Counting the Kisses (Counting the Billions 3)

And maybe he didn’t. I had been there so often, almost every night lately. Maybe Daniel needed his space. Maybe I should have realized that when he was pissed off, as he was bound to be after the trial, that he wouldn’t want me around. I was stupid for putting myself in that situation. I had to go home. I had to let him know he wasn’t stuck with me every day, not if he didn’t want that.

I just wished I had realized it sooner, before I had overstayed my welcome.

Now, Saturday morning, I was alone in my apartment. It had been a while since I’d even been here, and I had to admit, waking up on my own wasn’t anything that I really wanted. No, it was much nicer to fall asleep stretched out beside Daniel, to wake up in the morning with his arms curled around my body, my head pillowed on his firm torso.

Instead, Saturday morning brought empty, cold sheets and an ache in my gut that nothing would fill. I wanted to go over to Daniel’s, to tell him I was sorry, that I would be more independent from now on, that he didn’t have to feel guilty about kicking me out from time to time.

But then again, that probably wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Kicking me out” implied that I would overstay my welcome again. And guilty? I was the one who should be feeling guilty. I was the one who was single-handedly ruining our relationship, both at work and here at home.

The good thing about the fact that I hadn’t been home in a while was that everything could use a bit of a light clean. I attacked the place, dusting in spots that hadn’t seen the light of day since probably before I had moved in. But I didn’t feel any better by the time I was done.

It didn’t help that Daniel called halfway through my cleaning spree. I debated picking up the call. But the more I thought about it, the more that seemed like a bad idea. I still felt like there were things I needed to sort through from the night before, and I wasn’t going to do that if I just went rushing back to him. Besides, I didn’t want him to think that I was too needy.

He had gotten angry with me. That was the main sticking point to all of it. Beyond the neediness and the guilt, there was the fact that he had been angry at me. I hadn’t expected that. I had never expected that. And I still would never expect Daniel to hit me or otherwise p

hysically hurt me. But at the same time, the physical wasn’t everything in a relationship.

Could I be with someone who got angry like that? Could my emotions handle it? I wasn’t so sure. I hadn’t been sure before, when Daniel punched Gerrard, and now, I felt even less sure, having seen that anger directed toward me, albeit in a muted form.

I scrubbed out the inside of the fridge, trying to pretend that the tears in the corner of my eyes were from the smell of the cleaning agent.

I just couldn’t help feeling foolish. It seemed like somehow, I had pegged Daniel totally wrong. Like I had misunderstood our relationship and what I was to him. Like I had tried to make him into a good guy, the kind of guy he had never been to begin with.

The more the afternoon dragged on, the more certain I made myself that something had been wrong from the start. Daniel had never really been the guy I had thought he was. He had never been the guy I had somehow convinced Matt and Leanne that he was. No, he was just what all the tabloids said he was: angry and rude and given to rash impulses. That was it.

Dating me was probably just an impulse thing. He couldn’t keep his hands off me. I couldn’t expect anything more, when the same was basically just as true for me. It was just an impulse for me to like Daniel like this.

But of course, these were impulses I never should have acted on. There was the difficulty.

Around 3:00 p.m., I got on my computer and started looking up articles about him. Who was this guy I had been dating? If anything, I knew that the articles about the trial were bound to give me clues.

After scrolling through a dozen of the articles, I felt sick to my stomach. Sure enough, Daniel’s name was everywhere. There were hundreds of articles out about the assault charges already, some sticking to the bare facts of the trial and others embellishing their articles with anecdotes about other incidents in Daniel’s past. Another altercation at another bar. Rumors about loud verbal fights in office meetings.

And everywhere, pictures of him. Angry pictures of him.

The worst article by far, though, was the one with the headline: Does Abby James Really Know the Man Behind the Smile?

I swallowed hard, staring at that headline. Did I know the man behind the smile?

The truth was that no matter how many doubts I had about him, I just couldn’t believe I could have been so wrong about him. Hell, I had never had such a problem judging people in the business world. There was no way I could have so misjudged Daniel. If I had even suspected he was capable of anger like these stories said, I would never have let him anywhere near Zach and Layla.

Or myself, really. I had to hope that I could see past the smile and the good looks and know who this man was. I had to hope that this time, I knew how to protect myself. That by now, I knew what kind of threats I needed to protect myself from.

I sighed, putting down my phone and rubbing at my eyes. I wanted to call Daniel back, but I felt more confused now than I had the night before. It wouldn’t be fair to show up at Daniel’s place to tell him all my fears that maybe I had messed up and ended up with the wrong guy all over again. That wouldn’t be fair to him.

Not least of which because I was sure he was still recovering from the trial and the aftermath, angry with the circumstances and not good company for anyone. I should give him some time to calm down and center himself first. I was certain that was the best course of action.

I thought back to that stupid headline. Was I so sure of it? Was I sure that I knew the “man behind the smile”?

The damn media. I couldn’t believe I was even thinking things like that. But having Daniel yell at me had really unsettled something inside of me. I couldn’t think of him as a terrible man, not even close. But he wasn’t the saint I had made him out to be in the rose-colored glasses that I seemed to constantly wear around him.

My phone rang again, and my heart leapt, hoping beyond hope that it was Daniel calling me back again. This time, I would answer it. I didn’t know what I would say to him, but I knew that we needed to chat in person. I needed to hear his side of things. I needed to know what kind of a past this man really had.

I thought I deserved that. I was pretty sure of it, anyway.

But it wasn’t Daniel calling me after all. Instead, it was Leanne. I sighed and took a deep breath, but I knew that this was one call that I couldn’t avoid. Leanne would be too worried if I didn’t answer the call, if not now then at some point today. She’d have read all the coverage on the trial, and she would want to know how we were holding up.

We, because she would no doubt expect me to be there by Daniel’s side.