Because the truth of the matter was, while Sarah was the driver of the car that Virgil died in, the police report had been clear. It wasnotSarah’s fault. A drunk driver had killed him, a man who was now in jail and whom I had long forgotten about. I had just used the story to hold Sarah up as an enemy, even when it was clear she was not. I guess it made dumping her easier.
I shook my head. I couldn’t fucking believe I’d just let myself recall that detail. This really was coming to a head one way or the other, and I had a feeling “one way or the other” no longer entailed such a public downfall as I had expected. How had Sarah had this effect on me?
No, not her having an effect on you. Her making you remember the truth. Her making you go past the pain to what really happened and how you really feel.
This might not be something money can buy or power can quash. But it’s something you must do.
“Virgil,” I said with a sigh, “you’d better be happy with whatever happens.”
Because by the time I put the tablet down and had taken another deep breath, it was clear that wherever we went, we’d be alone. Truly, absolutely, one hundred percent alone.
The dancing would end.
The guessing games would end.
And only the truth about how we really felt about each other would be left standing.
16
SARAH
Like most times up to this point, Cassius told me on relatively short notice to get ready.
It was the day before Thanksgiving, and while we’d spoken some by text since the photoshoot, he’d been strangely distant. Not in a bad way, not like I felt like he was retreating, but in a way that suggested to me he was grappling with something. What was obviously anyone’s guess—probably something with his family or me—but I could not glean any specifics from his words or his actions.
That was, up until Tuesday night, when he told me to be ready to spend the next few days at his private home in Wyoming. When I told him that I had intended to return to Phoenix to be with my dad for Thanksgiving, he said that he’d make sure I was home in time for Thanksgiving dinner. That meant that we would be taking a flight Wednesday morning, and I’d be back in Phoenix by two p.m. the following day. A quick visit, but…
A curious one.
Unlike Las Vegas, unlike New York City, unlike even the photoshoot, I couldn’t see any professional reason why we’d head to Wyoming. If we were doing photos of us, sure, it washard to imagine a more scenic backdrop than what the Grand Tetons and other parts of Wyoming could provide. But my artwork had never revolved around nature like that, and Cassius made no mention of photoshoots for us out there anyways.
All of this was to say that when I arrived at the private terminal at Reid Airport Wednesday morning, I wanted to see if Cassius gave any hint. The vehicle I rode in the back of drove right up to his plane, and I emerged to find Cassius standing at the stairs of his plane, arms folded, sunglasses on, wearing a button-down shirt with no tie and a blue jacket. He looked fucking incredible, but the looks captured my attention only momentarily before something hit me.
I couldn’t even recall Cassius folding his arms. I was no body language expert, but that usually suggested being closed off or cold to someone or something. Cassius had never felt the need to be guarded—until now, apparently.
“Hello,” I said.
“Plane’s taking off in five,” he said. There was something clipped, maybe even nervous, about his voice. “Get in and get comfortable.”
“What are we going to do today?” I said.
Cassius shrugged, not a hint of a smile forming.
“Relax. Take some photos. See where the day takes us.”
This wassounlike Cassius. Now I wasn’t nervous, I was suspicious. Cassius let nothing, life included, take him along for its whims; he took other things along for his whims. Where the fuck was this going?
I got on the plane, got buckled up, and sat across from Cassius. He sat down, crossed his leg, and smiled at me. But the smile wasn’t the controlling, cocky smile. It was… maybe not nervous, but curious, eager to see something.
Were we about to fuck in the air? Was this what he had his hopes up for? I couldn’t help but glance down, trying to see if hisarousal had pushed through his pants. There was nothing overt; either he hid it well or I was getting way ahead of myself.
Way, way ahead of myself. I reminded myself that just because the thought of Cassius had brought me to pleasure myself didnotmean I owed a fuck to him. I might not have been an angel who waited until marriage, but I also wasn’t going to just get back in bed with him just because we’d been together long before and had seemingly had some of the tensest moments of our lives together.
“You seem edgy,” he said. “Relax. I’ll have some cocktails brought out to us when we get to a safe altitude.”
“Sure,” I said, though that only reinforced the possibility that we would fuck.
Anything, it seemed, was possible with Cassius Vale.
