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“Sorry if my insomnia inconveniences you,” I bite out as I shoot to my feet, slamming my laptop closed. “I’ll be sure to have a discussion with my subconscious, ask it to delay any nightmares until you’ve gone back to California.”
I grab my tea and push past him, my aggravation increasing as I storm into the kitchen. I’m surprised the tea cup doesn’t shatter when I practically throw it into the sink.
Placing my clenched hands on the counter, I draw in deep breath after deep breath.
It’s probably just the lack of sleep making my unusually irritable, but with every passing second, I feel like Tristan understands me less and less.
I feel like I’m seeing a side of Tristan I’ve been content to ignore until now.
Or maybe I justwantto see this side of him.
I don’t even know anymore.
“It’s not an inconvenience at all, Esme.”
He pulls me toward him and envelops me in a hug, his voice gentle and soothing. His fingertips trace the length of my arms, warmth radiating from his touch.
“I’m just worried about you. You can’t go on like this.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, a wave of regret washing over me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m normally calm and even-tempered, but lately—”
“Hey.” He touches my chin, forcing my gaze up. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve been through a lot. Coming back here. Then nearly being killed.” His voice wavers slightly. “It’s enough to push anyone to their limits. But we’ll get through it.” He lowers his lips toward me. “Together.”
My eyes flutter shut as his mouth touches mine. I let out a soft sigh, hoping his kiss holds the same spark it once did. That it will jumpstart my heart into feeling something for him.
Instead, I feel as empty as I have all week.
He brings the kiss to an end, his gaze tracing over my face. I almost expect him to call me out on the lack of desire in our kiss when it used to be fiery and full of passion.
“Come to California with me,” he says after a beat.
“What?” I cough, his statement taking me by surprise.
“You deserve a break. You can relax by the pool when I’m on set. Read all those romance novels you love so we can try to recreate some of the hotter scenes. And I won’t have to come home to an empty house. We can find some sort of normalcy again.” He takes my hand in his. “Find some semblance of happiness again. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once since you’ve been back here. Haven’t heard you laugh. I miss that. Miss how you used to be in Paris. Miss whoweused to be in Paris. How happy we were. How easy—”
“What if I’ll never be that person again?” I pull away and cross my arms in front of my chest.
“Of course you will. I get that you’ve been through something traumatic, that it won’t happen overnight. But eventually, you’ll work past all of this and be back to your normal self.”
“What if I don’twantto be that person again?” I hesitate. “What if I don’t want to go back to Paris?”
He blinks, uncertainty flickering in his expression. “I thought you were happy in Paris. I thoughtwewere happy in Paris.” His shoulders tense as he widens his stance.
“I thought so, too.”
I chew on my bottom lip, a myriad of thoughts and emotions warring for attention in my brain. I didn’t anticipate having this conversation now, especially at four in the morning after yet another sleepless night. I could brush it off, pull him back to the bedroom. Surrender to him so he can’t see the turmoil in my mind.
But that hasn’t solved anything so far. It won’t fix anything now, either.
It won’t fix us.
“In the beginning ofThe Wizard of Oz, do you remember how Dorothy wishes more than anything to find a place where her troubles won’t find her? Somewhere over the rainbow, as it were?”
He nods, the movement subtle.
“But when that tornado transports her over the rainbow, all she wants to do is go back home, especially when she learns there’s no place far enough away where her troubles won’t find her?”
He gives another slow, deliberate nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
