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“Bit colder in Boston, pal.”
“Not that much colder,” he said. “I used to live in New York City, remember?”
“No. You never talk about that stuff.”
“Well,” he shrugged, “not much to say about it. I was pretty much a slave. I had no social life, no sleep, no—well, no anything. I just worked and slept four hours a night, lather, rinse, repeat.”
“Was it worth it?”
He tucked a strand of hair over her ear. “Every second. Isn’t your music?”
She pressed her face into his hand. “Every second.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Well, except for the fighting. I could trade that in for a few new guitar picks and a pedal board.”
“They’re still being little bitches, huh?”
“I feel like I’m living back in the boarding school and everyone has synced up their periods.”
“Now there’s an image. The red tide with that many females? God, no.”
She laughed. “Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.”
He lifted her suitcase and led her to the elevator. “Boarding school, huh?”
“Yeah. My parents were definitely not into having me and Margo around at home.”
“That sucks. At least you got to go home for the holidays.”
She leaned against the railing. “Sometimes. Usually, I disappeared with friends who were willing to let me tag along.”
He frowned down at her.
Juliet nudged him. “It wasn’t that bad. I was far more excited about going to Paris and Italy during Christmas break than watching my parents pretend to be a family. Or even better, to pretend my father wasn’t stealing glances at his watch.”
“Because he had to go back to work?”
“No.” The elevator stopped on the first floor. Tristan gazed down at her, but she didn’t really want to say anything else. Not exactly the lightest conversation, especially before they were about to fight their way to LAX.
He opened the elevator gate, his arm up as he loomed over her. Instead of giving her space—Tris was usually pretty good at this game—he moved in closer, his body heat driving her crazy as much as it made her want to back up and ignore everything.
This was the best part of Tristan. He didn’t ask questions, he didn't like messy. So, why the hell was he getting in her space now?
Please don’t ask.
Please don’t ask.
He tipped his head, his flirty smile fading. “Why was he keeping tabs on time, babe?”
She ducked under his arm and stalked through the hallway and out the front of the building. Scraping wheels followed her out to the parking lot. It was bad enough living through the reality of her father’s endless parade of mistresses, but to actually talk about it?
Well, maybe there was a bit of her mother in her after all.
It was easier to bury the emotions and keep things light. Funny how she ended up with a man—with two men, but Tris was her focus right now—who was just as happy to keep things noncommittal as she was. And seeing those earnest gray-blue eyes focused on her was not helping things.
She wanted to tell him, and at the same time, she liked the bubble they were living in. Bubbles were safer.
His Jag shimmered a little in the early morning sunlight. She quickly blinked until the blur went back to the clear reality she was used to.
No tears.
