By now, I knew how he felt about politics, the world in general, chivalry, honor, pop culture, and everything in-between.But about his own life?I knew very little, because Jack seldom talked about it.
In contrast, I'd shared countless details about my own life.
And now I couldn't help but wonder at the imbalance. Maybe he'd only encouraged me to ramble on about myself because it spared him the trouble of doing the same.
He said, "It's a cabin in the mountains, as you damn well know."
Oh, please. Because his bio said so?
I crossed my arms. "Do I?"
"If you want," he said, "I'll fly you there tomorrow."
Silently, I considered his offer –andthe way he'd phrased it.
Me.
Not us.
I asked, "Would you be coming, too?"
"Sure." He paused. "Afterthe tour."
At this point, I wasn't even sure I believed him.But what did it matter?If we had so little trust between us, I'd be a fool to even consider it.
Again, I glanced toward the pictures. "And I suppose you're not going to tell me why you have those?"
In reply, he said nothing.
Into his silence, I added, "Or who those people are."
Still no response.
"Or," I persisted, "how you came to have those photos at all."
When hestillsaid nothing, I gave a snort of derision. "You know what? Forget it." I glanced toward the hotel room door. "Now will you please get out of my room?"
He wasn't even dressed. But hey, that could be solved easily enough. When he made no move, I marched to the bed and grabbed his clothes. I wadded them up and gave them a hard toss in his direction.
He caught them with one hand and said, "Forget it."
"Forget what?"
"I'm not leaving."
"Why not?" I said. "It'smyroom."
Okay, yes, he was the one paying for it. But that expense was part of the book tour. And in spite of our relationship, Ihadbeen doing the job I'd been hired to do.
He said, "If you want to be alone, take the suite."
The suite was three times the size and several times nicer. Maybe Ishouldtake the suite, if only prove a point.
But what that point was, I hardly knew. And besides, the thought of returning to that bed, the one we'd been sharing, well, it was more than I could stomach.
I replied, "I can't. That'syourroom. Not mine."
"No. It'sourroom. Remember?"