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“The fuck, Brax?” I bark, shooting to my feet.
“I know you want to protect her. I’d be exactly the same. But you can’t do that all the time. Effie is a smart woman. She knew what she was risking when she tied herself to you like this. Have you spoken to her about how she might want to deal with it?”
“No,” I confess, the adrenaline ebbing away.
“That might be the best place to start, don’t you think?”
He’s right. I know he is. But every time I mention the future and having to return to her life, shadows of pain flicker across her eyes. I hate hurting her. Brax is right; I do want to protect her. But maybe this just isn’t a time where I’m able to do that.
She’s going to need to stand up and rip the band-aid off if she stands a chance of moving on.
Which she has to do. I refuse to let her wallow here forever.
We spend a little longer chatting, our conversation thankfully drifting away from my current situation to Tuesday’s photoshoot and other plans we have for the rest of summer. Or at least, plans he has. Other than some helping out at some of our summer camps, and appearances and endorsements, I don’t have much. With Grams’ health declining, I knew my summer would be spent with Effie.
My mind drifts to vacations. The temptation to whisk Effie away from all of this is strong. But it would be irresponsible of me to convince her to go back to Chicago and then drag her away again.
She needs to find stability in her life, to return to her routine and not be pulled away again just as she gets settled.
Forgetting the idea of a week or two on a white beach, I consider shorter options.
I think about the cities we’ve always talked about visiting.
But will us jetting off together blur the lines again?
I’m going to have to tell the media that we’re not a couple; how would us taking trips together look?
When we eventually hang up, my head is spinning even more than before I answered.
So much is up in the air right now. Coming here, I thought it was only my professional life that was in tatters after that tragic loss. I never would have thought that my private life would become headline news, or that I’d find myself engaged.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and let my cell hang between them. I close my eyes and try to make sense of my thoughts.
It doesn’t take long to discover that it’s completely impossible, and eventually, I give up trying and head back to the house to continue tidying up.
In my quest to ignore my thoughts, I pull the refrigerator open and attempt to come up with something for dinner.
It’s already getting late, but I’m hoping Effie wakes up hungry.
Hell knows I already am.
By the time the sound of light footsteps moves toward the kitchen, it’s dark outside.
Closing my emails and lower my cell, I look up as she steps into the doorway.
She’s breathtaking.
Her hair is wild, her lips are still swollen from my kiss, and she’s once again wearing nothing but my t-shirt. Her nipples harden the longer she stands there under my attention, and she begins to shift her weight from one leg to the other.
I smirk, loving how I can still affect her even after what we did a few hours ago.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, pushing to my feet and walking over to the fridge to get her a bottle of water.
“Good. Sore. Tired,” she states as she takes the bottle from me but makes no move to lift it to her lips.
“Drink,” I demand.
She stares at me for a moment before remembering how this is currently working between us.