The girls’ responses ping on my phone, one after the other. I don’t dare look at them with Drew sitting only feet from me. I stand up and tap Drew on his arm. “Just have to take a call with the office.” I wave my phone in his face like it will add substance to my story, then walk away quickly, knowing instinctively that he is watching every step.
When I’ve found a relatively private corner in the bookshop, I pull out my phone again and scroll through the replies.
Sarah: Do it.
Allie:What Sarah said, but only if you won’t end up hurt.
Dana:Sometimes it’s best to walk away.
Their advice is wildly different, and I take a moment to consider each suggestion. Sarah’s response is the least surprising. She’s always been a free spirit, flitting from one relationship to the next, never becoming too attached. Dana’s response hints at a hurt in her past that she’s never felt able to share with us. Allie and I suspect she had her heart broken badly in college, because she never talks about dating. It’s Allie’s response that gives me pause. Drew does have the ability to hurt me. I don’t believe he would do it deliberately though. He’s not mean or unfeeling. But because I like him, a lot, he could unknowingly break my heart if I let him.
I turn to face out the glass window of the bookshop and come face-to-face with a life-size poster of the man himself. He’s impossibly good looking. No wonder the women waiting for him to sign their books are swooning. I remember seeing this photo for the first time when Jackie showed me the proofs for all the promotional material. It made my lady bits tingle with the memory of his naked body.
This time, my reaction is different. I know him better, and those stormy gray eyes in the picture are less of a mystery. The text messaging between us over the last couple of weeks has given me more of an insight into the man. He’s shared snippets of experiences, thoughts, and daily happenings in his life. Before, he was like a nice sketch, interesting and pleasing to look at. Now he’s becoming an oil painting, with all the details, background, and light and dark shadings added.
Maybe it’s time I discovered why he doesn’t seem to want to let me go, like he told me he wanted in Cornwall. His words back then are a contradiction to his actions now. First, demanding I do the book tour, then showing up at the gala, and all the texts between us since.
I should just come straight out and ask him to explain himself, because I need to know before I fall back into his arms again. Something that is bound to happen now that I’m back in Drew’s orbit. The physical attraction is impossible for me to resist. I never saw myself as weak willed, but obviously I am.
Until I’m ready to hear his reasons, though, avoidance is the only answer. Now that is something I can control, because I have my own car and will be able to travel to the next city separately from Drew.
At our hotel for the night, I excuse myself from Drew and Jackie, telling them I’ll order room service because I have some work to do. It’s true—I do have work to do. For weeks, I’ve avoided reading Drew’s book, but I can’t anymore. I pick up the copy he sent me by courier the day after release, which was sitting on the top of my overnight bag.
I’ve had the manuscript in my email folder for weeks, but it remains unopened. Any excuse I could come up with to not open the attachment worked for me. It was like I was back in college, needing to study for an exam but doing everything except opening the textbooks.
I put my copy of Drew’s book down on the nearby table and go to get myself a glass of red wine from the minibar. But halfway across the room, I stop myself. It’s just another excuse to delay the moment.
I turn back to the table and pick up the thick hardcover volume again. Every night since I received the copy from Drew, I’ve looked at it, sitting on the set of drawers beside my bed. Opening the book has now taken on more significance than I should have ever let happen. It’s just a damn book. I’ve read hundreds of them, so this one doesn’t need to be anything more than any other. But it’s his, a part of him.
Before I knew who Drew was, I read his first book about his time in Iraq. It was heart-wrenchingly raw. Now that I know the man behind the stories, I don’t know if I can bear to read it. Of course, I have to, in case I’m asked any questions as the head of Carlson Publishing.
I’ve delayed long enough. All my work emails are up to date, and I’ve completed my usual bedtime ritual, even adding an additional moisturizing body rub with the aromatherapy oils provided by the hotel. There’s nothing more to do other than to climb into the cozy-looking bed and read. With the book tightly clasped in my hand, I walk over to the bed and flop down on top of it.
Hours later, tears stream down my cheeks. I’ve just read how one of Drew’s SAS teammates was killed by a sniper on a mission in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan. He was standing right beside him.One bullet for one life. It was destined to be mine or his,he writes. The way he talks about his friend and his experience of loss is heartbreaking. I remember back to the way he talked about the minicab driver who died in the car accident. At the time, I wondered why he was so impacted by his death when he hadn’t really known him.
Now it makes more sense. Maybe it even explains why he needed to be on his own to recover from his injuries. I get up from the bed to wash my face, then settle back down to continue. There’s no way I can sleep now. I need to read another chapter. I want to learn more.
Chapter twenty-one
Katie
Bydaytwoofthe book tour, I’m exhausted, and it’s not even lunchtime. I sip on my second cup of coffee for the morning, hoping it will give me the energy to keep my tired body awake. It’s my own fault because I was up until the early hours of the morning reading Drew’s book. I didn’t finish it, but only because my eyes kept drooping shut and the words were blurring together from tiredness or tears. It was hard to know which.
What I do know is that I’ve learned so much more about what makes Drew tick. His writing is honest, unfiltered, and intense. He shares everything—thoughts, feelings, and emotions—in some of the most horrific of circumstances. And it changes everything. How am I going to be able to look him in those stormy-gray eyes and not see the pain of loss I now know he hides from the public?
Sadly, I’ve also come to the conclusion that he’s probably not a settling down kind of guy. In the book, he comes across as wanting his freedom to be able to find the next big adventure. After the things he’s seen, it would be ridiculous to think he could possibly be content living aregular guykind of life.
I skipped the Leeds bookshop this morning, for those reasons and more. However, the excuse of needing to take calls with my office or respond to emails is starting to wear thin. Even Jackie is becoming suspicious, and she knows what my workday normally entails. Avoiding being alone with Drew may have worked so far, but now I’m either going to have to spend time with him or come up with a new reason for sneaking off tomorrow.
By the time the afternoon session in York is underway, I’ve successfully managed to not have one minute alone with him. I’m turning into an expert at ducking and diving out of his path. I’ve even been able to evade his gaze and ignore his personal comments. It’s all been strictly business. Not an easy thing to do when Drew’s presence is so overwhelming, tempting me back to dirty thoughts.
The last of the readers eagerly await their moment with Drew, and I’m congratulating myself on surviving another day of book signings. Two down and only three to go. The privacy of my hotel room beckons. I tilt my head to Jackie, who is standing beside me. “Well done. It’s been another successful day.”
“Thanks, but it’s not over yet. We still have dinner with the competition winners.” My head spins in her direction, and I take a step back. I can tell by the way she’s wringing her hands that she was worried about telling me this little piece of information. I can only imagine.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask shakily, trying to keep my voice low so Drew can’t hear us.
Jackie offers me a small smile, and her features soften. “Drew insisted that if he was going to have dinner with a bunch of strangers, his words not mine, then we’d have to join him … I said it would be okay.” Jackie stares down at the floor. “I know it might be a bit awkward, but I’ve met the winners, and they seem very nice.” She doesn’t realize the reason I’m not happy has nothing to do with having dinner with some competition winners.
