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He didn’t even fold the shirts. Just dumped them in the suitcase. “I’ve never taken anyone with me before.”
God, why had Mary put up with this all these years? “And what happens after this solo retreat?”
“We go into the studio.” He dug beneath the mound of clothing and pulled out a T-shirt, found a pair of boxer briefs and jeans.
“And where will that be?”
Whipping off the towel, he got dressed. “Depends on the producer. Could be anywhere.”
“And then?”
“And then we’ll tour.”
“Okay. So, let’s say I choose to stick with you through all of this, what do you imagine I’ll be doing while you’re in the studio and touring?”
“I guess you’ll be starting your event planning business.” He sounded exasperated.
She’d never been punched in the stomach, but it had to feel like this. That doubling-over kind of pain, the sickening sensation spreading through her body. “Oh, okay. Got it. I’m going back to Arizona.” Fuck him. Now, it was her turn to pack. Like hell she’d lounge around the pool in paradise, sleeping in the same bed where they’d made love, using the same shower where they’d fucked.
She grabbed an armful of clothes off hangers, but when she turned around, he was blocking the closet doorway.
“I don’t know what you want from me.” He cracked a bitter grin. “No, actually, I know exactly what you want. You want me to be the guy on the bus, the guy you spent three days with. Well, guess what, Della? You’re not the only one who wants me to be something. Martin wants me to be the man who keeps this machine running smoothly three-hundred-sixty-five days a year. My label wants me to churn out hits and keep Van Claybourne on the charts. My family wants me to be the provider, the one who keeps us all together. And now you want me to be the next Bryan Adams.”
“Why are you angry with me?”
“Because I thought you were the only one who wanted me to just be me.”
“This isn’t you. This is the old you. I’m the only one who wants you to be happy. If you loved your life, I wouldn’t say a word. But you don’t. You told me you don’t. Reid told me he doesn’t.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “End of a tour. It’s always like that.”
“Oh, my God, you’re just rolling out all the lines, aren’t you? Okay, well, I can’t get through to you, so…” She pushed past him and set her dresses in the carry-on.
“Get through to me? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m the woman you fell in love with. Because I see you and listen to you and root for you to live for yourself for the first time in your life.”
“Except for that little agenda you’ve got where I fit into your idea of me. You have this image in your head of us hanging out all day, writing poems and lyrics, having deep conversations. That’s not life. That’s a three-day break from life. Jesus, Della, I can’t have one more person telling me who they need me to be.”
For the first time, she understood the expression shaking like a leaf. Because that’s what she was doing. She was a fragile wisp of a thing trembling in a brisk wind. “I need to hear you say it. Just say the words. Are you ending it with me? Are we done?”
Fear sliced through his anger. It was just a flash, but it was real. “I didn’t say that. But if we try to make a go of this, you have to understand what my life will be like for the next eighteen months.”
“Yes, I understand.”
He relaxed, even gave her a relieved smile.
“I understand you want me to be Mary. You want me to be satisfied with the occasional phone call where we catch each other up on our business issues.”
“I know you’re not Mary, but this is the reality of my life—”
“Stop it. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t bullshit me. Because I know the real man. And I know why you went back into hiding. I’ve never performed, but it had to suck to be heckled when you were wearing your heart on your sleeve. But you’re not sixteen, this isn’t high school, and I won’t hide out on the bus with you anymore. Dammit, Bex. You’re so much better than this.”
“You mean the idea you had of me is so much better than who I turned out to be. And I can’t help you with that. This is who I am. And if that’s not good enough for you, then, I guess there’s nothing more to talk about.”
