Apparently, the Ice Queen’s reign continues, and so does our silent ride. Once we board the plane, we’re finally alone. She follows my lead, taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs. It’s another step in the right direction. I sneak a glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Vivienne is visibly uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, brushing me off. I reach for her hand, and to my surprise, she clasps it. Her warm fingers wrap around mine. A familiar buzz fills me as I sweep my thumb across the back of her hand. Vivienne squeezes.
“Let me guess, you don’t like takeoffs?” I say softly.
“No,” she whispers. “I hate them. And landings.”
“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
“Just talk. Distract me,” she mumbles so low I can barely hear her.
“Okay,” I say smugly, straightening in my seat. “I’ve missed you.”
She doesn’t say anything in return, so I keep going. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
“I know.”
There it is. She knows I never gave up on her. Silence surrounds us as I grapple for something to say. “I’m excited for you to see my house. It’s not as cool as having your own pool,” I tease, “but I do have a rooftop balcony in Brooklyn.”
“Oh, Brooklyn,” she scoffs in a fake snobby voice. “Is that supposed to be fancy?”
I burst out laughing. “It’s not like that. You’ll see.”
“Keep talking,” she demands, gripping my hand tighter as we hit some light turbulence while ascending.
“Are you still mad?” I ask.
She stares at me long and hard. Just when I think she’s not going to answer, she says, “What makes you think I’m mad?”
“Um, the muttering and flailing, refusing to go with me nicely—“
She cuts me off.
“I was thrown over your shoulder. I wasn’t given a choice to walk nicely.” Her tone is sassy, exactly how I like it.
“I’ll give you that one. But I still had to fly my ass all the way to Florida to get you to speak to me,” I argue back playfully, easing our conversation in the direction I want it to go.
She tenses, and even though it makes her uncomfortable, I need to know why she pushed me away. She looks down, focusing on her legs.
“I wasn’t mad,” Vivienne confesses. She lets go of my hand to shield her face.
“Tell me,” I whisper. “Why did you push me away?”
She pulls herself into a protective ball, and I drop to my knees. Kneeling at her feet, I reach for her. She murmurs, “I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I gasp. “Everything’s handled, Vivienne. I made sure of it. You didn’t need to protect me.”
“I didn’t want to ruin your career, Cas. You’ve worked so hard.” The confession rolls off her tongue like poison.
“Ruin my career, Vivienne, what are you talking about?”
“Everything that happened. It was all my fault, and you got dragged into it. Your career would be over.” She sounds like she might break.
“It’s over. Nothing is going to happen to either of us. The case is closed out completely.” I tug gently on her, but she resists.
“That’s not all. I don’t deserve you. I did something horrible, out of spite, and you didn’t care. Instead, you tried to protect me.Your fans also hate me and don’t want us to be together.” Her words sting, reminding me why she got stabbed to begin with.
“Some of my fans are sick and delusional. They’ll never accept me being in a relationship because they want to be with me. The rest of that, I don’t care about. I would do anything to keep you safe, Vivienne. Let that sink in—anything.” My voice is deep and raspy.
