I took a deep breath and pulled her in closer. “Can you please start making sense? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She sighed and nestled in closer to me. “James, I love you. I do.” She looked up at me, her face honest and afraid.
“I love you, too,” I said. It felt so good to say it out loud. Joy surged through me, and I hugged her to me. Audrey’s eyes were still shining with tears, but these looked happier. I leaned down and kissed her, my feelings for her overpowering and fierce.
But she pulled back. “What?” I asked. “Why are you pulling away from me?”
“I don’t want you to love me.”
“Why the f**k not?” I asked hotly.
“Because I’m not good for you, James. I can’t be with you like that.”
“Of course you can.”
She shook her head. “I’m an escort, James. That’s a fancy word for hooker, in case you didn’t know.”
“I know exactly who you are. I couldn’t care less what you’ve done.”
“Well, good for you,” she said, moving a little farther away from me. She dried her eyes. “Your family would have a very different opinion, I’m guessing.”
“Good for them. They can call me to complain about it. Trust me, I won’t answer. They can have a hell of a time expressing their dissent to my voicemail, which I never check.”
She sighed, sounding frustrated. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“And you have?” I asked, challenging her.
“I have,” she said, looking at me levelly. “And no matter how many different ways I picture it, this doesn’t work out.”
“Then you’re a pessimist,” I said. I pulled her back to me.
“James… really. What about your parents?”
“I’ll deal with them,” I said. “We don’t owe them any further explanation—about your mother, or your background, or anything else right now. It’s not their business. And we’re not ready to tell them anything. We might never tell them.”
“Babe,” she said, a hopeless look on her face. “I didn’t tell you what your mother said to me. And she said it when she thought I was a legitimate, above-board art student. Not an escort.”
I waited, my temples beginning to pound again. “What,” I said, not bothering to make it a question.
“She told me she wants us to break up after the honeymoon. She said that your children are going to have an incredible amount of money and society responsibility, and that they need parents who can help them with that.”
The pounding in my head got worse. “And she said you’re not capable of that.”
“She didn’t say that.” Audrey shrugged against me. “She didn’t have to. I’m not capable.”
“First of all, that’s not true. You’re perfectly capable. Second of all, I don’t care what my mother thinks. I never have.”
Audrey looked up at me. “I don’t believe that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I think you understand what your mother is saying, even if you don’t want to. And I feel exactly the same way,” she said. “Your children are going to be some of the richest kids in the country. You need someone who can help them—with private schools, charity drives, organic foods, stuff I can’t even begin to imagine. That’s not me.”
“You can learn all that stuff,” I said.
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here,” she said. “The point is, your mother says I’m fine for right now. After that, I need to be gone. And she doesn’t even know what I really am.” She looked up at me miserably. “She offered to pay me off, James. After this trip. I would never take it, but I just thought you should know.”
“She’s going to pay, all right,” I said, mostly to myself. I was quiet for a minute, running it all through my mind. “Audrey. Do you want to take the money and just go?”
“Of course not,” she said. “But I think she’s right—I don’t think I’m good for you. I don’t even know what you want from me.”
“All I want,” I said, pulling her to me, “is you.”
“Don’t say things like that,” she said, her eyes filling with tears even as she settled against me. “Don’t. I’m the cowboy. You’re the bed. This is gonna end badly.” She blew her nose again.
“Audrey,” I said. “Please stop talking. And sniffling. You’re the cowboy, remember? Cowboys don’t sniffle.”