This isn’t just an argument about the airplane. It’s about where I end and he begins. It’s about how to balance his fame and my day-to-day life. It’s about fitting the discordant pieces of our lives together like the jigsaw puzzle we completed years ago.
Caleb says, “Already, the paparazzi are sending out their spies. Trying to figure out where the venue is and who’s catering the wedding.” He picks upmy hand and presses a kiss to my palm, then curls my fingers over it, so I hold the sensation of his touch.
The corners of his mouth tug down. “I hate to think of you out there, where people might be mean to you or judge you or hurt your feelings, all because of me.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, if someone recognizes me, I can handle it. I’m not scared of the press. Remember, I’ve dealt with them before. I need you to trust me, Caleb. Trust that I’m strong enough.”
This is an old wound, a painful one. Fear of exposing me to the harsh realities of his fame was the main reason Caleb left me before. I’m determined to prove him wrong. Show him I can withstand the pressure that comes with being his wife. I’m tired of him underestimating me.
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” he murmurs, refusing to look at me.
“I’ll be okay,” I reassure him once more. “Alvina will be with me. She’ll visit with her cousins in L.A. while I go to my lectures.”
“Well…,” Caleb says, drawing out the word, trepidation written all over it. “I did a thing.”
“What?” I whip my head up to him, immediately suspicious.
“I knowyou’renot worried, my brave lion-hearted fiancée, butIam, so Wayne’s coming with you. I booked him a ticket and got him a seat next to you.” He says the last part as fast as he can and then squeezes his eyes shut, scared to see my reaction.
“What!” My voice echoes off the hand-laid bamboo floor of his penthouse apartment as I picture the thin-faced tabloid reporter turned friend.
One aqua eye cracks open and, not liking what it sees, closes again. “Wayne’s going,” he says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
He’s marrying the wrong woman if he thinks I’ll give in that easily.
I hate giving in.
“No way,” I insist. “It’ll be fine. I love Wayne and all, but I don’t need him.”
Both his eyes fly open. Caleb sits up, his back ramrod straight, and glares down at me. “I wanted to send one of my bodyguards, like Dean, but I knew you would hate that, so Wayne’s going instead. He’ll be my eyes and ears out there. He can spot the press a mile away.”
“Because heisthe press.” I throw my hands up, exasperated.
“Exactly.” He nods like I just proved his point.
“Wayne will probably be on the job himself. I bet he’s going so he can hang out at the airport and take pictures of other celebrities who’re traveling. You know what he always says, ‘Business is business.’”
“That may be true, but he’ll still keep an eye on you.”
“Caleb,” I growl, my temper rising, “I’m a grown woman. I can look out for myself.”
He sighs and hangs his head, shoulders slumping. For a moment, I flashback to when we were broken up. How he had sat like this a year and a half ago. When he had turned back to the bottle and let his alcoholism take over. It’s hard, seeing him this way, so I force myself to calm down. He’s trying to protect me. Sending Wayne to California is his way of saying he loves me. That he needs me safe.
“Fine.” I relent. “Wayne can come, but he and Alvina are going to fight like cats and dogs, as usual. I’m warning you now. I’ll call every night and complain about it.”
Caleb’s relief is instantaneous. “Thank goodness. I thought we were heading toward a huge argument.” He settles back down next to me and mutters, “You can be so stubborn.”
“Who?” I say with mock indignation, widening my eyes. “Me? I’ll have you know I’m averyreasonable person.”
We both laugh. He’s right. Sometimes I can be incredibly stubborn. It’s a trait that’s gotten me through rough times. Medical school. My broken engagement. When my dad died. Once we’ve quieted, I tell him, “I don’t want to fight with you. Not when I have to leave in an hour.”
An ache, deep and piercing, gnaws at my chest as the reality of leaving him sinks in. This is the first time we’ll be apart since we became engaged. Ever since we got back from Tokyo last summer, we’ve spent almost all our free time together. It had been easy, a seamless transition to us spending time together.
Probably because we’d done it once before, almost two years ago, when we spent a month in my mother and Seth’s house in Los Angeles. Back then Caleb had hidden in that house, one I was already living in, on the run fromhis fame. That’s when we first fell in love, only to break up a month later when the paparazzi found us. It had taken months apart and then months getting reacquainted until our relationship found solid ground. Now, I can’t imagine not seeing him at least once a day.
Caleb throws his leg over mine, the weight heavy and familiar. He likes to cuddle like this, with one leg on me, like he’s a human blanket pinning me down.
“I can think of more enjoyable ways to spend this time.”
