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~Lao Tzu
PRESENT
DANTE
Scarlett woke up moody and cross after about four hours of sleep. She had to be on set again. I'd selfishly deprived her of sleep and she let me know it.
When I tried to shower with her, she locked me out of the bathroom.
I was repentant . . . to a point. I was sorry she was exhausted, but I also knew it'd been unavoidable. She was lucky to have gotten any sleep at all.
I was driving her to the studio before she spoke the thing on both of our minds.
"What does Adelaide have on you? Tell me."
I tried not to let my face so much as twitch. "You want to do this now? On your way into a long day of work?"
She didn't answer, which was answer enough. This role was important to her. Even at her most self-sabotaging, she wasn't going to screw it up. And aside from the previous night's unavoidable, sleep-depriving gluttony, I wouldn't be screwing it up for her, either.
"Tonight," she stated stonily, a faint but unmistakable hint of a threat in her voice.
And I knew what the threat was. Of course I did. I needed to talk, or poof, she was gone.
"Tonight," I agreed. "Are your roommates still on a trip?"
"Yes. They come back late tomorrow."
This next part I didn't like. It went against the grain of every instinct I had. But I'd rarely balked at doing what needed to be done. "When they're home, you sleep at your apartment." My tone was careful. I was going for neutral, but it came out more than a touch pained.
I felt her staring at me. Her eyes were burning a hole into the side of my face.
I kept my gaze resolutely on the road.
"Okay," she said simply.
She wasn't even going to ask? I hated that. Hated that she might not really care, that somehow she could go even one more night without me and not need a reason why.
I'd spent many, many nights without her, but I'd always, always, had my reasons and known them too well.
But if she was going to let it drop, I had to let her. I had so many blows to deliver. I needed to pull punches whenever, wherever, however I could.
Maybe if I could space out the damage it would do less lasting harm to her.
One could hope. I was less a man for wishing and more a creature of action, but I'd take anything I could get.
The drop-off didn't go well. She tried to dart out of the car without a goodbye, but I stayed her with a firm grip on her wrist.
"A kiss," I told her solemnly. We would get back on track. We had to. I'd been through hell and back, had lost faith in everything except for this, her and me, simply because I had refused, despite every awful thing working against us, to let it go.
Sometimes faith is a choice.
We would get back on track.
She was as far from me as she could get in the restrictive confines of the vehicle.
It was a small car though, a Jaguar F-Type, so we were still pretty damned close.
"Scarlett, just a kiss. I'll behave myself, I promise."
