“We need to talk,” she says, closing the door behind her.
“I was going to come find you—”
“I’m not hiding.” She cuts me off. “I know you told me to stay home. I know you think you’re protecting me, but I’m not going to cower in my apartment while people say terrible things about me.”
“Bailey, you saw what happened out there—”
“I saw you lose control.” Her voice is sharp. “I saw you physically confront a reporter on camera. Do you have any idea what that’s going to do to your reputation?”
“I don’t care about my reputation. He hurt you.”
“And now you’ve made it worse!” She’s angry now, irate. “Now, instead of just questioning our relationship, they’re saying you’re violent and unstable and everything Cassidy accused you of being.”
“I was protecting you!”
“I didn’t ask you to protect me!” She steps closer, eyes blazing. “I asked you to trust me to handle myself, but you can’t do that, can you? You have to control everything, fix everything, save everyone, whether they want saving or not.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” She crosses her arms. “Ever since London, you’ve been treating me like I’m fragile. I work here, Daniel. I have a job, a career, a life outside of being your girlfriend, fake or otherwise.”
“I know that—”
“Do you? Because right now it feels like I’m just another liability to manage.”
“Is that what you think?” I ask quietly. “That I see you as a liability?”
“I don’t know what you see anymore.” Her voice cracks slightly. “Do you even care about me?”
I should tell her the truth that I care about her more than I’ve cared about anyone in twenty years. The thought of her being hurt makes me want to burn everything down. But the pressure is crushing me, and Bailey is standing in the middle of it all, her name being dragged through mud because of me.
“You know what? Maybe that’s exactly what you are.” I hear myself say. “A liability.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Bailey’s face goes completely cold. The warmth, the anger, the fire—all of it drains away, replaced by something empty and terrible.
“Understood, Mr. Williams.” Her voice is flat. “Will that be all?”
“Look, don’t—”
“Will. That. Be. All.” Each word is ice.
I can’t speak. She turns and walks to the door. Her hand is on the handle when I find my voice again.
“Wait—”
“Don’t.” She doesn’t turn around. “Don’t make this worse than it already is.”
Then she’s gone. The door closes with a soft click, just as I realize, this really might be the end.
17
Bailey
Ican’t sleep.
I hate that I’ve been lying here for hours, staring at my ceiling and replaying Daniel’s words on an endless loop.
