I exhale slowly as I watch her lean over the piano, her smile so easy as she talks to Vincent. It’s been two weeks since I said those stupid fucking words. And I’ve torn myself apart every day. She’s distanced herself from me. The teasing is gone. The eye contact is gone. The vanilla coffee is gone.
The part of herself she was starting to trust me with is gone.
Now our car rides are silent again.
“You hurt me.”
Me. Those were her words.Ihurt her. And I was meant to fucking protect her.
“She’ll come around,” Killian says. “Everyone screws up sometimes.”
“We can’t afford to screw up,” I hiss. “This is our job. If we make a mistake, people get hurt.”And die.
He and Jenson look at me in understanding.
“It’s better this way,” I murmur.
They shake their heads like they know I’m talking shit. But it is better this way. Sinclair doesn’t fight to open her own door anymore or roll her eyes when I insist on doing something for her. She just accepts it.
In silence.
She says goodbye to everyone and gives Monty a kiss before handing his leash to Molly. Then she walks over to us, smiling at Jenson and Killian before looking at me with a flat expression.
“We should go.”
She’s got a shoot for a fashion magazine booked. I collect her bag from near the doorway and gesture for her to go first. She walks a couple of steps ahead of me. Close enough for me to domy job. But far enough that it’s obvious she doesn’t want my hand on the base of her spine, guiding her.
I haven’t touched her since that hug. Since she cried the tears I was responsible for, and they soaked into my shirt as I held her.
Since I was a fucking asshole.
Maybe the boys are right, and she’ll come around, forgiving me completely.
But even if she does, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Beautiful, amazing! Lift your chin a little. That’s it. Stunning.”
The photographer clicks away as Sinclair leans back against the wall, her blonde hair tousled and falling around her shoulders in the black pant suit she’s wearing.
“Makes a change to see us with so many clothes on, huh?”
I flick my attention up to Theodora.
“I love the runways, but shoots are my favorite. Especially if they’re for commercials and not editorials. There’s something exciting about walking down the street and seeing yourself on a billboard, you know?”
“I’m sure there is.” I nod, my gaze already back on Sinclair.
“Have you ever thought about modeling? You’d kill it in men’s sportswear.” She reaches out to squeeze my bicep through my jacket. “Yeah, totally kill it,” she muses.
Sinclair finishes up and glances our way, before walking over to the wardrobe assistant who starts helping her to get undressed.
“Hmm, she didn’t come and stake her claim on you this time. Maybe that means you’re free later?” Theodora smiles at me seductively.
I clear my throat. “I’m working.”
“He gets off at eight,” Sinclair says as she walks past us in her own dress and over to where her bag is.
Theodora’s eyes light up. “You giving him permission then, Sin?” She giggles. “I’ll take good care of him.”
