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"Are you, Declan? Is it someone you met on the road? I know how isolating it is to be shooting for months on end. I know, I’ve been busy pursuing my career, too."
His eyes flicker, "As you should. You’re a talented artiste. You owe it to yourself to share your voice with people."
"I’d rather sing only for you."
"You shouldn’t treat your art with such disrespect." His hold on me tightens. "You’re a star. You need to shine brightly, and nothing and no one should hold you back."
I frown. "What does that mean? Are you implying you’re holding me back?"
His eyebrows knit. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
"Thatiswhat you’re implying. Is this because my song hit number one before your movie became the top-grossing box office smash you were expecting? Are you holding it against me that my career took off before yours?"
He hesitates, then shakes his head. "You’re putting words in my mouth."
"It’s not my fault my song was such a big success. You know that, right?"
"You need to own your triumphs, Solene," he says softly.
"I’d give everything to go back to when it was just you and me, and neither of us had seen the kind of success that would force us to spend so much time apart."
"You can’t change what’s already happened." He begins to lower his hands, and I catch hold of his wrists.
"What are you saying? Why are you being so defeatist?"
"I’m not the one looking back and wishing for the past. I’m not the one who’s so quick to trade my hard-won success for love. But then, I forget how quickly you became successful. You didn’t have to struggle like—"
"Like you? Are you saying because it took longer for you to get to the top of your game, your success is more relevant than mine?"
"That’s not what I meant,” he says through gritted teeth.
"Yes, you did.” I try to pull away, but this time, he’s the one who locks his fingers around my arms and holds me in place.
"It’s your guilt at not being there for our relationship that’s making you see and hear things when there’s nothing there."
“Why should I feel guilty? You weren’t there for me, either.” I pull away, and to my surprise, he releases me and oh, god, he may as well as have slapped me. "Wait a minute. Are you saying I’m delusional?"
His jaw tics. "I’m saying, we need to stop trading insults and act more civilized with each other."
"And what about you refusing to tell me about that woman I saw you with? Is that being civilized?" I say hotly.
"That’s being... Considerate of your feelings."
"If you were being considerate, you’d tell me who she was."
His gaze shutters. A pulse tics at his temple. He massages his temple as if he’s got a headache brewing there. Good, he should feel some of the pain I’m going through right now.
"You know, deep inside, there’s an irreproachable explanation to what you saw,” he says softly, but there’s an underlying intensity, a seriousness that penetrates to my core.
I swallow, "And I want you to say it."
"And I can’t… Not— I just can't."
I curl my fingers into fists at my sides. "Why not, though? Why can’t you tell me who she is? Why can’t you share why she was upset and why you were consoling her?"
"Because it would hurt you."
The breath whooshes out of me. Until now, I held out hope it was nothing. That really, it was all a misunderstanding. We got our wires crossed. There’s a perfectly simple explanation for what I saw. But something in his eyes, something in how he sets his jaw, how those beautiful lips of his thin, how he seems to retreat deeper behind that wall he puts up between himself and the outside world, tells me that, perhaps, it’s too late. He’d rather not reveal the reasons why he was consoling that woman. He’d rather risk me being upset with him. He’d rather risk that secret driving a wedge between us than come out and tell me who she is and what she means to him.
