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“The rumors, the speculation about her life, it was just … awful. The articles were cruel. I don’t think that’s even a strong enough word. After my dad died …”
Closing my eyes, images of the old, bent gossip rags hidden in my mother’s desk drawer flash through my mind.
Gary Rush’s Tragic Death.
Actress Brenda Rush in Mourning.
Brenda Rush announces pregnancy with belated husband’s child.
Baby watch! Rush due any day.
“How old were you?”
“I wasn’t even born yet.” A familiar ache in my chest makes itself known. A missing part of my heart from never knowing my father.
Eli slides onto the lounger next to me, taking my hand in his and giving it a light squeeze. He hesitates before asking, “Do you want to talk about him? About what happened?”
“There’s not much to tell. He was a stunt director. Stopped at the store on his way home from the set one day and walked in on a robbery. He was shot and killed.”
And now Eli knows as much as I do about what happened twenty-five years ago. Because my mother refuses to talk to me about him. There are no pictures of him in the house. It’s like she closed herself off after that night.
“I’m so sorry, Taylor. I can’t imagine what it was like for you growing up without your dad.”
All I can do is nod, feeling the prickle of tears at the corner of my eyes. I don’t bring him up, ever, and I try not to think about everything I missed out on. It only makes the pain real.
“If you ever want to talk about him more, I’m here,” he offers, moving to cup my cheeks with his large hands.
“I appreciate that, but right now, all I need is another drink.”
“And maybe this.”
Eli’s lips capture mine in the most passionate kiss I’ve ever experienced. His hands hold my face hostage. His lips gently coax mine open. The way his tongue expertly dances with mine, causing a moan to escape my throat, I can’t imagine a more perfect kiss.
Which is why I shouldn’t be surprised when it’s interrupted.
