It seemed I was a sucker for punishment.
“I should have known you lived here by the perfectly manicured lawn and flower beds. That wisteria is gorgeous.” She sounded strange. Nervous? Nah, that made no sense. Whitney had no reason to be nervous around me. I was a nonentity in her world. She had always made that perfectly clear.
“Yeah, well, having an unkempt yard wouldn’t be a very good advertisement for my business, would it?” I sounded cold. I couldn’t help it. Call it a defense mechanism.
“Oh, well, of course …” Whitney’s voice trailed away, and she seemed to be struggling to find something to do with her hands. We looked at anything but each other. History aching and straining between us.
“So why up so early?” I asked. And even though it was weird between us, I found that I didn’t want her to leave. Which was always my problem when it came to her. I made decisions based on feelings rather than facts. I ignored better judgment just so I could look at her a little while longer.
Whitney shrugged, a dismissive gesture. “I can’t sleep more than four or five hours a night. It’s this or lay there staring at the ceiling.”
I found myself looking at her closely. She did look tired. “Why can’t you sleep?”
Whitney looked at me, our eyes meeting, making my chest feel tight. “Sometimes it’s hard to stop thinking about things and what could have been different if—” She stopped herself abruptly, dropping her eyes. “Anyway, at least I’m getting my exercise. Sitting behind a desk all day will give me a fat ass.” Her laughter was hollow.
“There’s nothing wrong with your ass,” I said before I could think better of it. Jesus, I was an idiot. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I should probably get back in there. Katie will be up soon.”
Whitney nodded, her head bobbing a little too vigorously. “Of course. I have to get back to my run anyway.”
I got to my feet. “Okay then—”
“It was really nice seeing you, Kyle.” Her voice was warm and rich. I had always loved the way she said my name. Never Webber or Web like everyone else. Even Josie had always called me Web, never by my actual name.
There were only three people in my life that called me Kyle. My mom and dad. And Whitney Galloway.
“You too,” I said, not sure if I meant it. Seeing her was confusing. It reminded me too much of the stupid boy I had been. Of the dumbass I could so easily become again if I let the simmering feelings I would always feel for her take hold.
What was it about Whitney, and why could I never let her go?
Before either of us could say another word, I went back inside. I pretended not to notice how she stood there staring after me.
Chapter 4
Whitney
“I can’t believe you won’t even think about coming back! We need you out here, Whit,” Guisselle Montgomery complained in my ear.
I had been debating whether or not to answer the phone when I saw her name on the screen. Guisselle and I were roommates for the last five years. We were both makeup artists, which was how we met. I hadn’t been particularly enamored of her at first. It had been the early days on set of a big Hollywood blockbuster, and Guisselle had obvious seniority, and she let everyone know it. She had a big head, and as I came to find out later—a heart that she opened to a select few. And when you were chosen, you felt as if you had won the lottery.
During those first prickly few weeks where everyone on set jockeyed for position in the hierarchy, I sat back and waited. I worked and stayed out of the drama, and it paid off. Once Guisselle realized I wasn’t a threat to her and her status, she took me under her wing, introducing me to her contacts, helping me find work, and eventually asking me if I’d like to room with her after my landlord informed me she was selling the building where I was living.
I could never tell Guis how much I appreciated her friendship; she hated all that touchy-feely crap, so I did the only thing I could—take her phone calls and not avoid her like I had everyone else I had associated with in California.
“You don’t need me, Guis. Didn’t you just book the new Star Wars spinoff? I think that’ll keep you busy for a while.” I had gotten back from my run hours ago and was showered and dressed for work ages before I had to be there. I wasn’t surprised when Guisselle called wanting to chat. Like me, the woman never slept.
I picked at my nails, a sure sign of heightening jitters. It was a physical response any time I thought about my old work.