Trouble Me (19 page)

“Tessa? Hey. I know. Long story. Listen, can you put Joe on? Kelly’s pretty upset.”

There’s a pause. I put my head down on the countertop, the shudders and heaves of my chest shooting pain through my entire torso.

“Joe? Hey, it’s Andrew. Yeah, I know. So, Kelly’s really upset.”

He walks out of the kitchen. I can’t hear the rest of the conversation.

He comes back in and takes my hand.

“Can you come with me?”

I nod through my sobs. I try to catch my breath. The tears just keep coming.

Andrew leads me into the master bedroom, through to the bathroom.

He turns on the shower, then turns and looks me straight in the eyes.

“Kells, I think you’re having a panic attack. Here’s what we’re going to do, okay?”

I nod.

“We’re going to get into the shower. I’ll hold you. Just close your eyes.”

He steps back for a minute and strips off his shirt, shoes, and steps out of his jeans. He pulls my T-shirt over my head and helps me step out of my pajama pants.

We’re both still in our underwear, but he pulls me into the shower anyway.

I can’t stop crying. I feel the hot water run in rivulets through my hair, down into my eyes.

He pulls me close to his chest. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

I listen to his heart. I try to breathe.

Finally, and I don’t know how long we’ve stood there, I can catch my breath. He rubs my back in small circles with one hand, the other holding me tight to him.

He murmurs into my wet hair. “Is it getting better?”

I nod.

“Come on, then.” He turns off the water and gets me a towel. He wraps me up and helps me into bed. He climbs in behind me, pulls the covers tight around us, and holds me close.

I shudder a little. I must’ve been hyperventilating—my fingers and toes slowly uncramp. I didn’t even notice.

Andrew pulls me tighter to him. “I’m taking you away tomorrow. We’re going to go somewhere quiet, and I will make this better for you. No one’s going to hurt us. I promise.”

I close my eyes and fall into a dreamless sleep.

K
ELLY’S
V
ERY
Q
UIET
O
N
T
HE
P
LANE
.

Yes, I borrowed Jordan’s private jet. I called last night after Kelly finally fell asleep and cashed in a very big favor from him. He’s a dick, but he’s a dick with a plane, and I need to help Kelly shake off this dark shadow that has such a grip on her.

So, here I am, doing the big, crazy proposal. She’s not throwing up, and she’s not in labor, so I think I’m allowed to propose for real. With all the proposals and since I already told her she’s my fiancée, I guess I took her part out of it, but oh well.

The big plan is to surprise her with the Oregon house, show her the ring, and hopefully skip down the beach hand in hand like two happy, crazy kids.

That’s all I’ve got.

Tucker gave Jeremy the heads up that I wanted to do something nice to show Kelly the house and surprise her, so maybe he got a little more creative than I did. But he’s Jeremy, so I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“Are we there yet?” Kelly looks at me sleepily. She’s been sleeping on and off for the past couple hours. I expected her to throw a big fit, not knowing where we were going, but she just smiled and said she was curious.

This is not her. She never makes things easy, and she never just lets things happen. This passivity is unnerving. I want my Kelly back. This is a little like Stepford Wife Kelly. I don’t like it.

“We’re descending now. Wanna know where to?”

She nods. This quiet stuff’s creepy too. She’s never been a woman of few words.

“Portland, my pet.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Then a little car ride. Then the surprise.”

“A private jet, just for the two of us. I’m impressed. Must be some surprise.”

“Come here.” I motion her to my seat. She takes her seatbelt off and slides over. I put my arms around her. “You’re worth a very big surprise.” I kiss her, and I feel her mouth on mine, but she’s soft, and she gently takes my kiss without returning it. I run my hand along her body, tracing my fingertips across her warm skin. She leans into me and closes her eyes, but again, she’s accepting my touch, not reacting to it. “Are you okay, Kelly?”

“I will be. Getting away with just you will be good. Thanks for this. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You’re the one who got hurt. I’m supposed to be strong for you. I’m being ridiculous. I know it’s been a burden to you.”

“What in the hell are you talking about? It’s not a burden. Jesus. You had a panic attack, rightly so, and you think I’ll lose my patience with you?”

“Sometimes it happens. Mari and I were talking about it.” She ducks her head.

“It’s not happening right now, so stop thinking about it.” I pull her closer. I wish I could kiss that kind of stupid, lethal thinking out of her head. How can she think I’d find her tiresome?

“Sorry.”

“Nope, no more apologies this whole trip. I don’t care if you accidentally push my ass down the stairs, you won’t be saying sorry for anything for the duration of our stay in Oregon. Are we clear?”

Finally, finally, I see her smile. She seems to relax a little into my embrace. “Crystal.” She leans forward and kisses me this time. I want to unleash all of it on her, turn her to straddle me, get my hands all over that gorgeous blooming body of hers, but she’s drifting off again, eyelids drooping.

“Why are you so tired?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you sleep when I sleep?”

She shakes her head. “No. I watch you. I worry about you. Watching you breathe feels calm, peaceful. I just wait to fall asleep, but lately, the sun comes up, and I’m still watching.”

What would she be like if Tucker and I had told her the whole truth about the car accident? What a mess.

I don’t know who put the fear of God into her like this, but it needs to stop. It’s unacceptable.

We land in Portland, and I actually get to drive for the trip out to the place on the coast. No paparazzi tailing us, no bodyguard—not that I don’t love Tucker—no boys—not that I don’t love the boys. Just us. The two of us. I think back to the last time we were alone, and I can’t put my finger on when it was. We’ve been sleeping with someone next door for too many months to count. This shoot turned into summer camp. Camp Pettigrew. How sad.

“I get to pump my own gas,” I say to the dashboard. Kelly’s dozing in the seat next to me. This trip I rented a fun car. Kelly always gets a Prius. I got an Escalade. Normally Kelly would think that was silly, and she’d probably sing rap songs at me, ask me if I was riding dirty, give me all sorts of grief. Not this time. I don’t like it. She’s not herself.

I pull into a gas station to top off the tank and get out. In LA, I can’t pump my own gas—too much commotion. In New York, I wasn’t doing my own driving. Here, for just a minute, I’m normal. Crazy thought, huh, to be psyched to do something like pump my own gas? But I swear I miss regular stuff. I miss Target. I liked Target.

I haven’t been in a box store in years. Actual years. The mob scene it’d cause—and I’m not saying that to be douchey. It’d be a frenzy.

I stand with my credit card and gas nozzle at the ready. A guy comes out from the store.

“Hey, you can’t do that,” he tells me.

“What?” Has it been so long that I don’t know the right way to pump gas?

He shakes his head. “Oregon. You don’t pump your gas. I do.”

I sigh and step out of the way.

On the plus side, he doesn’t recognize me.

All done. I get back in and pull away. Kelly still sleeps. She didn’t even wake up for the stop.

Finally, I pull off 101 after the business loop for Tolovana. Now Kelly stirs and sits up, curious. Her eyes seem brighter than they have in a while. Maybe in the time since my accident.

“Where are we going? A bed and breakfast? Is it the Whale’s Perch?”

“Nope.”

I edge the car around a couple deeper potholes. The house has sat empty since we saw it at the beginning of the summer, so when I bought it, I made a point of getting an interior designer in from Portland to furnish it, clean it, the whole deal. By the looks of the tall grass on either side of the drive, the house might have been for sale for a while before that.

Kelly’s figuring it out. “Wait a second.” She punches me in the arm. “You didn’t!”

“I didn’t what?” I can’t help it. I grin. I’m not much good at surprises.

“You bought the house I love, the one on Silver Point! This house, the one at the end of this driveway!” Now she bounces up and down on the car seat like a ten-year-old. That’s my Kelly.

“Okay. I totally did.”

“Shut up!” She punches me on the arm again.

“You shut up!” I park the car. I bet she’s never seen the house from this point of view. She always just stared at it from afar, admiring it from the beach on her runs.

I win. I made her smile, made her happy.

I’m a happy man.

I get out and come around, open her door for her, walk her to the front door. Jeremy had the agent stash the key under the mat. It’s Oregon, people. Until someone gets wind that I live here, this is a very safe place.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t wait to see the inside!” She takes my arm and squeezes it. Suddenly her limp is barely there. I swing the door wide, and she pushes past me.

“This is really the first time either of us has seen it. Kind of weird, huh?” I hope she likes it. God, what if it sucks inside? I hadn’t thought about that.

She walks down the corridor, following the daylight. I know from the pics online that the big payoff is the great room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. I feel for the ring in my coat pocket. Here we go.

“Andrew, come look! It’s gorgeous. Oh, what did you do? Awww…” She’s fawning over something. What did I do? What did Jeremy do? Please don’t be something sick. Jeremy’s idea of romance is edible panties.

I walk in. The whole wall I’m facing is windows. It’s spectacular. And the east and west walls are all rock, with a huge two-story fireplace on the west side.

But Kelly is over at the kitchen sink. I join her.

“This is so romantic. I love it.” She turns around and wraps her arms around me.

I peek around her to see what the fuss is about.

The deep farmhouse sink is filled with ice, and there’s a bottle of sparkling cider in it. And two or three dozen long-stem red roses chilling as well, all tucked in one by one around the bottle. And a note that says “Welcome to your new beach house, Kelly,” on one of those florists’ picks. For once Jeremy had some class.

“You deserve it.” I kiss her deeply. This time, she returns the kiss, and I realize that we’re alone, truly alone.

“I love you.”

“You feeling more awake? I think there’s a bedroom up those stairs.” Hell yes, I’m seizing the moment. I want to be with my girl.

She nods and kisses me again, her tongue teasing mine before she turns away and goes to the stairs. “You need to give an assist on the stairs part. Bum knee here, you know.”

Here’s my chance. I cover the space between us in two strides to pick her up in my arms. “I’m on it.”

She puts her arms up. “No, no you don’t. You’ll hurt your shoulder.”

I ignore her and sweep her up. “I got cleared from
my
physical therapy, unlike some slackers I know.” I feel a twinge of pain over the scar, but no way in hell will she know that. I kiss her and begin up the stairs. “After this, you need to give me a little assist. I need some help with something. In bed.”

She laughs loudly, and it echoes off the rock walls. “Your double entendres suck. Carry me up the stairs, and let’s get to the ‘assisting,’ big boy.” She uses air quotes, even.

Maybe she’s out of her funk.

I L
IE
I
N
A
NDREW’S
A
RMS
, finally happy. I haven’t felt like this since the accident. This house, the quiet, no one here but us—it liberates me. The anvil, my unwelcome companion pressing down on my chest, has lifted. Hopefully it’s gone for good. I feel calm and safe.

“Happy?” He strokes my hair, kisses my head.

“Definitely. Relieved.”

“About what?”

“I wasn’t sure if I could shake this off. But I think I feel better.”

“Good. In LA you should keep up with the PT. You could get scheduled as soon as we’re there. You won’t miss me—I’ve got meetings back to back to back after being in New York for so long.”

“Yay.”

“I know. But you can hang with your folks.”

“It’ll be fine. And the weather rocks. I can wear your hoodie all the time!”

“Then what will I wear all the time?” he asks.

He’s a good sport.

“I think it’s time I just get you a real wubbie, and you admit that you never wanted to give up your fuzzy teddy bear from when you were two.”

“You know me too well.” He nips my earlobe and dips his head to nibble on my shoulder.

“How’s the back?” I worry about him. What we just did, that could pull something.

“Fine. Thanks for asking, now that you’ve already had your way with me. When we were busy, you didn’t seem too worried about my state of health.” He kisses me on the cheek.

“A woman has needs. Then she can feign concern for your well-being.”

He tickles me in the armpit. “Cold. That’s cold.”

I wriggle away from him. “Ooh!” I sit up.

“What?”

“That was a good swift kick from Hiccup. He’s not keen on our shenanigans, apparently.”

“A kicker? I’ll call the private soccer coach when we get to LA. Probably a waiting list, like the preschools.”

I roll my eyes. “This will not be an LA kid. No showbiz brat. There’s a reason we live in Idaho.”

“I know.” He sits up and picks up my hand, kisses each fingertip.

I can see that this comment hurts him a bit. This stay in LA, he’s taking it personally.

“Now come get dressed,” he says after a moment. “I want to check out the rest of the house. We didn’t even go out on the deck.”

I grin. This is my house. My house with this amazing man, who right now is slipping his old jeans over his amazing body. This feels good, relaxed. All the worries are set aside for now.

I slip on my clothes and skip the shoes. He walks me around the other bedrooms, helps me back down to the main level, and then strolls to the deck door. “Let’s check the view out, shall we?”

I follow him out. It’s breathtaking. Andrew turns the fireplace on, and it warms the deck outside as well as in. I stare at the beach below. The black, forbidding rock spreads out from underneath the house, its fingers reaching down to the water’s edge before it dives under the surf, only to rise above seventy-five feet out to sea, a huge dark monolith.

“Silver Point. It’s gorgeous.”

Andrew comes up behind me. “You like it?”

“Of course. You saw me drooling over it in June. You’re sneaky.”

“I pay attention. I want to know the things I can do to make you happy, you know.” He turns me around and kisses me.

“You make me happy. Just you is good.”

“Oh, then I can give the house back. Good.”

“Now let’s not be hasty. The house makes me happy too. We can keep it.”

“Oh, all right. I want to talk to you about something real for a minute.” He shifts on his feet a little. His hands go into his front pockets, and his shoulders shrug up.

“What?” I know this look. It’s his uncomfortable, nervous stance.

“I’m not sure how to do this.”

“Do what?”

He takes me by both hands. “Come stand right here.”

I do as he says.

He comes up behind me. “Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

I feel him wrap his arms around me. “Open them.”

I open my eyes. He holds a ring box in front of me. “Here.”

He lets me go, comes to stand in front of me. “Marry me.”

“What? Is this the real one?” I open the box. It’s an old, emerald-cut diamond, set in a delicate band.

“Tucker and Jeremy helped me pick it out, believe it or not. It’s antique.”

“It’s gorgeous. I love it.”

“Is that a yes?”

“What?”

“Are you saying you’ll marry me?”

“You’re already calling me your fiancée. You’ve proposed ninety million times.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes. Andrew Pettigrew, I want to marry you. Thanks for officially asking me.” I kiss him. He holds me tightly, kisses me playfully on the jaw.

“I really wanted to do another super proposal, but doctors Rudy and Joe both advised against skydiving this far into a pregnancy. And the elephant got a cold.”

“I consider this to be a very elaborate, extravagant, and perfect proposal. I love it.”

“Good. Maybe when we renew our vows somewhere down the line, the elephant can get involved.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Are you hungry? I want to eat, devour you a little more, and sleep. And then possibly repeat.”

“All of the above. I’m hungry for all of that. You heal my heart, Andrew. Thanks for sweeping me away. I needed it so desperately.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Almost-Pettigrew.” He kisses me one last time and slips inside.

I follow eagerly. I have an almost-husband to attack.