But I can’t. Not when she’s looking at me all trusting and pretty, not when I’m so close to being happy, truly happy, for the first time in so long.
I let myself be selfish.
One more night, I promise myself.
She’ll be gone in a week anyway. I’ve been trying for days not to think of it. Not when we wake up and have coffee in bed together, not when I listen to the soft hum of her voice while I work all day, not when we cook together, or laugh together, or sleep together.
But the thought’s lodged in my head now, and I have to know.
“Are you still going to that movie premiere?” I blurt out.
She pauses in the process of ripping a piece of bread in half before slowly placing it back on her plate. To her credit, Jenny looks me right in the eye when she tells me. “Yes.”
I manage to withhold my wince, but there’s nothing to stop the sharp falling feeling in my stomach. I’m not surprised. I don’t blame her. It’s just a very real reminder of what I’ve known all along:
We’re from two different worlds.
The world Jenny lives in is exactly the one I walked away from Yvonne to avoid. Pretense and black tie and posing for cameras.
No, it’s that tenfold.
Jenny’s music is good. It’s exceptional. She’s going to be nominated for Grammy and CMA Awards for a long time to come. Hell, who knows, she could become one of those Hollywood crossovers, and this premiere could be far from her last.
“Okay,” she says, rubbing her palms together nervously. “I want to ask you something. I mean, I was going to get you drunk first, but then I remembered you’re driving. Anyway, there’s no time like the present. But you have to promise not to freak out, and I swear I won’t hold it against you, and—”
“Princess. Spit it out.”
She takes a deep breath. “I want you to come to the movie premiere with me.”
I freeze with the wineglass at my lips. I put the glass down clumsily, the base of it catching on the bread plate; I barely manage to right it in time. “Sorry?”
“It wouldn’t cost you a penny,” she rushes to say. “I could pay for everything. Your plane ticket. Your transportation to the airport. Your transportation from the airport, your tux, your food, everything.”
I can only stare at her. “You can’t be fucking serious.”
Her eyes cloud at my sharp tone. “I know it’s sudden, and weird.”
“Weird doesn’t begin to explain it. I’ve known you for two fucking months.”
She blinks. “Yes, but—”
“No but,” I snap. “Jenny, where exactly did we cross wires? I’ve been telling you since the very beginning that we can’t be a thing.”
“Yes, but that was before—”
My shock is making me mean, but the brief moment of temptation I felt when she asked makes me meaner. I can’t afford to be led by my cock down a path I don’t want. Not again.
“Before what?” I say, leaning forward. “I haven’t even kissed you. Not really.”
Her shoulders jerk a little at that, and I see her swallow. “I know that. Trust me. I know that.”
You’re an ass. You’re a fucking ass.
“Then what did you think? That I’d want to get on a plane, fly across the country, and be your dress-up doll for the evening?”
“Noah, stop. You can just say no—you don’t have to make it ugly.”
She’s right. She’s absolutely right.