Outer Core (13 page)

I smile, though the thought of Tasha leaving for Thailand and Ian for a shooting in freaking Milwaukee sits heavily on my heart. “Hey, the woman
can cook
.” I close the fridge and turn to face him.

Daniel smiles lightly. “I'm glad I'm not being replaced yet.” He tosses his phone on the counter, his attention on me.

I wrap my arms around his neck, my face tilted up. “No one can ever give me what you give me.”

“And what would that be?” A crooked smile awaits my response.

I kiss his jaw. “You.” I lean back to look at him. “Thank you for everything you're doing for me.”

“Thank you for everything you are.” He inclines to press a light kiss to my lips.

“Daniel Stark, are you turning into a hopeless romantic in your old age?”

Daniel reaches for his beer bottle on the island beside us. He takes a long drink, his face tilted sideways. “Just trying to get into your panties again,” he says to the bottle's mouth with a grin.

I fabricate a pout. “You just killed a perfectly cheesy moment.”

He places the bottle back and pulls me closer to him. His hands grip my hips, and he lifts me up to straddle him. Instinctively, I lock my legs around him.

“Um, wha –”

His mouth meshes with mine, silencing my question.

“I've been waiting to do this since you marched into the kitchen earlier half naked,” Daniel says to my neck, walking us to the bedroom.

“Psst . . . I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

I swivel around in my chair to the creepy whisper. Reflexively, my face lights up to Ian's smile.

“What of mine could
you
possibly want to see?”

Ian's smile turns from cheery to sleazy in a nanosecond. “The naked pics of your man on your phone.”

I shake my head. “Sorry to disappoint. No such thing exists.”

“It's a shame. Start taking them tonight. Tell you what. I can do you a favor and give you some pointers.” He tucks his hands into his pockets in nonchalance.

“Bet you would.” I give him a quick once-over. Ian in an all-black ensemble is a sight to enjoy.

“No seriously, gorgeous. I'm talking scientifically proven material here. The significance of a relationship is measured by how much of your phone storage is utilized by your spouse's nudity.”

I turn to save the document I was working on before Ian interrupted me with the interpersonal relationship scientific breakthrough.

“Let me show you this artistic collection of Josh.” I hear his steps coming closer.

“No!” I yelp, squeezing my eyes shut. “Ian, I swear!”

He snickers beside me. “C'mon, we're lunching together. Let's go get Josh.”

With my eyes still shut in horror, I say, “Just put the phone down, and everything will be all right. Put the phone down, Ian.”

Ian grabs my hands and pulls me out of my chair. “It's in my pocket.” I finally open my eyes. “Anyhow, you wouldn't be able to handle it.”

“What wouldn't she be able to handle,” Josh asks, joining us.

“Oh, believe me, you don't want to know,” I say.

Familiar with the cuckoo nest that's his boyfriend's mind, Josh lets it go.

“So where do you want to go?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.

“How about we order several starters to share?” Josh asks after we all examine the rich menus for too long, still undecided.

“Good idea,” I say, and Ian nods.

While Josh places our order with the bulky, energetic waitress, Ian tells me new details about the movie. A small twinge tugs at my heart when he says that they finally have a date to start shooting.

“For how long will you be staying there?” I ask, bringing a piece of bread to my mouth.

“Obviously, it's subject to change, depending on how it goes, budget, and shit, but they are talking about four to six weeks.”

“So you're leaving just a couple of days before Tash, uh?” I sigh. “Everybody is leaving me.”

Ian nods and turns to give Josh an inscrutable glance. They seem to have some sort of wordless conversation. I study Josh's frown lines. Or maybe it's an argument.

Josh clears his throat. “About that, Hayley.” He smiles at me, but this time, his smile has a timid air to it, maybe even an apologetic one. Ian's eyes squint my way. “I know I'm not as important as Ian and Natasha, but I'm sort of leaving too.”

“What do you mean?” I ask Josh, but it's Ian's expression I'm trying to decode.

“I'm leaving YOU. I gave my notice last week.”

“Wow,” is all I manage to say through the questions running in my head. “When is your last day?”

“The end of next month. I've decided to take a couple of weeks off and join Ian on set before starting at the new place.” Not a bad idea when it comes to Ian and his wayward mind. I wouldn't test the proverb “absence makes the heart grow fonder” on Ian. Not for the time being, at least.

Ian smiles at Josh.

I take a sip of my drink. “Where are you starting, if you don't mind me asking?”

Josh shakes his head. “I haven't told anyone yet, but I trust you to keep it under wraps for a while.”

I nod.

“I'm going to be the managing editor of
Gentleman
. I'm done dealing with ladies issues.” His trademark smile shines at me.

“I understand. That's great. I'm so glad for you.”

“Would you be interested in joining me there?” He forks a fried calamari.

I look up at him, chewing on the vegetarian tikka masala in my mouth. I swallow, my mind processing the question. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I'm good where I am. It won't be the same without you there, though.”

We trade amicable smiles.

“So yeah, he's going to be chaperoning me instead of tyrannizing you,” Ian says, flinging back a couple of stray strands from his forehead.

“A. I won't have too much time to keep you company with settling into our new home.” Josh wipes his mouth with a napkin. “B. I think I can say it was actually Hayley who was tyrannizing me.”

“That I can believe.” Ian smirks at me.

“Not letting you drag me into this,” I say and turn to Josh. “If there's anything I can help with, packing/unpacking or whatever, don't hesitate to ask.”

“Sure. Appreciate it.”

“Anyhow, nothing much for me to do these days. I'm going to be left all alone. Is there something in the water around here? Everyone seems to be leaving.” I end with a sigh.

It's an almost impossible task to get back to work after lunch. I hug the coffee mug with both hands, aimlessly focused on the screen in front of me. Tasha and Ian's impending departures, Josh leaving YOU, and Daniel urging me to pitch agents lead to the thought: do I really like what I do? Or maybe with everything in store, it's time to consider other possibilities.

I stare out the patio French doors at brown leaves gliding over an autumn breeze. I used to associate autumn with last, wild surfing escapades, pumpkin spiced . . . every-goddamn-thing, and long, dusky evenings of multiple steaming coffee mugs and sketching. To me, this autumn seems to be about changes and good-byes. I can hardly believe that three whole weeks have swept by with me barely noticing, leaving me with less than a week to say a temporary yet still difficult good-bye to my Ian and Tash. In a way, it feels like every constant in my life is about to change, besides the most important one that is.

I turn to look at my constant sitting next to me, having a pleasantly silent dinner. I bring another forkful of salmon into my mouth, literally feeling Daniel's gaze on me. With my lips still closed around the fork, I trail my eyes up to his. He doesn't return my stare, given his eyes are practically burning a hole in my chest. I dip my chin, squinting to see if there's any couscous or sauce on my shirt. Nothing. I chance another glance his way.
Oh hi, the rest of me is also here
. The man seems to be in a boobies coma. Hypnotized by bosom.

I drop my fork to my plate, deliberately causing some clatter. Nothing. I twist my mouth, staring at him. “D?”

“Hmm.” His eyes not moving an inch.

“Daniel?”

“Yes, baby?” he tells my chest.

I lightly chuckle, my eyes narrowed at him. “Did I tell you, I had the Veyron newly painted in bright pink?”

“Mmmhmm . . .”

No? Really?

I fold my arms across the visually molested organs. Daniel, as though jerked out of a cozy dream, finally brings his eyes to mine.

I grin. “The salmon is delicious, ah?” He looks adorably flushed and muddled. I trap my smile with my teeth.

“Yeah, salmon.” His eyes squint from my face to my chest. The creases between his brows deepen. “Hales?” He tips his chin my way. “Did you get a new bra or something?”

My brows turn to pucker. “No.”

He nods. His eyes as though spellbound wind back in Boobyland. I leave my seat and head over to sit on him. “Hey, handsome, wanna cop a feel? You seem so fascinated, and anyhow, they are sort of yours.”

The words are still fresh on my lips when Daniel's fingers come in contact with the skin under my shirt. “Damn right, they are.” His fingers slowly graze up my ribcage, leaving raised skin in their wake.

“How would you feel if I didn't work for a while?” I ask, enjoying the feel of his fingers on me.

“Where's this coming from?” His attention shifts back to my face.

“I was thinking about starting to look for something else, explore other possibilities. Now that Josh is leaving and all. So it will probably take a while till I find something new.”

His hands drop to hold either side of my waist. “Hales, you don't need to work at all. You know that.” He squeezes my waist. “Just do whatever makes you happy.”

“I never want to be that person. I don't ever want to rely on your money.” I hold his stare.

“Our money.” I can't help but notice the muscle above his jaw starting to tick.

“I'd feel more comfortable actually contributing to the “our” part.” I air quote ours. An action that leads to an irritated headshake by my “placid and reasonable” husband-to-be. “Speaking of, I think we should sign a prenup before getting married.”

“What are you trying to do?” His stare on me jumps from threat level low to severe in a blink of an eye. “The narrative this conversation is taking is starting to piss me off.”

Looks like Dr. Jekyll will be joining us this fine evening.

“Can you listen for a sec?” The tone of my voice mirrors his brisk one.

He wipes his mouth with a napkin and tosses it onto his plate. “Not when you make no sense.”

“Can you please explain to me how me looking out for your interests can be considered nonsense? Because I can't.”

His features harden. “Because it implies a scenario in which we are not together, and that's something I'm not willing to discuss. Not even hypothetically.”

I inwardly shake my head. “Believe me, it's the last thing I want, but what happens if for whatever reason we break up? What I bring to the table is a joke compared to . . .”

“Hayley, how can you say that?”

Uh oh, I'm Hayley now
.

“How can you so easily dismiss everything you contribute? How can money even be compared to a future together, affection, and children?” His lips purse. “And believe me, I don't see any situation in which I won't want you anymore. You're my future.”

It's amazing how relentless and illogical he can sometimes be.
Always
. “What if . . . I don't know, something happens?”

“Hayley.” It's a low warning.

“What if I were unfaithful?”
And how dumb I could sometimes be.

I flinch at the wrath darkening his stare. “
Enough
.” He lifts me off him, rising to stand.

“Daniel?” I take a step back, watching him as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Hayley,
drop it
. I'm done. I'm not taking part in this conversation anymore.” He gives me a piqued glance and walks out of the room.

“Idiot,” I tell my reflection in the mirror. I grab my toothbrush and assault my teeth with vigorous brushing. Why couldn't I have handled it differently? Maybe avoid pressing the red button marked
Danger
. It's a poor excuse, but his stubbornness makes my logical wires short out.

Knowing him as well as I do, I decide to let him cool down a little. It's the best approach before resuming talks with any extremist party. I can't help but smile a little at the thought of how confident he is in me, in us.
He might love you as much, but you're still a complete idiot.

I pull my shirt up over my head and toss it in the hamper. Cocking my head, I give my bra a curious examination. Daniel's mini obsession with my boobs earlier resurfaces as I frown at the way the hills of my breasts spill out of the cups. I send my hands to the clasp and take the bra off. Shrugging the straps down my arms, my frown deepens. My jiggling breasts are indeed fuller, and my nipples darker. I bring both hands to hesitantly feel them and am startled by the gasp leaving my lips. Boy, do I ignite.
The hell?
Tentatively, I bring my fingers to the pointed peaks. My eyes grow bigger at the sensation. My breasts are sensitive. As in
sensitive.
I touch them once more, and the first thing that jumps to my mind is how I wish it were Daniel's hands, mouth, skin, or Daniel's whatever, on me
right now
.

I push out a testy exhale, thinking about how we left things less than half an hour ago. Clearly, the current status-quo doesn't entitle jumping one another on a whim. This is not how you iron out disputes. Sensible people talk not grope. Disregarding the sensual buzz my body is transmitting, I head to bed.