snacks for close to twenty to prepare. There are so many bodyguards around, I feel uncomfortable even going on the lanai anymore. But fortunately, the threat of exposure has been nipped in the bud, Beckett assured me the day after he visited me in the hospital. His presence in my home has been noticed by few, if any. And fortunately for all of us, his security team blends well.
I ask Beckett, “Is this what your life is like all the time?”
After I ask him, he shrugs. “You get used to it. I’ll take the guards over the paparazzi.”
“Why’s that?” I pull down a bowl, add a strainer, and dump the Vienna sausage in to drain.
“Because if they can’t find the truth, sometimes they make shit up.” His blue eyes hold mine when he repeats very succinctly, “Like Storia, Lucia—who was the name of the media personality—Soy, my very happily married drummer Carly, the lead singer for CyberG, and Erzulie, who is just a few years older than Austyn and is like a little sister to me.”
I flush to the roots of my hair. “It doesn’t matter to me,” I lie.
Beckett makes his way around the counter. “Really? I guess I’ll be the bigger of the two of us to admit the no-name three have kept me up the last few nights.”
I snicker as I roll out strips of crescent dough.
He makes a tsking sound. “You don’t believe me?”
“Because I’m simply irresistible.” I strike a pose before I reach for the deli cheese I lay down in between the dough and the sausage.
Beckett whirls me around. His fingers brush my hair away from the base of my neck. The feel of them against my skin sends shivers racing up my spine. “What…what are you doing?”
