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Trent placed a hand over the phone screen.
She shot him a look. “Did you say something?” she asked, swiping his hand away.
“I said, I hope you’re not taking on any of the work to make sure that the B&B is ready.”
“Of course I am.”
“Of course you are,” Trent said on a deep breath as he pulled into an empty space in the living facility parking lot.
Whitney glanced up from the email she was typing. “What’s that tone supposed to mean?” She turned in the passenger seat to face him.
Behind his dark sunglasses, she could see his disapproval. He thought she was a workaholic, and maybe she was. But that hadn’t bothered him when they first met. Back then, he’d admired her strong work ethic. And he worked long hours at the bar, ensuring its success, expanding quickly over the last few years. It was okay for him to be ambitious, but not her?
“It means that I think you’re overcommitting again.”
Whitney blinked. “Excuse me?”
Trent held up a hand. “Nope. You’re not getting an argument. I just meant that you do this—you take on way too much, and you wear yourself out.”
One time. The one time she’d shown any sort of weakness, passing out behind the wheel after several long projects, and he used it against her. Last time she showed any weakness, if she could help it. “I’m fine.”
Somedays, keeping her illness a secret, even from Trent, was the hardest part, but she had too much going on right now to have everything crumble around her. Pretending things were fine was the only way she could survive her heavy workload, and the latest bill from Rejuvenation reminded her how important it was to keep her employment.
These recent mistakes had her anxious enough. Scott lurking in the wings, ready to pounce on her position the moment she messed something up, had her suffering from nightmares whenever she did try to sleep. Being self-employed, his own boss, Trent couldn’t possibly understand the pressure she was under. If she told him, he’d only insist she take time off and start to take better care of herself. She knew she should, but that would mean relying on him more, and her independence streak was deep-rooted.
Being adopted at a young age, she’d never quite shaken the feeling of needing to be self-reliant, despite amazing, supportive parents and wonderful friends. She trusted Trent more than anything, but there was still a small part of her that kept a guard up in self-preservation.
Trent touched her shoulder. “You’re amazing. But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything for everyone all the time. You have your own career, your mom to take care of…” He paused. “And a wedding to plan.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So that’s what you’re worried about—the wedding. You think I’ll put off making decisions because I have all of this Halloween and fall stuff on my plate for the next few weeks.” Work was hardly the reason she refused to commit to wedding plans. Planning things was what she did for a living. She could bang out the details for the entire event in less than an hour with her extensive local contact list and hard-earned relationships in town with vendors. The time commitment wasn’t a factor in her delaying.
“Won’t you?” Trent challenged, obviously not willing to drop the issue.
“No. As a matter of fact, I decided on wedding colors yesterday.” Or right this second. She had to give him something. Get him off her back for now. She was too busy to keep having the same discussions.
“Wedding colors?” he asked slowly, as though it wasn’t quite a huge step forward.
She held her chin high. “A lot of other decisions depend on the wedding colors.” At least that’s what she’d heard Jessica and Sarah say. Or caught wind of it when she tuned out as they discussed wedding plans. Which seemed to be all the time…when they weren’t talking about the baby, of course.
“Okay. What are they?”
“The colors?”
Trent nodded. “Yes, the colors. What have you decided?”
Whitney fought to control the tightening in her chest. So much pressure. It was just freaking wedding colors. “Um…blue and silver.” There. Decision made.
“What shade of blue?” Trent asked.
Did it freaking matter? “A light blue…like sky blue.”
“Silver and sky blue. You mean like the Rejuvenation logo over there?” he said, pointing to the sign she was desperately trying not to stare at directly.
Damn. “Yes. Exactly like that.” She grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle.
“Whitney.”
His voice made her pause, and the feel of his hand on her cheek melted her annoyance. He’d make things so much easier if he were an asshole. If the passion between them had faded in the years they were together, she’d have a reason to postpone their future together. If their friendship wasn’t so strong, it would be easier to hide her hesitancy. If he didn’t know her better than anyone, she could fake how she was feeling.
