Page 79 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
A muscle in Beck’s jaw jumped. Then he straightened. “Not the whole time. But long enough.”
You would have thought he’d slapped her from the look on her face. “We tell each other everything, Beck.” Victoria, Queen of Atteridge Hotels and Resorts, became teary-eyed. “Don’t we?”
The elevator arrived again, depositing an elderly couple who looked ready for the pool.
“Come on, Victoria.” Madison wrapped her fingers around Victoria’s arm. “You don’t need this drama so close to your wedding day.”
What a statement, especially from the woman who’d probably been adding gasoline to the drama all afternoon.
“Vic, please. Let’s talk about this,” Beck said as they entered the elevator.
But the doors closed, separating us from them.
I squeezed Beck’s hand, trying to comfort him, but found it difficult when I was hurting so much myself.
Two parts of my life met in the middle like those elevator doors: my future in calligraphy and my relationship with Victoria. Only these doors would never open again. A welder had taken my lies and used them to seal it shut in one steady stroke.
There was no coming back from this.
That night, when my tears had dried, I laid down with Beck in our suite’s bed and replayed it all. Hailey and I should have come clean at the beginning with Victoria. Told her the truth and put the ball in her court. I could have shown her my work and convinced her. Maybe my sister could have offered a steep discount. Something. Anything except lying.
While my mind raced, Beck stroked my hair with light, relaxing fingers. Through it all, he stayed with me. And I wanted to keep him there, but I realized if lying had gotten me into this mess with Wesley and Victoria, I needed to come clean with Beck before I lost him too, although I might anyway.
The low lighting of the room reflected lazily in his soft brown eyes. I wanted his eyes to be mine to look into. I wanted my hair to be his to comb his fingers through. I wanted to have his hand to hold for all life threw at me. I wanted his laugh and his voice and his smile to forever be in my life.
But it wasn’t up to me.
“Reagan wants you back,” I whispered.
Beck’s hand stilled in my hair. “What?”
“Reagan wants you back.” I swallowed. “She’s been shooting heart eyes at you and staring daggers at me the entire trip. And that night when we went dancing, I overheard her in the bathroom with Madison. She knows she made a mistake.” My heart slammed against my chest with a shut up, shut up, shut up rhythm. “She loves you,” I managed, even though it broke my heart to say it because I knew it might change things between us.
Beck pulled his hand back from my hair, resting it on his chest. “Why are you telling me this?” He looked hurt.
“Because this was your plan.” My sternum felt like it had shrapnel in it. “To get her back.”
“Was it?” Beck asked so softly I almost couldn’t hear him.
“You wanted to make her jealous to win her over.” Hot tears made pathways to the pillow.
Beck touched my cheek, wiping the tears with his thumb. “And you honestly still think that?” he asked, his eyes drilling into mine.
“I don’t know,” I said wetly. “I just—being dishonest hasn’t worked out for me. I thought I should try being truthful to someone.”
Beck leaned in to kiss a spot on the bridge of my nose, wiping more tears after he did. “You should rest, Emily. You’ve had one hell of a day.”
He pulled me into him, my knee over his hip, my bandaged arm safely on his chest. We stayed there in the dark, neither of us able to sleep, it seemed.
And the glass-half-full part of me thought anything could be keeping Beck awake. His day had been just as taxing as mine. But most of me wasn’t optimistic. And I all but knew he was thinking about Reagan.
Chapter 22
“You should go with them,” I said to Beck, unraveling the bandage on my arm.
The group finally planned on hiking today. This was Beck’s chance to hang out with his friends without feeling like a betrayal to Poppy. And this was his only chance. With the wedding only two days from now, it would be time for the bridal party to get into gear.
Even if my relationship with Victoria hadn’t come to an end—with the truth blazing down like a comet making inevitable and devastating contact—I still couldn’t have gone out with my arm. I couldn’t risk another fall or, worse, an infection. I needed both arms for crawling on my hands and knees to Wesley, begging him to let me keep my job.
