"No, but—"
"But what? Our relationship is completely not normal, I'll give you that, but that doesn't make it wrong."
I stared at his chest where he'd failed to dry off a few droplets of water. "What will the tabloids say?"
"I don't give a damn what they say. This is between you and me, and I want you and me to be forever. I want my ring on your finger, my last name attached to you. I want it all, Morgan."
"Are you proposing to me?" I tried to keep my voice light and teasing, but I was wringing my hands together in fear. This was so crazy and fast.
"No. Not like this. But I don't want to rush you. If you need more time, I have more time to give you. I just need to know when you're ready for me to do it right."
"I—uh—" I took a deep breath. "I want you to—to meet the rest of my family."
"Your grandfather?" He pulled back and gave me a disgusted look.
"No. No." I smiled, loving that he knew me well enough and that he knew how I felt well enough to react with disgust at the thought of meeting my grandfather. "I want you to meet Petey and Fran and the adoratwins, Manny and Jake and everyone—I want them to know you before we—"
"Okay. What about Christmas?"
I nodded. "We always have Christmas Eve dinner at the inn. It's sort of like my mom is there with us."
"Am I invited?"
I slapped him in the chest, and he pulled me into his arms. I kissed his neck, loving the clean smell of his soap on his skin. "It wouldn't be Christmas without you there and the guys too. Is Mel going back home for Christmas?"
"I'm not sure. I'll talk to her about it. So once I get the stamp of approval from the rest of your family, will you be ready?"
"No." His shoulders slumped, but I quickly continued. "I don't need their approval, Sean. I know I already have it anyway, but I don't need it. I just want them to meet you and get to know you."
His smile was blinding, reminding me of how he was voted one of America's most handsome men every year. "I can do that." He pressed his lips quickly to mine "Can I push just a little harder?"
I rolled my eyes and smiled. "You're always pushing me."
"For good reason, love." I reluctantly nodded, and he kissed the tip of my nose. "What kind of wedding have you always dreamed of?"
I stared at him for a moment, feeling rushed. Talking about being ready for him to propose was one thing. Planning our wedding was—too fast.
"I'm just curious if we have similar ideas. That's all, Morgan."
I forced myself to relax. "Okay. Well, um, you probably want something big—I'm okay with that I guess."
"Morgan, I asked what you want, and I don't want something big, love"
"You don't?" He shook his head. He knew practically everyone, so I just assumed he'd want them there. But with his small group of friends, I guess I could see how new people factored into his life—or didn't as the case was. I thought for a moment about what I envisioned for my wedding. "Um, small is definitely better—just close friends and family. Somewhere quiet—no worries of photographers and mobs of fans, but still special. That's probably not too possible, though."
He kissed my lips lightly. "Well I've got time to work on it. And I agree with you about all of it. I don't think you'll agree with me when it comes time to set a date, but at least we agree on what it should look like." He turned toward the closet.
"What do you mean about the date?"
"Well I'd want to sweep you away before you could change your mind." He winked at me and disappeared into the closet. "You probably want a long engagement."
I hopped up on the countertop and thought about it. Did I need a long engagement? I mean we'd only known each other a few months—that was fast. What would people say? They'd probably think I was pregnant or something. How embarrassing would that be? But then again, did it really matter what thousands of strangers would say about my love life? If I started worrying about that now, what would stop me from reading every tabloid and obsessing over the crap they put in there? No. I wouldn't let that happen. But Petey and Fran and Mae—I'd worry about what they thought of me.
He came back out of the closet, pulling a T-shirt over his sexy six-pack. I tried to explain my thoughts on the subject as delicately as possible. "It's not that I wouldn't want to jump at marrying you. It's just that—my family will think I'm pregnant or something. I don't want them to think we're rushing into it."
"You really think these people you call your family don't know you well enough to know that you don't make split-second decisions? I refuse to believe they love you like I do if they don't know that you are one of the most pragmatic, responsible, clear-headed people on the planet."
"No. They know that, it's just that— I don't know."
He stood between my legs and put his hand on my cheek. "It's okay. You don't have to know everything right now. I was just trying to start the discussion. I like that you think everything through. I like that you listen to me, but work it out on your own. I respect that about you, sweetheart."
I smiled at him, sitting there with my arms around him and my head on his shoulder, imagining what it would be like to say "I do." The image smacked me in the brain, and I suddenly knew what I would paint for him. I could see it so clearly in my mind. I was standing at the altar, staring deeply into his eyes as we exchanged vows. Red roses were above us, and that devouring look was in his eyes. The warmth I felt over the image was just—it was peaceful and yet, if it happened like I imagined, even if it was as soon as the next day, I somehow knew I'd still feel that peaceful.
I jumped off the counter abruptly. "Hey, I just had an idea for the inn!" He wrinkled his forehead at me, but I just kissed his cheek and rushed to the door. "I'm just gonna run upstairs and work on it for a bit." I needed to sketch it out before it left my mind. Sean had the nasty habit of making every thought leave my head.
"Okay, but I'm coming up after you in a few hours," he called out to me. "I've barely seen you today."
Psycho
The next few days, I worked frantically on the painting. I was overly obsessive about the details, making his eyes just right and the roses perfect. It was tiring but incredibly worth it. Anthony escorted me every day and watched me paint. He complimented me on my talent and managed to sound completely sincere. We even chatted about various things like books and music. Every once in a while, something flirtatious would pop out of his mouth, but he immediately apologized or turned it around into something innocent. It really did seem like he couldn't help it, but he was certainly trying with me. I respected that more than anything else he'd done since I'd met him.
Five days before Christmas, I was just finishing the painting when Anthony's cell phone started ringing. He stepped out of my little studio to answer it. When he came back in, he was anxious. "Sean will be here in two minutes."
"What! No. I have to get back to the inn. He can't come in here."
"It's too late. We can't get you back over there in that time." He looked around my little studio. "Don't you have any sheets or anything to cover it up?"
"No, it's still wet. Oh, I know. I'll take it up to Cerise's apartment and hide it in there. You grab my drawings and put them in that drawer over there."
He started moving quickly around the room, and I picked up the painting, careful not to damage the wet paint. As quickly as I could, I ran up to Cerise's apartment, thankful she always left it unlocked in case I needed something to eat or drink while I was painting. I set the painting in Cerise's room, knowing Sean wouldn't go in there.
As I turned to walk back down the hallway, the door opened. "Anthony, sit at the kitchen table, and we can make it look like we were getting something to drink." But when I looked up, I stopped cold. It wasn't Anthony who'd come through the door. My whole body turned to ice, and my palms started sweating immediately. Brent smirked at me as he closed and locked the door behind him, dragging a chair from the table over to wedge against the door handle.
"Hi, baby. It's been
too long. I've missed you so much."
I couldn't say anything. Fear spread rapidly through me, debilitating me. He moved toward me, and I tried to get myself to back away, but I couldn't make my feet work.
His insincere smile made me want to throw up. "I wanted to come back to you sooner. I wanted to apologize and tell you how much I love you and how scared I was on our wedding day. I panicked and left you, but I've always loved you, baby."
Was he serious? After the beating he gave me, did he really think I would believe this?
"I know we have a lot to work through, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You remember all the good times we had? How we'd laugh and enjoy each other."
"I remember you beating the shit out of me, Brent."
His eye twitched, but he looked to the floor with a falsely sad face. "I know, baby, but what you did was wrong. You know I didn't enjoy hurting you, but you needed to know you'd done something wrong."
He was psychotic. I thought he was just greedy and manipulative, but now he was certainly in the psycho category. When he got within five feet of me, I finally got my stupid limbs to move. I started backing away from him.
"But that's all in the past now. I want to be with you and marry you. I know that asshole actor guy thinks he can keep me from you, but he doesn't know what we have, does he? He doesn't know how much we love each other and everything we've been through."
I hit the end of the hallway before I knew it. I looked back toward the door, wishing Anthony would walk in.
"It's okay, baby. They don't even know I'm here. They're off trying to help your little actor get in safely. We have time to figure out our future while they're doing that, and you can tell them all to go to hell. I'll take you away from here, and we can get married and start a family."
I could feel myself start shaking. I had to start talking, try to stall him. "But how did you even get in here?"
"They don't have the best of locks on that last stable door. It was surprising really, that they overlooked something so simple."
"But the alarms?" I asked in surprise.
"Oh, they turn those off when they're in here with you. I've watched them do it the past few days. So no one knows I'm here."
He was right in front of me now. The doors to the bedrooms were on either side of me. I inched toward mine, but he put his hands up on the walls beside me, trapping me. My heart was racing. I tried to remember the training Sean had given me. Time… I just had to buy him some time.
"You have the most beautiful neck. I've dreamt about it so many times." He caressed his hand along the side of my neck, kissing it gently.
I cringed and tried to get away from him, which is when his face changed from the fake loving expression he'd worn to pure rage. He gripped my breast and smashed his lips onto mine.
My mind was running to catch up with itself. I was panting and trying so desperately to calm down. I shoved against him as hard as I could, and he pulled back to look at me. "You are a stupid bitch. I thought you'd be smart enough to choose me, but you don't have a fucking brain in your head."
"Sean will kill you for touching me."
Pounding on the door pulled my attention away, and his hands closed around my throat. "You deserve to die slowly, Morgan."
I tried to scream, but his hands dug in deeper, choking my breath away.
"Morgan!" I recognized Sean bellowing my name as the pounding continued. Something about his voice made my mind clear a bit. His words came floating back to my memory, Forget about the choke, aim for the knee. Push with the ball of your foot and stomp down. Do it hard, Morgan. Break his knee.
I was shaking and scared beyond belief, but I pulled up my foot and tried to feel for where his knee was. He was about my height, so I made the best guess I could and pushed hard in a downward angle.
He cried out and fell backward as the chair he'd put in front of the door flew across the room, and the door opened. I saw Sean, but Brent clutched at my arm, dragging me to the ground and smashing my knee on the hardwood floor.
"You bitch!" He grabbed for my neck again, but I was quicker. I got his fingers in a lock like Sean had shown me and twisted them backward, getting to my feet above him. He cried out in pain, but I didn't let go. I kept twisting.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Sean holding the guys back. "No! Let her do this!"
Sean's shouting gave me more confidence. I twisted harder until he was cowering from me, but I didn't let go. I pulled back my left hand and punched him in the face with the same downward movement Sean taught me. I felt something crunch and knew I'd broken his nose. He squealed like a little girl and clutched at his nose.
I thought about the movements Sean taught me that would break his neck. He was in the perfect position to do it. But I couldn't. I wasn't Brent. "I've learned a few things since you left me. I've also learned how to snap your neck." His eyes widened, and he shook his head back and forth pathetically. I knew he believed me. When we'd been together, I had no defensive skills whatsoever besides cowering in a corner. He'd never been the least bit afraid of me. He was afraid now. It made me feel—in control almost. "But I'm not some sick pathetic fuck like you are, Brent." I let go of his fingers and walked away. Anthony and Rudy rushed past me. Sean pulled me into his arms.
He didn't say anything, but I could feel him shaking. He walked with me back down to my studio and held me as I cried.
The rest of the day was incredibly long. I had to go to the hospital to be examined and have pictures taken of my injuries. I had to go to the police station and give a statement to Beans, who was great through the whole thing. Sean stayed by my side with Rudy, Nathan, and Anthony. Troy had gone home for Christmas, but Craig also came with us. Photographers were absolutely everywhere, but we had a full police escort everywhere we went, so they didn't get much. I kept a scarf around my neck to keep any unwanted photos from leaking to the press.
By the time we got home that night, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep the second I hit the bed. I was vaguely aware of Sean undressing me and slipping a nightgown over my head, but beyond that, I was out like a light.
At some point in the night, the nightmare started. My mind apparently had more to work through with Brent. I couldn't remember the details of the dream when I woke up screaming, but I knew it had something to do with Brent destroying the painting I'd worked so hard on for Sean. The second I started screaming though, Sean was telling me it was okay. When I realized I was in his arms, I calmed down and wrapped myself around him as much as was humanly possible.
I spent the next several days hanging out with Mel, who decided she wasn't going home for Christmas. I didn't push her, but something about her reaction to the attack made me ask her if her husband ever hit her. She told me no, and I believed her. When she asked me about my nightmares, I got more suspicious. She said Sean had asked her advice on how to help me, which I could understand. He felt helpless against my dreams. I knew they would go away—they always did—and they'd lessened each night. She seemed upset about my nightmares, though. I finally got her to tell me that she had the same nightmares about her husband. She was afraid of him. I swore I wouldn't tell Sean but made her promise not to go back to him unless it changed.
Cerise spent a lot of time with Mel and me at the house, talking and doing our nails—just stupid stuff. Annalisa was busy in the kitchen at the inn, preparing the Christmas feast, but she came over to make us play taste tester quite often. We pounced on her and did her nails and pampered her whenever she came over, which was fun.
I didn't go back to the inn again until Christmas Day. Not because I was afraid, but because there were at least twenty photographers camped out in front. Beans and a few of his fellow officers stayed parked in the parking lot and managed to keep them off my property, but it didn't deter them from practically living in their cars.
I'd personally called everyone I considered a close friend or family member, excluding Alvin, of course, and let them know that yes,
I was dating Sean Wilder, and yes he would be at Christmas dinner. I also asked everyone not to say a word to the media about me or Sean. They had no problem agreeing to that, and I knew they wouldn't.
Cerise brought over my painting a few days before Christmas as Nathan and Anthony kept Sean busy in the garage. It gave me the opportunity to scrutinize it again and fix anything I didn't like.
"You're nuts, you know that?" Cerise laughed as she sat in one of the large armchairs across from my desk. "That flower was perfect the way it was."
I squeezed some paint on my palette and went back to work mixing it until I'd reached the shade of red I wanted. "I just want it to be the best it can be, Cerise."
"Do you have any idea what he got you for Christmas?"
I shook my head. "He said he got me two things. One I can open in front of everyone, and one I'd have to wait until Christmas Day for."
"Hmm. Sounds like lingerie to me."
I shook my head. "If it was lingerie, he would have said Christmas Eve night, not the next day."
"True. No ideas then? What was wrong with that flower? You didn't have to redo that one too."
I smiled. "It had a speck of green in it. I don't want that green there."
"You're ridiculous." She laughed judgmentally. "So no ideas?"
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Why are you pestering me? I don't have a clue."
She smiled and shook her head. "No reason." But her voice was way too high. She knew something, and she was dying to tell me.
I put down the paintbrush and walked over to her. "Spill."
She put up her hands. "He hasn't told me, I swear."
"But you have some idea. I know you too well, Cerise. Tell me what you know."
She leaned forward and looked me dead in the eye. "Not if you tortured me."
I walked back to the painting and looked at it from several feet back. She wouldn't give in. I knew that much. She was tough when she had a good secret. Silly things, I could get out of her easily, but when it was big, she kept her mouth shut. This must be big. "He didn't buy another house, did he? Or some expensive car?"
Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight Page 37