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“Mia,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me.
Sighing, I leaned back into the sofa, our shoulders touching. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through me. “Fine. Yes, I hate the meetings sometimes. I want to be involved in my company, but sometimes I just wish I could continue to design. But the budgeting meetings need to happen and everyone needs to play nice in the sandbox, so I attend them. I do what I have to do to keep things running.”
“You do an amazing job with it.” His hand brushed across mine, and he stopped and gave it a squeeze. “Why is Catherine here?”
“She’s a PR professional. We need her to help reach a wider audience. It’s not that marketing isn’t cutting it”—I paused, taking a sip of my wine—“but she’s good at helping us hone our brand. She gives it that extra bit of sparkle we’ve been missing.”
Terry nodded, then he was quiet for a moment. “I know what she does. But I get the feeling it’s not the only reason you have her. Your marketing department is smart. Timothy said that all the ideas she’s suggested have been mentioned before. So why does Catherine say it and you do it, but with your own people, you don’t?”
“Terry,” I said, my voice coming out in warning.
“Just tell me why.”
I sighed, then drained the rest of my wine. “She’s here because the company needs me to be the face of it. Do the interviews, handle the publicity and attention we’re getting. I’m not that good at it. I’m uncomfortable being in front of the cameras.”
Pausing, I refilled my wine. I didn’t want to go into any more details about my aversion to the public eye. Catherine knew enough. Well, she only knew once the DV stuff came to light. I should have admitted it to her sooner, but Ally and I had thought we could avoid it. That’s what I convinced Ally to go along with, at least, the idea that I was shy and that was why I kept myself out of the spotlight. That it was why I declined media interviews and avoided press launches and tried to keep myself from the public. Hell, the website hadn’t even had a picture of me until Catherine got here.
“Is it because of what happened to you? Is that the reason you do the work for the domestic violence shelters? Serving dinners on Christmas, the monetary donations, and attending their events?”
“I serve dinners on Christmas because I have no family and no one to spend Christmas with,” I said with a shrug. I was trying to play it off. We were practically orphans after all, him and me.
“Mia, I know something happened to you. I just wish you’d let me in. I saw the burn marks on your body when we were making love. Who did that to you?”
I swallowed. I knew he would see them, but he hadn’t brought them up before now. The more we were together, the more time he took with me instead of the hard and fast fucks, meant he was bound to find out. But I had hoped he’d never bring them up. I was wrong.
“Please. I don’t wanna talk about that. It’s been a long day.”
My phone beeped on the table at the same time Terry’s did. We leaned forward to check our phones at the same time. His was a simple email from a department store. Mine was a text from Bryce, and he saw it.
I snatched up my phone, hoping he didn’t see the words. But when I turned to look at him, I could tell he had. He was watching me, a tense expression on his face.
We stared at each other for a beat. I went to answer the text, and Terry jumped up from the couch. He began pacing.
Bryce: Feel like hanging out this weekend?
Reading the text over and over again, I thought about what it must have looked like to Terry.
“Terry.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but I could tell he was listening to me. The pacing stopped. “He doesn’t know that we’ve been spending time together like this. I haven’t spoken to him at all this week. Our normal is that, every few weekends, we get together and hang out. It’s the only type of relationship I’ve been able to maintain since...” My voice trailed off, and I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
Terry watched me before pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a loud sigh. His eyes would no longer meet mine, no matter how much I willed them to.
“Wait a minute,” I said, jumping to my feet. “Why am I getting all bent out of shape over this? What are we even doing here, anyway? Are we a couple? Have you stopped screwing models?”
“There haven’t been any photo shoots this week.” His comment was meant as a joke—I could tell by the smirk on his face—but it pissed me off.
“Are you freaking kidding me? That’s all you have to say? There haven’t been any photo shoots this week?” I stopped in front of him and placed my hands on my hips. I was livid. “Are you saying if there was a photo shoot and an opportunity presented itself you would have taken it?”
Terry laughed—he actually laughed at me. I shoved his shoulder and went to grab my glass.
“Mia, Mia,” he said as he trailed after me. “Come on, I’m not saying that. Would you please calm down? Think about it from my point of view. You and I have been having a great week together, and then I see this text from Bryce.” He spat his name like a curse. “How would you react if the shoe was on the other foot? Answer me honestly.”
I sighed and gulped some more wine. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I would react. But I don’t think reminding me that you haven’t had the opportunity to screw someone yet is the best way to proceed here.”
Terry laughed again, and I stomped my foot. This made Terry laugh harder. “Did you seriously just stomp your foot at me?”
“I hate you right now,” I seethed.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling me in for a side hug.
