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I am suddenly on alert. Reece’s eyes have a dangerous glitter to them and I can see that he’s angry and I have no clue why.
“Tell me about chapter fifteen, Lucía.”
I draw a blank. “What’s chapter fifteen?”
He flexes his jaw, and my heart is sprinting now. What could have made him so angry? “Chapter fifteen in your fucking book. Where did you get that story from? I know you. It’s not from your imagination.”
Goose bumps erupt from my scalp to the soles of my feet. How does he know that?
“Throw Away the Key is fiction—” I start to say.
He growls and stops me by grabbing my arms and puts his face close to mine. He seethes. “No. It’s. Not.”
I wince and he loosens his grip on my arms. “Tell me the truth, Lucía. I’m warning you—if you lie to me, I’ll fire you. And I’ll make sure no one else will work with you either.”
My heart catches in my throat and I feel a surge of fear. What is going on? I try to sound calm and try to answer his question.
I look at him, feel the pinch of his fingers on my arms and rage, hot and wild supplants my fear. How dare he threaten me? I wrench my arms out of his hold and meet his accusations head on. “I have never lied to you.”
He steps toward me and I put my hands on his chest, holding him away. “Don’t you dare touch me again,” I say, my voice shaking with my anger. “Yes, parts of the story are taken from my real life. And you can’t come in here, put your fucking hands on me and threaten me. I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“The hell you don’t. Tell me about chapter fifteen,” he roars and I can see real anguish in his eyes. I don’t understand any of this.
“Reece, chapter fifteen is based on what happened to my brother, Julian. I wanted to pay to tribute to him, by including what happened to him in this story,” I tell him as I look into his eyes. I’m tired and unable to fight any longer.
He steps back. His eyes going from angry to horrified. The dread almost overwhelms me and I take a stumbling step backward, too. I have a feeling that distance between us might be a very good thing right now.
“I thought you’d read the book months ago. Why are you only now asking about chapter fifteen?”
His shoulders sag a little and he turns to face me. When he speaks his voice is mournful.
“I hadn’t finished it. I got to the half way point and knew I had to find you and make it into film, I didn’t even care how it turned out. I’ve been meaning to finish it… but I’ve been busy.”
Any other day, I’d be upset that he’d only pretended to read it all, but right now, that feels insignificant.
“Then, how do you know about chapter fifteen and how did you know it isn’t fiction?” I ask, dread creeping into me, hope, seeping out.
Far from the angry way he started this conversation, Reece seems almost despondent.
“Lucía, I want to tell you a story. But before that, I want to tell you that I meant what I said in the pool. And I meant what I said in my email.” He tugs me into his chest and holds me there. I let myself savor the contact. My anger has lost its fuel. It’s been replaced by icy f
ear.
“Reece, whatever it is. I don’t want to know. Please,” I beg.
His lips caress the top of my head when he speaks. “I’ve got real feelings for you.” My arms circle his waist. “I’ve been struggling this week. I’ve thought about us being in a relationship and worried that you were too young to be locked into one.” I squeeze him. “I thought it might be too soon for you. And there was also the whole ‘you work for me’ thing that I thought would make things difficult. But I’m not a kid. I’ve got an ex-wife who’s a pain in the ass. And you’re not ready for the kind of media attention you’ll get when we get together. And then there’s your status. We’ve got to figure out a way to do something about it.”
Even though he’s in my arms, with each sentence, I feel like he’s taking a step away from me.
His hands come up and skim my face, his eyes mournful, his fingers wiping the moisture from my cheeks. It’s only then that I realize I’m crying. “But fuck me, I can’t stay away from you. I have moments every day, where you’re all I can think about. So, I decided I was going to drive out here tomorrow and just tell you how I feel and what I want.”
Hope, a small and fragile fleck of it, flutters in my chest.
“And then I read chapter fifteen, And Luc, I’ve been so angry ever since. I drove here to rip you a new one. I thought you’d been lying to me . . . but this is so much worse.”
I’ve clearly missed something, but just like that my hope is gone again. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and brace myself.
“I know that story, Lucía. It’s my story.”
