Page 55 of Not You Again
I frown, unsure of what she means.
She sighs, her fingers falling to my chest. My heart lunges toward them like it’s been summoned. “You’ve been so controlled,” she says to my chest, “I was worried I lost you.”
“I’m right here,” I say gently. “If you want me, all you have to do is ask.”
She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to say something.
I sigh and press my fingers to the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes.
Her whisper is so small, I almost miss it. “I’m asking.”
I open my eyes and meet her gaze. Her eyes are open and honest and hopeful.
“I want you to be comfortable around me. Even when—especially when the cameras aren’t around.” She shifts on her feet.
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket again. I grumble a curse under my breath. “I’m running late. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Her hand falls to her side as she breaks our connection. I miss her touch already.
Before she can go, I bow to press my lips to her cheek and whisper, “You look beautiful.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEANDIE
Cassidy greets me when I pull into Ax Me No Questions—a bar with ax throwing in the back—ready to clip my mic on. She tells me Kit’s already inside.
This date has been on our schedule for a while, because apparently watching us go to work and hang out before bed isn’t interesting enough. After our moment in the bedroom this morning, I haven’t been able to think about anything but Kit and how he said my name as he came. Dealing with another one of the show’s forced scenarios is not something I’m interested in tonight.
I take a deep breath as I head to the back of the building, where we’ve been permitted to film with no interference. Kit is already here, as promised, and he’s chatting with Dr. Shaw.
I stop short. “Is this a therapy session?”
Cassidy nudges me forward. “It’s a date. With a little assistance.”
Dr. Shaw perches on a barstool while an extra producer runs a fluffy makeup brush over her obscenely high cheekbones. Kit leans on the tabletop, flashing his charming smile. The one that doesn’t reach his eyes. I hate that smile.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Andie?” Dr. Shaw says when the producer steps out of frame.
I offer a weak smile and tiptoe over the cords crisscrossing the painted cement floor to join them at the table.
Kit gives me a lopsided grin. “Hey. How was your day?”
I can’t tell if he’s asking because he was coached to or if he means it, so I only offer the perfunctory, “Good. Thanks.”
“I’m just here to check in and see how things are going,” Dr. Shaw says from her corner of the room. “To hear how you’re adjusting or help you through an argument you two may have had, that sort of thing. You’re the only couple that knew each other before the altar, so your journey is a bit different than the others.”
Kit clears his throat. “So far, I think we’re doing well, considering the circumstances.”
“Do you agree, Andie?” Dr. Shaw pins me with a look that sees all. Shit.
“Sure.” I lift one of my shoulders. “So, um, why are we here if we’re supposed to talk with you?”
Dr. Shaw smiles. “While we’re not there for every moment of your marriage, we do see some of the footage, and we noticed something way back on your honeymoon.”
“What’s that?” Kit wraps his fingers around a pint of beer. Even now, in this room full of people and cameras, I’m thinking about how they wrapped around his—
“You both do better when you’re up against a challenge. Working as a team,” Dr. Shaw explains.
I blink away the memory of Kit’s hands. “So we’re here to throw sharp objects across the room?”