Knees hugged to her chest, she stared at me wide-eyed, tears still glistening on her cheeks. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
Confused, I hesitated, but eventually held the key out to her. “I was just going to give you this.” She stared at the key without reaching for it, but I kept it extended. “I’m sorry I upset you. I wasn’t trying to. I just love having you here, and your apartment really is too fucking small for two people to even move around in. If you don’t want to move in with me, that’s okay, but I want you to come and go whenever you please.”
I set the key down on the bed next to her, but stayed kneeling in front of her so I didn’t freak her out again. Her reaction still didn’t make any sense to me. I knew I should probably leave it alone, but I couldn’t. “What did you think I was doing when I knelt down?”
A blush flooded her already red, puffy face. “I thought you were going to try to propose or something crazy like that, and I freaked out.”
“Oh,” I said, the hurt and hint of anger bleeding through regardless of my efforts to stop it. I stood. “Good to know your thoughts on that.”
Turning away from her, I stalked to the door. I tried to tell myself she had her reasons for finding that possibility so distasteful and it didn’t have nearly as much to do with me as it did her past, but it wasn’t working very well. I pushed through the door and went straight for the kitchen. I needed another beer. Maybe more than one.
I was halfway through the first one when her trembling voice said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Unable to turn and face her, my hand clenched on the bottle. “I’m not sure how it could have meant anything different. It’s fine, though. I get it. That’s not what you want.”
“But it is,” she whispered.
Closing my eyes, I exhaled slowly. “Not with me. Fine.”
I flinched when she touched my arm, but didn’t turn around. Letting her see the hurt she was causing me wasn’t an option. It would make her feel worse and make me look like a fucking pussy. We’d been together a few weeks. What gave me the right to think it would be more than amazing sex and a few weeks or months of companionship? She didn’t owe me anything.
“Donovan, please,” Reagan begged. “I do want that with you. I want everything with you. Living together, marriage, kids, all of it. I’m just so scared. I need more time.”
Setting the half-empty bottle down on the counter slowly, I considered my words. “You jumped away from me like a snake that was about to strike.”
“It was like you had read my thoughts, and I freaked out, nothing more. It wasn’t you.”
“Your thoughts?” I asked as I forced myself to turn and face her. “You were thinking about…me proposing?”
Hugging her arms around her body as tightly as she could, she nodded. “Not like I was expecting it, but letting my fears take over. You’d just asked me to move in with you, Donovan, after a few weeks. I love being with you so often, and I want to wake up with you every morning, but I don’t know if I’m ready for something so serious. If you wanted to move in together so fast, how long would it take for you to push things a little more? How would I ever be ready for something like that? I have no clue about marriage. I was raised by a single dad who all but broke out in hives at the idea of discussing romantic feelings, I screwed up every college relationship I had, and have barely dated at all in the last five years. What if I’m not meant for that kind of life?”
My anger softened with every word she spoke. Compassion replaced hurt as I reached out and pulled her into my arms. “Our relationship has nothing to do with any of that. You think I haven’t made mistakes too? Of course I have. Yes, I have my parents as an example, but you have your dad. Just because he wasn’t married doesn’t mean he didn’t teach you how to love someone else and be a good partner. And fucking David screwed up your relationship with him by being a bastard, not you. You are an amazing person and deserve to be happy like your dad said.”
Reagan pulled in more closely, huddling against my chest. “You do make me happy, even if you drive me insane sometimes.”
“You make me happy too.”
“Thank you for the key,” she said, squeezing it with her fist.
I hadn’t even realized she was holding it. The fact that she’d picked it up and not left it lying on the bed eased away the tension left in my body. “Your welcome.”
Regan pulled back a little, and looked up at me. “Did you see Brandon’s comment?” she asked. When I nodded, a sympathetic expression turned her lips pouty. “Have you really been miserable this week? I didn’t mean to...it just would have been weird…with your parents here…”
“Have I missed fucking you every night?” I asked, grinning at her now. “Yes, of course. Did I love having you here to get to know them? Even more so, yes. They loved you.”
She smiled. “I loved them, too.” Her smile faltered for half a second before turning into determination. “I love you, too.”
I froze. “You do?”
Reagan nodded, her lips pressed together to keep from saying anything else.
“Are you going to freak out if I tell you I love you?”
A small nervous laugh bubbled out of her. “No.”
“Good, because I love you.” I followed that up with kiss that made her body go limp against mine.
“I have to get ready for Brandon’s show,” she whispered as she continued to kiss me. “Can we continue this later?”
Groaning, I crushed her up against me. “Can’t you spare ten minutes?”
“Ten minutes?” Reagan laughed. “The man of my dreams just told me he loved me and you think I’m going to settle for a quickie?” She shook her head. “After the show, then you can show me you love me the right way, for as long as you want. Deal?”
I kissed her again, my tongue caressing every inch of her mouth as she moaned in pleasure. When I backed off and let go of her, she reached for the counter to steady herself and I grinned. “Deal.”
***
It was torture putting him off until after the show. I hoped Brandon wouldn’t be offended if we didn’t stay the entire three hours the opening was scheduled to run. There was little doubt in my mind I would not last that long. It caused me equal amounts of pain and excitement when I remembered the hurt in Donovan’s expression when he’d thought I would never say yes to a marriage proposal. It meant he had considered it, didn’t it? That scared me a lot less as we walked into the gallery than it had earlier that day.
“Beautiful, you’re here,” Brandon crooned as he swept me up into a hug as soon as we walked in, and then proceeded to plant a kiss full on my mouth. When he pulled back, he was grinning.
Donovan just shook his head. “Do it again and I will slug you.” Despite his threat, he reached out and shook his friend’s hand. “Congrats man. This is a great turn out.”
It really was. The gallery was packed. People milled about, taking in every stunning photo, discussing and complimenting as they went. I tried to stay focused on the people, not searching the walls for my pictures. Before I could do anything to stop him, Brandon had my hand and was dragging me through the gallery. I had to apologize to more than one patron as I bumped into them. Donovan followed at a more sedate pace, shaking his head.
I was dragged through a doorway and into a new room I hadn’t even realized was there when we walked in. That was when Brandon let go of me and I stopped moving entirely. My photos took up the entire space. Five, four-foot-tall photographs…of me…captured the attention of everyone in the room. “Oh my god, those are huge,” I whispered.
Brandon laughed next to me, enjoying my reaction. Donovan was too busy staring at the photos in awe to say anything at all.
“Why did you have to make them so big?” I complained. They really did look amazing but, good God, you could see every little detail. I didn’t even know I had a mole at the center of my back.
“Why?” Brandon asked, his serious tone drawing my gaze back to him.
“Because you needed to see your own beauty, your own worth, and you are the kind of girl who needs something big to shake her from what she thinks she knows.” His gaze shifted to Donovan, who was still enraptured by the photos, before turning back to me with a knowing grin. “I’m not the only one who figured that out, but I am less of a buffoon about making my point.”
“What?” Donovan asked, still distracted.
Brandon shook his head. “It’s a good thing for you I’m gay.”
Not understanding, Donovan shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’m still trying to process the idea of random people having pictures of my girlfriend on their walls. As proud as I am of her, and you I suppose, it’s a fucking head trip.”
“Strangers had pictures of Keira on their walls, too,” Brandon pointed out.
“Sure, but she was a professional model, and had been long before I knew her. This…is different.”
“I had yours printed, too.”
“My…” Donovan’s eyes widened, hunger replacing the conflict in his eyes. “The picture you gave me? You had it printed?”
“And framed.” He grinned at his friend. “It should be delivered to your apartment this weekend. Where you’ll hang it…” Brandon shrugged, still grinning like an idiot.
Parking a hand on my hip, I cut off the fanciful thoughts I could tell were running through my boyfriend’s mind. “We are not hanging that anywhere people might actually see it! I’m almost completely naked in it!”
“Oh,” Brandon said, “so you decided to move in with Donovan?”
“What? No, I mean, well…”
He held up his hands. “Well, if you didn’t agree, then it’s still his apartment and he can hang it wherever he wants.” He threw Donovan a wink before laughing and excusing himself to hobnob with someone whose dress said they made a lot more money than I did.
“Please tell me you didn’t put him up to that,” I said as I turned to face Donovan.
Chuckling, he pulled me into his arms. “No, but I’m willing to hang the portrait in the bedroom if you agree to never let my mom help you pick out a dress again.”
I stepped away from him, glancing down at what I was wearing in confusion. Dorothy and I had taken Emily’s suggestions on which shops to check out and found the strapless black dress at the second store we’d checked. It hugged every curve I had and made me feel amazing. Glancing back up at Donovan, I asked, “What’s wrong with the dress?”
“Nothing,” he said with a laugh. “You look so fucking sexy in it, it’s creeping me out a little that she had a hand in choosing it. Why would my mom help you pick out a dress like that?”
Scoffing, I said, “Probably because she’s hoping it’ll help produce a grandchild.”
I’d expected him to laugh. Instead, his expression grew more serious. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About kids?”
Caught off guard by this moment of truth, I took in a deep breath and nodded. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”
Donovan nodded slowly. That was it.
Anxiety made me shift unnecessarily. “Is that something you…want?”
His gaze met mine and a slow smile spread across his lips.
Before he could say something to accompany that delicious smile, I spotted Marie walking past the entry to the room we were in and tensed. “I’ll be right back,” I said before darting after her. I knew it was horrible of me to run off like that, but I needed to confront her before she could escape. Without having her personal number, I hadn’t been able to call her. Asking Donovan for her cell number was out of the question, as he’d want to know why I needed it. Her admin assistant refused to put me in contact with her while she was gone unless it was an emergency, and Marie hadn’t responded to a vague email saying we needed to talk, either.
“Marie,” I said a little too loudly to blend in with the muted conversations going on around us.
She turned, annoyed at the interruption. Something in my expression must have said I had a good reason, one she wasn’t going to be happy about, because she straightened and waited for me to come to her without a word.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“This is hardly the time…”
Done with her games, I grabbed her wrist and started walking. The move seemed to shock her enough that she didn’t immediately try to stop me. Heads turned after only a few steps and she stepped up even with me to avoid the situation looking like exactly what it was, and more like two friends stepping outside to chat. I didn’t have to look over at her to know she was pissed, but so was I.
The slightly chilly evening air did nothing to cool the tension between us as we exited the gallery and moved to the side of the main door. Marie forced her jaw to relax, though her eyes remained icy as hell. “You better have a damn good reason for embarrassing me like that.”
“You knew about the threats against Donovan, didn’t you?” I demanded. “You asked me to help you convince him to start shooting again when you knew that bastard Keeling had threatened to come after him and whoever he got involved with!”
“That was five years ago,” she snapped. “Five fucking years ago he got that letter. It came two weeks after Keira died, and then nothing! Not a word since! Nothing to prove it was a legitimate threat. He was just trying to scare him and mess with his head!”
Shaking my head at her, I was on the verge of losing my temper completely. “Donovan hasn’t touched a camera since he got the threat! Why would Keeling need to keep threatening him if Donovan is doing as he asked? Have you ever thought of that? Did you even consider that this psycho might have meant it? You have to know what it would do to Donovan if he started shooting again and something happened. It would destroy him!”
Eyes blazing with fury, Marie stiffened. “Is that the real reason you’re so upset? You think you’ll be the one to pull him out of his misery and then take the punishment? You’re afraid for your own life?” She rolled her eyes angrily. “Don’t give yourself so much credit. You want to bitch to me about what’s best for him? You’ve know him all of five minutes! You weren’t the one who had to drag him back to work, force him to keep living and not give up on everything he’d built, on his entire life. You weren’t the one who had to find a way to keep him at the magazine when he refused to pick up a camera. I called in every favor I had to get him another position, to give him something to do so he didn’t slip into oblivion like he wanted to. You weren’t the one who had to watch him lose everything that meant something to him.”
Marie shoved a sharp fingernail against my chest as tears welled in her eyes. “You think he blames himself for Keira’s death now? This is a million times better than he was in the months after she died. He was suicidal, Reagan. Did he tell you that? Did he tell you how close he came to taking his life when he was consumed with guilt for igniting that fucking psychopath’s delusions and not being able to stop him that night?”
“No,” I whispered, shocked to my core by what she was telling me.
“Of course he didn’t,” she barked. “He thinks he’s all better now. He pretends he is, anyway, but you didn’t know him before she died. You’ve never seen how alive and happy he was back then. Yes, you’ve given some of that back to him, but photography was everything to him. It’s eating away at him, breaking him down, and for what? For one letter some unstable asshole sent him before disappearing?”
“But what if it’s real?” I argued. “The police never found him.”
“Maybe they never will. Maybe he’s dead or crazy because he couldn’t face reality after killing his obsession. I have no idea, but can you really stand by and watch that murdering lunatic control Donovan’s life?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know, but how is that your decision to make? Or mine?”
“Because he won’t!”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Marie argued. “I knew when he told me no to contributing to the fundraiser. His fear won’t let him move on. Taking
a selfie for Facebook isn’t moving on, Reagan. Even your little project isn’t enough. He needs to face what’s torturing him. He needs to be in a studio again, even if only for his own personal endeavors. Even if it’s only you he ever shoots. He needs this, and he won’t get there without something drastic pushing him to it.”
Frustrated to the limit at her absolute surety on this, I shook my head, refusing to agree. “You’re wrong. You don’t see how much he’s already changed. You’re doing exactly what you criticize him for, deciding how things should be or are and refusing to consider anything else. He’ll get there, Marie. On his own. His decision. His choice to face what scares him. Maybe I’m helping him get there, but it has to be on his terms.”
“You’re naïve if you think that.”
I scoffed. “If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s naïve.” I was dying to prove she didn’t know Donovan as well as she thought, but I didn’t know how. She was the one who wasn’t seeing things clearly. Where did that leave me, though?
“Rudolph needs the image file three weeks from tomorrow,” Marie said as she shook out her hair and straightened her dress. “If you think you can ease Donovan into facing his fears, you’re more than welcome to try. If you fail, I’ll do what it takes. I’m done watching someone I care about live half a life. You can either help me, or be the one holding him back.”
She left me standing there with those words echoing in my mind. Completely composed and ready to mingle, she sauntered back into the gallery without a backward glance. I didn’t know what to do. How Marie planned to do what it takes was beyond me. She couldn’t exactly force him to take a picture and then steal the file. Could she? What if she did, and she was right? What if Donovan realized I’d stood back and refused to help in what might be exactly what he needed?
I shook my head. That was insane. He wouldn’t be angry with me for not helping Marie bullying him into something he’d expressly told her he didn’t want to do. Unless it worked…. I had no idea anymore. The only way to stop her from potentially ripping him apart was to do it myself. Even though I had no clue how she’d get an original photograph from Donovan on her own, I believed her when she said she would find a way. I was also sure it would not go the way she was hoping it would.
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