by Steph Nuss
After the words left my mouth, I knew he nodded just to agree with me, that I hadn’t actually silenced his fears. They were too loud, too fresh still for me to shut down. But at least now he knew that I loved him, so if anything ever did happen, we’d manage it together as a team.
I just prayed my words held true, that no harm would ever come from the media or his fans ever again.
Chapter Twelve
The last week of Maverick’s workouts finally arrived. Filming started next Monday, so Maverick had taken this week to really push me past my limit. He’d participated in the workouts with me, challenging me to go harder and get stronger with every minute that passed. Now, sweat seeped from every pore in my body as we worked through our cool down stretches. His black hair was pushed back with a sweatband and he appeared just as worn out as I felt.
“Last week of community service,” he stated, nodding at me. “Are you excited?”
I shrugged. Was I excited to put my stupid mistake behind me? Yes. Was I ready to leave behind the patients I enjoyed spending time with? No, absolutely not. “Yes and no. I’m glad my hours will be served, but it will suck not seeing the patients as often. I told Whitley I’d still come by on my days off from filming and volunteer. I’m also going to keep volunteering at the shelter with her and Zane every Friday.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you found her. You guys seemed happy together the other night at the club. How’d she handle the paparazzi and stuff?”
“Good,” I said, nodding. “There was a moment when we first arrived at the club where she squeezed my hand so hard I thought she might break it, but besides that, she handled it all pretty well.”
He laughed. “That’s good.”
We switched stretches and moved on to our quads. “I’m the one who’s freaked out about it more than she is. I just … I can’t handle another assault like Harper’s. If that happened to Whitley, or even Zane, it would kill me.”
“That was a fluke,” he started, lying back on the mat. “That fan was mentally unstable, and the tabloids only fueled her insanity. You shouldn’t have anything to worry about now. You’re in a serious relationship. Most of your fans are happy for you. Have you seen any negative posts about Whitley?”
“Not really,” I answered. “But I’ve tried to stay away from social media. It helps that Whitley doesn’t have any networking accounts anywhere. I hired a computer whiz to stay on top of all the negative posts. Any threats of any kind or any negative posts, she takes them down and alerts my security team.”
“Shit,” he said, shaking his head. “You aren’t messing around.”
“No, I’m not,” I said seriously. “No one else is getting hurt.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”
I threw my left leg over the right side of my body and stretched out my back. “Was it difficult for you when you started dating Harper, to adjust to her lifestyle and everything?”
“Not really,” he replied, bringing his knee up to his chest. “Things started off fast with us, and it was a little unnerving at first, having my picture taken or being followed by paparazzi. I really wasn’t used to any that, but she was, so I just kind of learned from her on how to handle it. And it’s been worth it. All of it’s worth it for her. Harper’s given me everything I never knew I was missing in my life.”
Good. As Harper’s oldest friend, I was happy to hear that.
We finished our last set of stretches in comfortable silence. Because of Harper’s meddling, Maverick had gone from my trainer to someone I could honestly call my friend. His relationship with Harper was the perfect example of what I wanted with Whitley, but I had to remind myself that the world demanded more of me than it did Harper. Harper designed clothes under an alias, which enabled her to keep a lower profile. Her talent was displayed in the clothes people wore, while mine was on the big screen for all to see, eliciting a lot more attention than hers.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Maverick asked.
“How much easier my life would be if I wasn’t an actor.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Maverick laughed and then sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “No, in all seriousness, man, Whitley’s a strong woman. The more I get to know her, the more I believe she’s capable of handling whatever life throws at her. She’s not with you to become famous or take advantage of your money, and that’s something to be happy about. Take pride in knowing that you’ve found a good woman.”
“I do,” I said, smiling weakly. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He smacked me on the chest and then stood up. “Then don’t fuck it up, my friend.”
“God, I don’t plan on it.” I stood and followed him over to the bench where our bags sat. “She stayed home sick from work today, so I’m going to stop by her place after I shower. Maybe cook her something that sounds good to her and keep Zane entertained so she can rest.”
“What’s she got?” Maverick asked. “I heard on the news that this heat has really been getting to people.”
I shook my head as I scanned my phone for any new messages from her. “I’m not sure. I texted her earlier, and she never responded.”
“Well, whatever it is, I hope she’s feeling better soon.”
“Thanks. Me too,” I said, heading toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Later.”
***
“Where’re we heading, boss?” Manny asked as I climbed into the backseat of the SUV.
“Let me call Whitley real quick,” I said, pressing the phone to my ear.
In the underground parking lot of Jones Jym, I sat in my truck and called Whitley’s cell before telling Manny where to take me. I hadn’t heard from her all day. Sophie had told me she’d called in sick this morning, so I’d texted her and never heard back from her. If she wasn’t feeling well, I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed before I came over. I could stop and get medicine or bring over some dinner. Whatever she wanted, I’d get it.
The phone rang and rang, and just when I thought it was going to her voicemail, Zane picked up.
“Hey, Max!”
“Hey, buddy. How’s your mom doing?” I asked, gazing out the window.
“She’s okay,” he offered, uncertainty evident in his tone. “She’s been in her room most of the day.”
“Oh,” I said, brows furrowed. “Do you know why she’s not feeling well?”
He sighed and then answered. “It’s her woman thing. Every month she gets it. I don’t really know what it is, but I’ve just learned not to bug her about it.”
I stifled a laugh at his young, boyish observation of the female body. “Okay, well, I thought about bringing over some dinner and maybe seeing how she was doing. Do you know if there’s anything she particularly likes to eat when she’s going through her … woman thing?”
“She likes ice cream,” he said and then hummed, pondering the question further. “And maybe some pizza? I haven’t eaten yet, but I usually just have a bowl of cereal when she has the cramps. Pizza would definitely be better than cereal.”
The cramps.
I snickered quietly to myself. “Okay, I’ll bring over a pizza and some ice cream. What kind of pizza do you like, and what kind of ice cream does your mom like?”
Man, I should know these things about her already.
“Meat lovers!” he cheered. “And she likes pistachio ice cream.”
Pistachio, I thought with a cringe. The only women I knew who liked pistachio ice cream were either not on their periods or elderly.
“Pistachio?” I commented incredulously. “That’s your mom’s favorite ice cream?”
He groaned and then stated, “Fine. She likes the monster cookie one, but we’re out of the pistachio kind I like, too.”
I laughed. His ignorance to the amount of money sitting in my bank account humored me. “I can bring both. Does your mom like a different kind of pizza?”
“She likes the ta
co one, but it sucks as leftovers, so if you get it, get a small one just for her.”
“All right. I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay! See ya!”
I waited for him to end the call, and then I immediately instructed Manny to take me to a supermarket near Whitley’s place before I called in our pizza order. He navigated the streets of the city, and I relaxed back into my seat, smiling, knowing Whitley was okay.
“The cramps,” I muttered aloud, laughing harder as I replayed my conversation with Zane in my head.
Whitley would die once she heard about it.
And I couldn’t wait to tell her.
***
Zane buzzed with excitement the minute I walked through the door carrying two boxes of pizza and a sack from the grocery store. He quickly took the bag and put the ice cream away in the freezer while I placed the pizzas on the kitchen island. Part of me expected to walk in and find the coffee table buried under a pile of pop cans and candy wrappers and a bunch of other snacks—young boys left unsupervised usually resulted in a lot of food consumption. But not in Whitley’s house. The Mets game was on in the living room and the Gatorade Zane had been drinking sat next to the chair on the end table. There wasn’t a wrapper in sight, so if he’d snacked, he’d hid the evidence well by cleaning up after himself.
“Can we use paper plates?” he asked, opening a cabinet of paper products. “I don’t want to do dishes tonight.”
I also enjoyed how Whitley made him help out around the house, even making him fend for himself when she wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t solely rely on her to feed him and remind him to do his chores. He just did them because he understood responsibility and respected his mom.
He’s a damn good kid.
“Sure,” I said, running my hand through his dirty blond hair. “I’m going to go back and check on your mom.”
“Good luck,” he muttered under his breath. “She snapped at me this morning for having the TV too loud.”
I’ll take my chances, I thought, exiting the kitchen.
I made my way down to her closed door at the end of the hall, and then hesitantly reached for the doorknob. Putting my ear up against the door, I listened and the sounds of a movie playing filtered through the wood. I couldn’t make out what movie she was watching, but I went ahead and knocked lightly on her door and then turned the knob and let myself in.
Buried beneath layers of soft purple bedding was the woman I loved. Her hair looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush, and she was still in the t-shirt and shorts that she had worn to bed. No bra, no makeup. She was beautiful in her natural state, even though I knew she probably didn’t feel that way. Her head rolled to the side as light from the hallway peeked in, and she immediately cringed and covered her face with her hands when she saw it was me instead of Zane.
“What are you doing here?” she groaned.
I closed the door behind me and kicked my shoes off before crawling onto the bed with her. Leaning against one of the five pillows she had propped up against the headboard, I stretched my legs out in front of me and smiled at her as I removed her hands from her face. “You never texted me back, so when I called after my workout, Zane picked up and told me why you stayed home today.”
“Oh, God,” she muttered, glancing up at me nervously. “Do I even want to know what he said, or will it just embarrass me even more?”
I smirked. “At first, he called it your woman thing, and then he referred to it as the cramps.”
“Agh!” she grumbled louder. “I swear, when he starts dating I’m making copies of all his naked baby pictures and handing them out to his girlfriends like candy on Halloween.”
Laughing, I brushed a strand of hair off her face and then pressed my lips to her temple. “Why didn’t you just tell me why you weren’t feeling good?”
“You really want to know?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes, I can handle listening to you talk about your period,” I stated, nudging her with my arm. “I’m an adult, a man who had foster sisters and a mother who dealt with the same thing while he was growing up.”
She ran her fingers along the seam on the comforter. “Women everywhere experience this once a month, I shouldn’t have to stay home from work because of it. I hate how bad my cramps get because it didn’t used to be like this. After I had Zane, my body totally changed, and now it’s this awful thing I dread every month because the pain kills me. It’s not as bad as labor pains, but it’s a close runner-up. My doctor ruled out any defects or reproductive conditions, and I’ve tried different birth controls but that didn’t help either. So, it’s just something I have to live with unfortunately.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, weaving my fingers through hers. “I had a foster sister who basically slept on the bathroom floor because the pain made her throw up.”
She nodded. “I’ve only thrown up once from the pain and that was the first month after Zane was born. Most of the time, I just want to lay in the fetal position and die. Motrin helps a little bit though.”
“I heard ice cream usually helps, too,” I said, shooting her a wink.
“You brought me ice cream?” she asked, perking up.
My smile widened. “I did. Would you like some?”
“Only if it’s not that pistachio crap,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If I know Zane, he lied and told you that was my favorite because it’s his.”
“Ah, he did, but I got the truth out of him,” I stated proudly. “I brought two quarts of monster cookie just for you.”
She relaxed further back into her pillows and her smile spread so wide that her eyes even twinkled. “I freakin’ love you, Maxton Waters.”
I laughed and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. “I love you, too.”
She squeezed my hand and then turned her attention to the TV as singing ensued in the movie. I looked up and watched Heath Ledger, in the stands of a high school football stadium, serenade Julia Stiles’ character with the help of the marching band.
“10 Things I Hate About You?” I asked, gazing back at Whitley. “A modern day version of The Taming of the Shrew.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Of course I’ve seen it,” I stated, pointing at the screen. “I’ve watched all of Heath Ledger’s movies. May he rest in peace.”
“This is the best part of the whole movie,” she swooned.
“Um, no, it’s not,” I argued. “Julia Stiles’ monologue in the scene where she reads her poem is the best part.”
She playfully smacked my arm and laughed. “Whatever. Would you ever serenade me with a marching band, and if so, what song would you sing?”
“I just serenaded your period with ice cream,” I quipped. “What more do you want?”
She laughed louder this time. “Good point, but humor me.”
“Fine,” I said, mentally flipping through my catalog of love songs. There were too many to choose from, but eventually I thought of a good one. I knew all the lyrics to it, so it would be easy to sing if the time ever came where I needed to serenade her with more than just dairy products. “If I had to pick a song, it would be Edwin McCain’s ‘I Could Not Ask For More.’”
“Ooh,” she audibly cooed. “That’s a really good one! I’d love to hear you sing.”
I deadpanned, “I’m going to go get the ice cream.”
“Okay,” she retorted with a smile. “What’s Zane up to out there?”
“He’s eating and watching the Mets,” I said, sliding off the bed. I leaned over her and studied her incredible eyes as my thumb caressed her cheek. She already looked ten times happier than when I first walked into her room, and she hadn’t even had a bite of monster cookie yet. “I also brought pizza over for dinner. I got a taco just for you.”
“Really?” she asked in disbelief. She latched onto my arm with one hand and cupped my chin with the other. “You’re the best.”
“A couple slices of pizza and the carton of ice cream?” I asked, enticing
her further. “Maybe another bottled water?”
She nodded eagerly and pressed her lips against mine. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I left her to swoon over Heath Ledger and found Zane in the living room polishing off another slice of pizza. The kid had already eaten three out of the large meat lovers I’d ordered.
“Did I hear Mom laugh?” he asked, his voice sarcastic.
“Yes, you did.” I plated two slices of taco pizza, and then grabbed a spoon, the monster cookie carton, and bottled water. “I’m getting more goodies to keep her happy.”
He lifted his pizza up in the air at me and laughed. “Whatever it takes!”
Hands full, I entered Whitley’s room once again and set the ice cream and water down on the nightstand next to her bed. I gave her the plate of pizza and then sat on the edge and watched her eat.
“This tastes so good,” she murmured, taking another bite. “I haven’t had anything all day except ibuprofen.”
“I’m glad I could help,” I said, caressing her leg through the blankets. “How was the rest of your day, besides wanting to die?”
She smiled over the slice of pizza and shrugged. “It was okay. I got a call around noon about working for a nurse who needs off this coming Saturday, but I don’t know if I will. Simon and Julia are going to some bed and breakfast this weekend, so they won’t be around to watch Zane.”
“I could watch him,” I offered. “We don’t start filming until Monday, so I’m free until then. It could be fun, just us guys hanging out all day.”
She peered back at me hesitantly. “Really? You wouldn’t mind? I know he’d love hanging out with you.”
“Yes, I’d love to,” I insisted, scooting closer to her. “We’ll have fun.”
She licked sauce off her finger and then nodded. “Okay, but under one condition.”
“Shoot.”
Her gaze turned serious, her entire demeanor more adamant. “Do not leave the house with him. Okay? It’s summertime. He hates being cooped up in the house all day, so he will ask to go do something else. You just have to tell him no. There’re plenty of things he can do here at home.”