Chapter 12
“Want to grab lunch?” Despite the pressure building in his head and in his heart, Michael gave Emily his best smile. Things had been awkward between them last night and it was his fault. He needed to make things better. They hadn’t spoken much that morning, both of them wrapped up in their own projects around the house. Having her around, but outside touching distance, made him feel like an amputee pining for his phantom limb.
“Thanks, but I have to run some errands today.”
“I could keep you company.”
She shuffled in her place. “I’m not doing anything exciting, trust me. You’d be bored to tears.”
“Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Did he expect she’d jump at the chance to spend extra time with him after he turned her away last night? It served him right for being such a nutcase. He wouldn’t blame Emily for wanting out of their fucked up relationship. He’d gone from treating her like a booty call to practically confessing his love to kicking her out of his bed. “I’ll see you after lunch.”
“Not if I see you first.” Emily slung her purse over her shoulder and made a silly face.
He knew she was trying to keep things light but he spied the tension near her eyes. He hated seeing her concerned.
As she walked outside, Michael meandered toward the craft service table. Luckily, many of the crew members had chosen to grab a quick lunch from a new food truck parked just around the corner. He didn’t feel like waiting in a long lineup to spend fifteen bucks on a tiny taco, “oohing” and “aahing” over how authentic it tasted. He reached for a turkey club and a Coke and headed outside to sit on the porch.
Sometimes he was an ass. Hopefully he hadn’t managed to alienate Emily with his stubborn behavior. His brothers were right. He was pig-headed and liked things his own way, even if it was to his own detriment. Emily had merely been trying to help yesterday, asking him to consider Lacey’s idea, and he’d shut her out.
It was one thing to get in Lacey’s craw about doing the show with the daycare families, but he shouldn’t have pushed Emily away. Michael didn’t care if he offended a thousand TV producers and directors but he wouldn’t hurt Em for the world.
He was falling for her, hard and against his better judgment. Not that loving her proved bad judgment. If anything, it was the smartest thing he’d ever done. She was perfect for him. He’d known it from day one. Her smiles and laughter had confirmed it, and having her sweet body in his bed had sealed the deal.
Their relationship was moving quickly, probably a lot quicker than his comfort level preferred, but he’d never been one to do things halfway. He was an all-or-nothing sort of man, in work and in life.
If he could just make Emily understand, he’d feel a lot better.
Maybe it was time he tried to face what happened to him a year ago.
The moment he considered it, the familiar ache lanced through his frontal lobe. His automatic reaction was to reach inside his pants pocket for his bottle of Tylenol, but he remembered Nick had taken it at the Bamboo Gigolo and hadn’t yet given it back.
“Dammit.” Michael put aside his sandwich, braced his elbows on his knees and breathed in and out.
If he could just find something to take the edge off…
The first aid kit.
He jumped to his feet as he remembered the kit he kept stored in his truck. Surely he had some pills in there. He unlocked the vehicle and rummaged in the trunk. Pulling out the kit, he almost wrenched the zipper right off the case. He whipped it open and poked through the contents.
There were two headache medicine bottles inside, both of them empty. They’d been full not too long ago.
Bile surged into Michael’s throat but he choked it back. How many goddamn pills had he taken lately? Disappointed in himself, feeling like a junkie, he dropped the first aid kit and slammed the trunk shut.
As the pain intensified, he almost fell to his knees, right there in front of his pickup. As imaginary blades sliced through his skull, he thought he heard the deranged music fromPsycho.
He was going crazy.
Jane Ashton appeared before him, her torso bloodied and torn. She put one hand on her hip.Michael, there are worse things than being crazy. She shrugged.You could be dead.
She was right. He could be dead.
***
“Em, meet Priya.”
“Wow.” Emily shook the psychologist’s hand. “You’re not what I anticipated.”
Priya slid her glasses down her nose and looked over them. “Let me guess. You expected some sweet young thing whose greatest concern is Selena Gomez’s latest love affair?”
