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I tucked her tightly into me, the heat from my anger keeping her warm when the pashmina failed to do its job.
The vultures were still on our trail when I pushed Cat inside my truck. I rolled my eyes, imagining how they’d twist the pictures they took at that very moment, painting me as already having put my hands on my bride.
A camera got too close again, knocking me in my ear and encouraging that torturous bell to ring.
“Back the fuck off.”
“Remi...” Cat’s whisper blended into every other noise as I fell into my seat, slamming the door.
The vultures were still pecking at the windows as I looked over to her. I was definitely getting rid of this truck now that they fucking knew about it.
Cat’s gentle hand landed on my leg, those pink nails pressing into the denim jeans I’d been wearing since yesterday morning, hardly fit for a fucking wedding guest, never mind the fucking groom.
Her expression stayed soft, pretty lips parting to ask, “Are you some kind of local celebrity? Do you have like a crew that films you tattooing?”
No, luckily, because I couldn’t have anyone seeing the stuff I put on people’s bodies.
“I don’t have a tattoo show.” I swallowed all the awful truth, clinging to the next words, and only voiced what was necessary. “I’m a singer. I was a singer. I have a one-time show scheduled for next weekend.”
“My song...your song.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s a real song.”
“It was written for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
A million different reasons, Dream. Telling you that could have led to you finding out everything. Finding out everything could have made you want nothing to do with me, making both of our lives miserable when I refused to let you go. Or worse, it could have led to that perfect heart giving out.
“So many reasons.”
“Give me one.” She shrugged, having no idea how deep this went.
My fingers squeezed hers, and our eyes met. “I’m not who I used to be. I wanted to know if you could fall in love with the man I am now, not the boy I once was.”
That same big camera tapped my windshield, capturing the scowl I put on my face, and that was the moment Cat’s hand slipped from mine and created a hand barrier between our faces.
“And I do. I love you more than anything. So, you couldn’t have changed that much.”
“I’d like to think I have.”
“I wish I could remember you. I wish I could remember the feelings you gave me back then.”
“No. We’re better now. I told you I wasn’t a great person back then.”
“We are pretty great.” She smiled. “But I think I’ll need songs on demand going forward.” Her smile became a laugh. “You called yourself a loser.”
Before I could tell her that was exactly what I was, she talked again.
“Oh, shoot!”
“What is it?” I held down the ruffled-up layers as she reached into the backseat for her camera, still dumped in the picnic basket from last night’s date. She’d taken so many photos of the meal and of me trying to digest it without disgust on my face.
“We have no wedding pictures!”
“We have a few.” I nodded to the dozen cameras beyond the window. “They’ll be in every paper tomorrow.”
