Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)(65)
But then she looked over my shoulder, and a jealousy I’ve never known gripped me. It was for show. And of course it was. She didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, like I told her, it’s exactly what I would have done if someone I would want to make jealous was nearby. I just wish I could say it didn’t sting to realize it meant so much to me, and was only part of a maneuver on her end.
I thought…never mind. Doesn’t matter.
Postkiss, I went to the bar for a beer. But if I’m being honest with myself, I went to meet the jerk sitting at the bar who had the audacity to leave Annie in the middle of a date.
And I know he’s a jerk because when I walked up and ordered a beer, he asked me if Annie and I were exclusive. For a long minute, all I could do was stare at him. Stare at him and imagine punching the shit out of him because he only wanted Annie after he saw her make out with me in public. He’s not the kind of man who’s going to savor her or treat her well or peel back her layers to gain her trust. He’s looking for a quick good time with her, and that’s too much to stomach.
But if that’s what Annie wants, it’s not my business to get in her way no matter what I think about him. So I was honest. “Nah—it’s not serious. I’ll most likely be leaving at the end of month.” And for some reason, saying that last part had every muscle in my body tensing.
His eyebrows had gone up in a look of anticipation that made me hate him more. “Really?” He smiled as he took a drink of his beer. “Cool. I guess I misjudged her.”
And then I hated myself in that moment, too, because I felt like a disrespectful asshole for talking about Annie without her present. For throwing her to a shark all because I’m terrified to admit that holding her in my arms is the closest I’ve come to feeling truly happy in a very long time. I didn’t even know I was lacking happiness. But now that I’ve realized it, I can pinpoint it with scary accuracy.
I don’t know what this means for me now or where to go from here. Nowhere, maybe?
And that’s why I’ve been hiding and avoiding her the last few days. I invented a bogus fan threat and told Annie I needed to stay parked outside of Amelia’s studio while she worked, and that we couldn’t go into town. Even Amelia didn’t question it because this kind of thing happens from time to time. Our agency keeps a close watch on her known stalkers, and we get alerts when they are in a certain radius to her. Do I feel bad about adding potential unnecessary worry to Amelia’s life by suggesting said stalker is nearby, no. Because I’m not the good guy—even though spending time with Annie makes me feel remarkably close to one.
Today we’re headed into town, though. I couldn’t keep up the pretenses of a potential threat much longer. Currently I’m escorting Amelia down the sidewalk toward The Pie Shop. The paparazzi sightings have been pretty minimal lately, and even now I can only spot one carrying a long lens on the opposite side of the square, but I spoke with my agency last night, and they predict a steep rise over the next two weeks leading up to the wedding.
I’m in full work mode when we’re out in public, keeping an eye around us at all times for any potential threat. Zero percent of my brain is focused on Annie or what she’s doing or what her days have been full of or why she hasn’t even texted me at all. And that’s when my foot hits a divot in the sidewalk and I trip, nearly busting my ass on the pavement before I catch myself.
“Holy crap, Will!” says Amelia, stretching out a hand to help me up. I don’t accept her hand and instead pop up on my own with extra exuberance, brushing my slightly raw palms against my jeans. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you trip before.”
“I’m fine, let’s keep going.”
Amelia’s mouth is open and she looks near laughing. “You’re blushing. I’ve never seen you blush either! I didn’t know you could be embarrassed.” Now she is laughing and I hate her for it. Are we sure she isn’t actually my annoying little sister after all?
“Come on, we don’t need to stand here. There are paparazzi over there.” Who most definitely caught my spectacular fall on camera and will publish it ASAP. Cool. Just the sort of image I want buzzed around the internet. Clumsy Blushing Bodyguard.
This is Annie’s fault. Another reason I need to get my head out of the clouds. Relationships interfere. They’re bad for people. They’re—
“Where the hell is Annie?” I ask Amelia when we pass her flower shop and see a Closed sign on the door.
“She’s sick.”
“What? Since when?” My voice sounds a little too eager.
Amelia points to the little sticky note on the door. It’s in Annie’s handwriting. Only in a town this small would someone leave a note like this: “Out sick! Be back when I don’t feel like I have plungers up my nose anymore.”
I look sharply to Amelia. “How long has she been sick?”
“I think since the day after Hank’s.”
Shit. I had no idea. Now I feel terrible. This whole time she’s been sick, and I haven’t checked in on her at all. Wait. No. It’s not my job to check up on her. I’m her dating coach, not her boyfriend or her nurse. If it were anyone else in the world, I’d never think twice about someone having a cold. In fact, I’d stay even farther away so I wouldn’t catch anything. I’m just going to put her out of my mind and see her when I see her.