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“It's a little surreal actually,” she replied with a nervous, tittering laugh. “I guess it doesn't help that this whole damn thing is obviously about me.”
“It's not only about you though,” I corrected, shifting my body further down the bed to lie back and fold an arm behind my head. “It's about us.”
“Us,” she whispered, sounding farther away than she had seconds ago.
That one syllable hung in the air, begging to be accompanied by more. A confession, a declaration, an admission of some sort. Something to explain the broken sound of her voice and the gut-wrenching silence that separated our bodies more than the miles.
She said nothing though, leaving the ball in my court, and I wondered if it would always be like this. A constant push and pull, a seemingly never-ending trend of hot and cold. It had to stop eventually. Whether we finally allowed destiny to take the wheel and steer us toward each other or she married Peter and removed me from her life completely, it had to end. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next month …
But it wasn’t happening tonight.
“So, how's the book coming along?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Lennon
In his old pickup, Connor pulled up to the MacArthur Airport terminal, where Tarryn waited beside a pile of Louis Vuitton luggage. Wearing a tracksuit and a gigantic pair of sunglasses, she quickly climbed into the backseat of the cab to sit beside Sammy.
“Hey, kiddo,” she greeted Sammy before addressing my brother. “Connor, would you mind grabbing my bags?” she asked as she opened her Fendi bag. “My hair is a friggin' wreck.”
I glanced at Connor and his tense, twitching jaw.
“Do I have a choice?” he grumbled without an attempt to hide his irritation while pushing the door open and climbing out.
Tarryn had insisted on getting herself a car from the airport, but I’d wanted to pick her up. It reminded me of the old days when she was only doing commercials and uncredited roles in small movies never destined to do well. Unfortunately, that meant recruiting someone else to chauffeur us around, and since my parents were already busy, that only left Connor to sacrifice his day off.
He hadn’t been thrilled, but he’d begrudgingly agreed.
“How was the flight?” I asked, turning in my seat to face my best and oldest friend.
“Long,” she replied as she dug out a compact mirror. “And you know me; I can't sleep on planes. So, I am so ready to crash; it's not even funny.”
The repeated clunking of Tarryn's bags hitting the bed of the pickup rattled through the cab, and Tarryn glanced over her shoulder.
“Hey!” she shouted, smacking her hand against the window. “There's fragile stuff in those!”
Sammy giggled as her father called back, “Oh, so sorry, Your Highness. I'll be gentler next time.”
CLUNK!
Tarryn shook her head as her eyes glued onto the mirror once again. “I swear to God, if he breaks anything …”
“It wouldn’t matter,” I said. “He doesn’t have the funds to replace any of your stuff.”
“Then, I guess he’ll have to repay me in favors,” she said with a sigh, and I swore I saw her smirk shift to a hopeful smile.
With the last of her bags in the truck bed, Connor climbed in and pulled away from the curb. On the ride back to the house, Tarryn and I talked about what food we were ordering before she went into a twelve-hour coma, and I couldn't help but notice the way she crinkled her nose at the mention of McDonald's.
“Since when do you not eat Big Macs?” I asked incredulously.
“Uh, since my weight actually started to matter,” she fired back, scoffing.
“Oh, come on.” I rolled my eyes. “One Big Mac wouldn't ruin your diet.”
“Yeah, except it would,” she replied. “If I ate one, I'd eat another and another until I gained thirty friggin' pounds. Then, I'd be out of a job.”
Connor's hands clenched around the steering wheel, and his head shook. “Maybe you should find another job then,” he suggested in a wry tone.
