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“Oh, trust me, we’ve done way more than this. In fact, remember that time you?—”
“Annnd I’m out,” Nash says, jumping up from the chair.
Val and I snicker as he takes off to join the others in the kitchen.
Val’s gaze turns serious once we’re alone. “Look, I know this is bad and the odds are stacked against us, but we’re going to find a way. I’m not sure what that is yet, but I’m not giving up.”
I trace my fingers along his jaw as his words sink in. I trust him. At least, I trust his will to solve this dilemma. But what if it’s bigger than us? I’ve never been a believer in “willpower.” I’ve seen what this big ugly world can do when it turns its wrath against you. You can fight all you want, but at the end of the day, all you really control are your thoughts, feelings, and actions. I’m not sure that will be enough to solve this one, and right now I have a very ugly obstacle in my direct path.
“I don’t know how much longer I can pretend with Jarvis,” I say, searching Val’s eyes. It can’t be easy for him to see me with another man, especially one as awful as this one. “I can’t even stand to look at him, let alone be engaged to him.”
“I hate it too,” Val says before his frown tips up in the slightest smile. “But I guess it helps that he doesn’t want to be engaged to you either.”
I bite back a snort at the absurdity of that statement. Gosh, it captures the essence of this mess so perfectly.
“Do we have anything else important to discuss?” I ask in a sly tone.
“A lot, actually.”
I lean close and brush my lips over his. “More important than kissing me?”
His grin breaks. “Nothing could ever be more important than that.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
25—PITTSBURGH (THE IVY LEAF)
VAL
There was a lot more on my list to tell Larinda at our secret rendezvous, but once the kissing started, I forgot all about spy games. It just felt so good to be with her again, to absorb her smile and suck up her light. It wasn’t until Nash and I were making our way back to the hotel that I remembered I was supposed to mention how Jarvis sampled some of my work for his awful song—production I had done as a favor to Larinda during their final (very brief) “on” phase about ten months ago.
Since, technically, working with Jarvis would be a breach of contract, I don’t want credit anyway, but just the fact that he’d use my samples for this specific song has me on edge. It’s disconcerting to say the least, so we’ve added that to the list of likely threats to watch for.
I also forgot to mention that one of the more explicit threats (this one courtesy of Rena) was having me kicked off Larinda’s album if I tried to contact her before the end of the tour. That one would have held more weight if we didn’t suspect Larinda was going to be kicked off her own album soon. Most of the other warnings issued by Rena and Lakebend’s lawyers were similarly weak, but a few had my heart racing a little faster and dread pooling in my stomach. Since we don’t have a counterplan yet, we have no choice but to lie low and give in to their demands while we regroup.
I feel a little better about the situation now that I’ve had a chance to see her, though, even if our time was way too short and way too supervised. I don’t like that she’s essentially on her own in that viper den, but Nash promised to bring Steve into the loop, so at least she’d have one ally behind enemy lines. Her meddling PA was never my favorite person, but he loves Larinda, and most of his offenses stem from too much loyalty, not too little.
For now, I have my own battle looming.
“You don’t have to do this,” Paige says after the rideshare drops us at the fancy restaurant my parents booked.
“I do, and you know it.”
She squeezes my arm, but I avoid what I’m sure is a pitying expression. I don’t need comfort right now. I need to stay strong and emotionless, to lock away the years of pain and rejection. No one can see the true depth of the wounds that have punctured my soul, despite my best efforts to cover them.
Nobody needs you. Nobody even wants you.
I take a deep breath and force down the familiar chant that’s been echoed so many times throughout my life. Jarvis thought he was being so original, but he was just the latest voice telling me what I already know.
“Let’s do this,” I say. “Hopefully, this is one of those places that has fifty-dollar crackers with a dab of mush on it. I’ll be ordering all of those.”
Paige smirks as she pulls open the outer door to the restaurant. “Same. ‘Make that two mush-crackers, please.’”
I toss her a smile and hold the inside door for her. “Do you think I’m overdressed, though?” I ask.
She does a dramatic once-over of my “nice” jeans and only button-up shirt.
“I think you’re good,” she says dryly.
