“Why should I?” She swept her necklace into her top drawer, not ready to discuss the change yet, not even with her sister.
Miranda shot her an epic–level side eye. “They’re going to be live–streaming it, and it’s live on three of the cable news networks too.” She grabbed Natalie’s keyboard. “Here, let me.”
Sean appeared on the computer screen in a close–up shot and her pulse kicked up to heavy cardio levels. He’d shaved his beard, revealing a square jaw with a dimpled chin, and he’d ditched his Sweet Salvation Brewery hat. His wavy hair was artfully tousled and his leather jacket emphasized the dangerous edge to his rugged good looks.
There was no denying who he was now. Sean O’Dell was gone.
And she was glad. Really. Fucking. Glad.
She ripped her gaze away from the screen and bit down on her quivering bottom lip. Her throat tightened with emotion that threatened to spill over and she blinked rapidly. “I really don’t want to see him—”
“It’s about to start. Why isn’t your sound working?” Miranda grabbed the mouse and clicked several times until she got the volume where she wanted it.
“So Sean, what happened?” Rupert asked.
Sean looked directly into the camera, but it was as if he were looking right at Natalie. She couldn’t stop the quaking in her shoulders as the tears came down.
“I’ve spent most of my life pretending to be someone else,” Sean said. “In the beginning it was pretending to be the perfect son to avoid my father’s fists. I got good enough at faking it that people started to pay me to be someone else. I liked it. It was easier than figuring out who I was. But all of it caught up with me and I realized on that stage, with that gold statue in my hand, that I’d been pretending for so long, I had no idea what was real.”
“So you disappeared,” Rupert said from off screen. “Your father was your manager, but even he didn’t know where you went.”
“No.”
“I see.” Rupert paused for dramatic effect. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much love lost.”
Sean just gave him the patented shut–up–and–you’ll–live–keep–talking–and–you–die dirty look. Natalie clasped her hands together in her lap to keep from reaching through her computer screen to smack the obnoxious reporter upside the head.
Rupert cleared his throat. “You’ve done a lot to avoid the press, your family, and anyone tied to the entertainment industry. Why agree to this interview now?”
The camera operator zoomed in on Sean’s face. Natalie stopped breathing and her hand flew to her neck. The pearls were gone, but old habits died hard.
“Because I’m done running.” The camera pulled back, showing the Sweet Salvation Brewery sign that Sean stood in front of. “My name is Sean Duvin. I don’t have a lot to recommend me. I’ve lied to the people I care about. I’ll probably never want to sit around and talk about my feelings. I’m a slob. I like to fly by the seat of my pants. But I love you, Natalie Sweet. I love your button–up sweaters, the fact that you’re always talking, and your da
mn clipboard. I love that you make a plan for everything and that your contingency plans have contingency plans. From this day forward, I promise I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never pretend with you. I’ll never lie to you. I’ll always love you.”
He might have said more, Natalie couldn’t hear over the sound of her own crying. Damn that man. He could make her ugly–cry harder than anyone she’d ever met. If this was love, it pretty much sucked.
Miranda elbowed her and handed her a tissue. “Clean yourself up, you have to go out there.”
She took the tissue with shaking hands and wiped the tears from her face. “I can’t.” She sniffled into the tissue.
“Do you love him?” Miranda asked.
She closed her eyes and saw Sean’s lazy smile. Heard his warm voice. Felt the strength and gentleness in his touch. “Yes.”
Miranda yanked Natalie out of her chair and shoved her toward the door. “Then get your ass out there before he’s gone.”
Her feet wouldn’t move and everything inside her was a jumbled mess, making her float and sink at the same time. “I’m scared.”
“Of course you are.” Miranda gave her a quick, tight hug. “That’s how you know it really matters.”
Sean glanced at the brewery’s front door. Not even a shadow moved behind it. The rejection hit him like the number–six bus and his brain stopped functioning except to register the throbbing ache in his chest.
“And is she in there?” Rupert nodded toward the brewery, nudging the camera operator so he turned the lens toward the building. “Your Natalie?”
“Yes.” The single word barely made it out through the narrow opening in his constricted throat.
The three men stood there staring at the door like a pack of fools, waiting for a miracle.