Page 32 of Making the Save
I was completely and utterly out of my depth, like a virgin at an orgy, because I could do nothing but take him in and let him overwhelm me in every possible way.
He planted me firmly back on my feet and spun me so my back was against his front and I could feel him against me. A hard wall of Wyatt.
“If you don’t mind,” he said to Tricia, who was looking at us in shock, and, dare I say, a little envy. “We’re on our honeymoon and we’d like to get back to it.”
“He means sex,” I blurted. Because he’d kissed my brain into mush.
The only ones who knew that wasn’t true were me and Wyatt.
“All the sex,” I finished lamely. “On our honeymoon.”
“Let me show you to the door,” Beatrice said, stepping into the middle of the living room like the experienced body-man she was. Sparing me any further embarrassment.
When the crew was gone, it was just Tyler and Beatrice looking at Wyatt and me like we were misbehaving children.
“Well, that went to shit in a handbag,” Tyler announced.
“That’s not the proper expression,” Beatrice reprimanded him. “We should talk about our next steps.”
“We’renot talking about anything,” Wyatt announced. “Syd and I are the only two people who have to talk.”
“What do we have to talk about?” I turned to look at him over my shoulder.
It was a legitimate question, but it only made him scowl more.
“Come with me. You two can leave,” he said to Beatrice and Tyler.
He took my hand in his and pulled me back down the hallway towards my bedroom. Once inside, he shut the door, cutting us off from the rest of the house.
He didn’t want to have sex right now, did he?
Did I want to have sex?
“We can’t have sex,” I hissed at him. “I barely know you.”
“Fuck, Syd, I didn’t bring you back here for that. That kiss was just for show.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. Good show.” I knew I must be turning red all over. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and along my neck.
“I don’t give a shit what your manager wants or what your fans want. What do you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“I helped to get you into this mess, I can help get you out of this mess. Just tell me what you want. Because that fucking interview can’t be it. Do you want to keep pretending, or do you want to end this?”
A thousand thoughts raced through my head.What did I want?That was such a loaded question. It was always just easier to have people tell me what I wanted.
Fame. Money. Awards. Pretty dresses. Handsome, famous boyfriends. That was what I was supposed to want, so I did what I was supposed to do to get it. I played the game. The game was never about me.
I plopped down on the edge of the bed, my fingers twisted together.
“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what’s best. I know it’s shitty no matter what we do. So why don’t you just make it easy and decide. You tell me what you want and we’ll just go with that.”
I thought he was going to say a quick divorce. It would be the easiest course of action. Undo the mistake we made and move on with our lives. There would be fallout for me, sure, but I’d survive it. I always did.
He cupped my chin in his big beefy hand and gently nudged it up so I was looking at him directly. I had no idea what he was thinking.
“Fuck it,” he said. “Let’s stay married.”