Brown-Eyed Girl (Travises 4)

I was pretty sure I couldn’t live with that.

In the periphery of my vision, I saw Bethany gesture to Hollis, who joined her on the long sofa at the back of the plane. They whispered together for at least twenty minutes, the discussion becoming increasingly animated, as if the subject were urgent. My guess was that Bethany regretted having told me so much earlier, and she was confessing to her mother. At one point, Hollis looked up and met my gaze directly.

Yes. I had been identified as a potential problem that would have to be addressed.

I returned my gaze to the laptop screen.

Thanks to the time zone change, we arrived at Houston’s Hobby Airport at eleven a.m. “How nice,” I said with a tacked-on smile, sliding my laptop into my carry-on. “Most of the day is still ahead of us.”

Hollis smiled thinly. Bethany didn’t respond.

I thanked the pilot and flight attendant while Bethany and Kolby left the plane. Turning toward the exit, I saw that Hollis was waiting for me.

“Avery,” she said pleasantly, “before we get off the plane, I want to have a little chat.”

“Certainly,” I said, equally pleasant.

“I need to explain something because I’m not sure you fully understand our kind of people. The rules are different at our level. If you have any illusions about Ryan Chase, let me tell you something: He’s no better than any other man. Don’t you realize Ryan’s going to keep some sweet young thing on the side? A man with his looks and money, he’ll go through three or four wives at least. What do you care if Bethany’s one of them?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not being paid to make judgments or interfere with your clients’ personal lives. Your job is to make this wedding happen. And if anything goes wrong… I’ll make sure no one touches your business. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to ruin your chances of being on that TV show. David and I have friends who own media empires. Don’t even think about crossing me.”

My cordial expression didn’t falter for one second of her speech.

“As you said at the beginning of the trip, Hollis, we understand each other.”

After holding my gaze for a moment, she seemed to relax. “I told Bethany you wouldn’t be a problem. A woman in your situation can’t afford to act against your own interests.”

“My situation?” I echoed, puzzled.

“Working.”

Only Hollis Warner could have made that sound like a dirty word.

I deliberately took a roundabout route on the way home from Hobby, so I would have the time I needed. I always did my best thinking in the car, especially on longer drives. Somehow the tortured maze of thoughts at forty thousand feet became miraculously untangled as soon as I set foot on the ground.

There was no denying the importance – the necessity – of having a fulfilling career. But a job was never the most important thing. People were.

The fact was, I already had a career I loved. I had built it from scratch with my sister, and it was all ours, and I was in control of it, and we were damned successful. We could create our own opportunities.

Talking with Trevor Stearns’s producers had given me a fleeting taste of what it would be like to be managed and supervised and have everything laid out for me. A fluffy white Pomeranian?… No thanks. I was just fine with my toothless Chihuahua, who, although not pretty, was at least not a stage prop.

I realized I had been so swept away by the idea of getting the big break I had always dreamed of, and returning to New York in triumph, that I hadn’t paused to consider whether that was still what I wanted.

Sometimes dreams changed when you weren’t looking.

The things I’d accomplished and learned, and even lost, had all helped me to look at the world in a different way. But most of all, I had changed because of the people I had chosen to care about. It was as if my heart had been unwrapped and could feel everything more deeply. As if…

“My God,” I said aloud, swallowing hard as I realized what the Chanel bag metaphor was.

My heart was the carefully protected object on the shelf. I had tried to keep it safe from damage, tried to use it only when necessary.

But some things became more beautiful with frequent use. The nicks and scuffs and cracks, the places that had been worn smooth, the areas that had been broken and repaired… all of that meant that an object had served its purpose. What good was a heart that had been grudgingly used? What value did it have if you’d never risked it on anyone? Trying not to feel had never been the right answer to my problems, it was the problem.

Happiness and fear were pressed together inside me, a double-sided coin that kept spinning. I wanted to go to Joe right then and make sure I hadn’t lost him. I wanted things it was probably better not to think about at the moment.

That life he’d described… God help me, I wanted it. All of it, including children. Until this moment, I’d always been too scared to admit that, even to myself. I’d been too encumbered by the fear of turning out like my father.

Except that I wouldn’t.

Unlike Eli, I was good at loving people. It was the first time I’d ever realized that.

I had to take off my sunglasses as the bottom rims became slick with tears.

Right now, I had to take care of a couple of urgent matters. Later I would go to Joe when I could find enough time and privacy. His feelings, and mine, were too important to fit in between errands.

I pulled into the drive-through at a Whataburger. Waiting in line to order a Diet Dr Pepper, I fished my phone out of my purse and dialed a number.