“I don’t know if I’d want to do that,” Erin says thoughtfully. “But I’m not in love with someone who is, either. I guess my outlook might change if I were and if someone were pulling my hair the way he does yours.”
I laugh and have to high-five her.
“You should go talk to Sam,” Stella suggests. “It sounds like she’s taken the brunt of celeb-wife life. Go ask her about it.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” I reply thoughtfully. “I’ll call her tomorrow. If I can get my number replaced. And if I feel like getting out of bed. I was supposed to go to LA with Vaughn tomorrow, but I’m not going. I need a little time away from him to think.”
“We just ate a whole gallon of ice cream between the three of us,” Erin says and flops back on the bed. “We might be comatose for days.”
“I have no regrets,” Stella says as she licks her spoon clean.
“Me, neither,” I agree. “Maybe later, we’ll order pizza for dessert.”
“God, I love living here,” Erin says with a smile. “There’s nothing better than this.”
Chapter 17
~Vaughn~
I haven’t seen her in more than twenty-four hours, and it’s starting to make me twitchy. Jesus, she’s like a drug, and I’m having serious withdrawals.
But I figured when I couldn’t reach her yesterday that she’d turned her phone off to stop the annoying press calls and that maybe she needed a little time to herself. She was angry yesterday, and so was I.
But I plan to make it all up to her. We’re headed to LA today, and we’re going to have a good time with some shopping, good food, and just being together.
I jog up the steps to her front door and press the doorbell. When Stella answers, I smile at her.
“Hey, I’m here for Liv. Is she ready?”
“She’s not going, Vaughn.”
I frown. “What? Of course, she is.”
“She’s not feeling great,” Stella says, and I know it’s a lie. “I think she caught a sniffle or something and is sleeping it off upstairs.”
“Out of my way.”
“Seriously, you should just let her sleep,” Stella says, but I ignore her and climb the steps, taking two at a time before opening the bedroom door.
Liv’s not sleeping. She’s in sweats and a T-shirt and curled up in her chair with a book.
“What’s up, Liv?”
“Oh, hey. Um.” She swallows, pressing her lips together. “I think I’m going to sit this one out. I don’t feel fantastic, and if I’m getting sick, I don’t want to pass it on to you.”
“You’re not sick.” I sit on the side of her bed and fold my hands between my knees so I don’t reach out and yank her to me to tumble us both onto the bed. “We don’t lie to each other, Liv. What’s going on? I know you were mad yesterday, but we can talk about it.”
“And we will,” she says slowly. “We’ll talk about it. But you have to get to LA for appointments, and I’m just not up to it right now.”
She has dark circles under her eyes as if she’s been crying or had a hard time sleeping.
I watch her, willing her to show me some kind of emotion, but her face doesn’t change. She looks cold, and that scares me the most.
“Why does it feel like this is the beginning of you breaking up with me?”
She sighs and rubs her fingertips over her forehead. “I haven’t decided if that’s what I’m doing.”
My head comes back as if she’s just slapped me.
“Wow.”
“We don’t lie,” she says, echoing my earlier words. “I just need a little time, Vaughn. Just one day, even.”
She does cross to me then and cups my face in her hands. I turn and press a kiss to her palm.
“Liv,” I whisper.
“I don’t know what to do,” she says, also in a whisper, and then she’s hugging me so tight, it feels desperate.
It feels like goodbye.
“Don’t do this, baby.”
“Just a little time,” she repeats and pulls back. “We’ll talk when you come back, okay? Have a super-safe trip and take care of what you need to. I’ll see you when you get back to Seattle.”
Her green eyes plead with me not to make it harder than it clearly already is, but every cell in my body screams at me to stay. To make her talk to me, to make her understand how much I love her.
“Okay,” I say with a nod. “You take your time to think, and I’ll be back. That’s all I can do, right?”
She doesn’t say anything as I turn and walk away, moving down the stairs and past Stella, who’s waiting by the door.
“Take care of her,” I say to her.
“I am,” she says.
“If you—or she—needs anything at all, you can call me, day or night. I’ll be gone less than twenty-four hours and then I’ll be back here. And you won’t keep me from her.”