Page 74 of The Bodyguard Affair
“Maybe this is her way of trying to make up for what she did. Maybe she really does know how much she failed you and Em.”
“Maybe,” he says quietly. “I just wish I could be more like Em. She forgave Mom instantly. Well, actually, I’m not sure Em was ever angry at her.”
“No?”
“She didn’t even hesitate when it came to taking care of her. If she was bitter or had any kind of resentment over it, she never told me. She’s never said it outright, but I’m sure her having to take care of our mom took a huge toll on her personal life. She didn’t have a lot of friends eventually, aside from ones that stuck around town. So when she met Travis, they got married immediately and had four kids. She leaned into the mom lifestyle and put everything into them to give them the stability we didn’t have. I chose a completely opposite life. I mean, I guess I justcontinued living the way I’d always lived. With no roots. Nothing to ever hold me back.”
“It makes sense. Why would you long for stability when you’ve never had it?”
He looks at me, really looks at me, and there’s something vulnerable in his gaze. “That means a lot. In all seriousness, though, I’m sorry for all of this.”
I furrow my brow. “Sorry for what?”
He’s quiet for a moment, though I sense his thoughts are still racing. “I don’t know. Bringing you into all this stuff with my mom. I know it’s a lot. It’s not fair that I didn’t tell you when we originally agreed on all of this.”
I shake my head, my lids growing heavy. “It’s not. I mean…it is. But it doesn’t scare me or make me think any less of you. Thank you for telling me. And for trusting me with this.”
Everything grows fuzzy around us as he wraps his arm around my shoulders, curling me into him. As the blues, greens, and brown hues of the coming night and the trees blur around us, I let myself relax into his embrace.
Being with him here, in the one place he felt safe as a child, feels heaps more intimate than when we were at the lake. And god, it’s been nice, having him to spend time with, having someone to talk to, someone to share my whole self with. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want him to leave. The pit in my stomach expands at the mere thought.
Shit.
I’m already dreading it and he’s not even gone yet. So I let my lids flutter to a close, committing it all to memory. The damp, earthy smell of the forest. The trickle of the ravine. The way my heart cartwheels as my body molds to his. The way he glancesdown at me, his pensive gaze sweeping over my face. And I hold on tight a little longer.
• • •
“Can you believe the latest story?” Gretchen tosses her phone at me. The headline reads,INSIDE THE NICHOLS’ TROUBLED MARRIAGE. Below is a rather unflattering photo of her and Eric from two years ago at a state dinner in Washington. Gretchen is squinting from the sun, but from that angle, it looks like she’s death-glaring at Eric. “Apparently, an insider claims everyone on staff knows about Eric’s alleged affairs. Plural.”
“They’re saying there’s more mistresses in the mix?” When the rumors first began, I assumed they’d only last a month, tops. But they’ve been going strong all summer.
She rolls her eyes. “Well, this is Spotlight. They also claim Princess Diana was abducted by aliens. It’s laughable, honestly. Anyone who knows Eric would know that the man barely has time to poop unless it’s scheduled into his calendar. Let alone service multiple women.”
I snort. “Truth.”
“You’re distracted again today,” Gretchen points out, her freshly waxed brows raised knowingly. “The email you just sent used ‘there’ instead of ‘they’re’ and you spelled ‘meeting’ like ‘meating.’ Sounds a hell of a lot more interesting, but frankly illegal.”
I rub my temples, embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m tired today.”
“Is the CPO keeping you up until the late hours?” she asks with no shortage of gleeful curiosity.
I nearly choke on my coffee. “No. We’re slowing things down a little, actually,” I inform, trying to keep my tone casual. Seeingas we’re “breaking up” in a few weeks, I’ve been looking for small ways to plant some seeds of doubt about the relationship so the news doesn’t come out of nowhere. I’ve also been avoiding him entirely. I’ve come up with a valid excuse, that I’m busy with writing and gala prep.
Gretchen gasps and I immediately recoil, assuming I’ve made another glaring typo in the email. “What? Why?”
I shrug. “He’s leaving in a few weeks. Location TBD.”
“He’s still wanting to leave, huh? And you’re not going to try long-distance? I feel like it’s easier than ever nowadays, with video calls.”
“I don’t know if there’s even a point, because he doesn’t ever plan on coming back,” I note, as if that’s the final nail in the coffin.
“Fair point,” she concedes, but then her eyes narrow, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. “But I don’t know if you should throw in the towel just yet. What if he changes his mind? Or—hear me out—he leaves after a tearful goodbye, only to realize wherever he is isn’t for him. And then, after a dramatic forty-eight-hour montage, he turns up at your doorstep, possibly holding a boom box over his head.”
I snort. “Gretchen, you’ve been watching too many romance movies.”
She waves a dismissive hand in my general direction. “Maybe. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Anyway, it’s a possibility, is all I’m saying.”
“Not a likely one.” After all my conversations with Nolan, he has zero intent on staying. Regardless of what happens, he’s leaving, and I’ll still be here, as I’ve always been. It would be smart of me to detach now to avoid the inevitable: emotional ruin.
