“We can take the hint, Mark,” Paul says. Diane shoots him a dirty look and opens her mouth to say something, and I watch as Paul closes his eyes and shakes his head calmly at his wife. She glares at him but doesn’t say anything else, and it marks the first time I’ve ever seen Diane back down.
I’m grateful to Paul as he stands and begins clearing away the remains of our lunch.
“I can take care of that,” I say.
He nods once and presses his lips together into a thin smile. “Thank you, Reese. If there’s anything you need, anything he needs,” he jerks his thumb toward his son, “please give us a call.”
“I appreciate that.”
He helps his wife up from her chair. Diane walks over to Mark and laces her arms around him, hugging him from behind. “I’m sorry. Feel better.”
He doesn’t say anything to her.
“Bye,” Paul says to me, and Diane ignores me as the two of them walk out the door.
We’re engulfed in silence again once the door latches shut behind them, but Diane took the tension that hung in the air with her out the door.
Mark turns from the window and gazes at me from across the room. Our eyes meet, and all the passion and all the heat that was always there still passes between us. I’m cautious, though. He was just released from the hospital, but more than that, I don’t even know if he wants me here.
“Steve’s leaving the band?” I ask softly.
He nods as darkness spreads across his handsome face. “Not permanently.”
“Why?”
He blows out a breath as he walks to his couch, and then he lies across the entire thing. I head toward the chair across from him, but he shakes his head and motions toward the cushion where his feet rest. I sit, and he rests his ankles in my lap. He’s wearing jeans and he smells like the sterility that only comes from a hospital. He needs a shower and whatever it is he uses to smell like sandalwood. As I glance at his sock-clad feet in my lap, I can’t help but realize that I haven’t even had a proper hug from him yet. The closest contact we’ve had since I walked into his hospital room was this morning when he sat on the hospital bed and folded his arms around me, then later when he looped his arm around my waist as we got out of the car.
I need to feel him. I need to wrap my arms around him and breathe in his sandalwood. I need his mouth on mine and his cock sliding into me. I need his words and his breath and a future with him.
I realize all this as I stare at his feet.
He interrupts my thoughts. “He and Ang have struggled with getting pregnant for several years. She’s pregnant and he wants time off to be with her through the pregnancy and birth.”
“Why does he need to take time off?” My hands automatically start massaging his feet.
“She’s high-risk and shouldn’t travel. Our current tour ends in early December, but Keith has us running all over Europe starting in March.” He lets out a moan as I knead the arch of his foot, and the sound sends a shot of desire straight through me.
I clear my throat. “Who’s Keith?”
“Our booking agent.”
“How do you feel about it?”
He purses his lips as his eyes go back to the window. “I can’t be mad at Steve for wanting a life.”
“But you are.”
I feel his gaze on me, but I look down at his feet. “Before I met you, I never would’ve understood putting someone else before the band.”
My eyes move to his. “And now you do?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I get it. He has a life outside Vail. We all do, but none of us have ever exercised our right to that life before. It took me a long time to come to terms with the idea that just because he’s taking a hiatus doesn’t mean we’re breaking up. It doesn’t mean it’s over. He’ll still meet us in LA for studio time, he just won’t be touring with us.”
I point out the obvious. “Between us, Mark, you are Vail.”
He shakes his head. “We’re a team of four.”
“But you’re the front man. People know you, recognize you.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but it’s a team effort.” His voice is adamant, and it tells me that the subject is closed.
“What are you guys going to do?”
He leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. “We have auditions set up in a few weeks around Lizzie’s wedding when we have a tour break, but we might need to reschedule the canceled shows during those dates.”
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Tired.”
I want to talk more, want to talk about us and want to hear the things he wants to say to me, but I don’t want to push him.
“Go get some rest,” I say softly.
He nods and stands. Before he goes to the bedroom, he helps me up. He doesn’t let go of my hand when he asks, “When do you need to go back to Vegas?”
“I’m here as long as you need me.”
His eyes burn into mine when he speaks next. “Quit your job. Stay with me. Be with me.”
My jaw opens, but no words come out. Just some little squeaky sound. I don’t know what to say. I can’t just quit my job mid-school year to hop on tour with Vail because Mark wills it to be so.
Even if that’s what I want.
He swallows thickly and squeezes my hand before he lets it go. He really does look exhausted. “Think about it. There’s a key on the counter and Todd’s number if you need to go anywhere. I don’t know how long I’ll sleep, but I want you to stay here with me, not at Lizzie’s. I’d prefer in my bed, but if you’re more comfortable in the guest room, stay there.”
I nod, still at a loss for words, and he leans in, presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, then heads to his bedroom to get some rest.
* * *
I did some shopping on Michigan Avenue, and not just for me. I picked up a few groceries, and I realized as I was on my way to Lizzie’s to grab my overnight bag that Mark’s birthday is only a few days away. What do you get for the man who can buy anything he wants and has everything he needs?
I want to make the day special for him—he has a lot to celebrate this year.
His life, for one thing.
An idea formed in my mind of the one thing he doesn’t have—the one thing he’s never had. I’m bouncing with giddiness over my idea in the back of the Yukon on my way back to Mark’s place when my phone starts ringing.
It’s my department chair. I was just about to dig out the phone I’ve been ignoring all day to call her. I need to let her know I’m taking off the rest of the week, but she beat me to it.
“Hi Katherine,” I answer.
“Reese, hello. How are you?”
“I’m good. I was just going to call you to let you know I need to take off the rest of the week.”
“The rest of the week?” she repeats.
“I’m so sorry. I’m in Chicago helping someone who just got out of the hospital.”
“I know. One of my sophomores showed me the photos on the internet this morning. You’re the talk of the school.”
My chest tightens. “What?”
“Mark Ashton’s mystery woman finally identified,” she says as if she’s reading a headline.
“Excuse me?”
“Though I don’t think Mr. Monroe’s very happy. Don’t get me wrong, he’s thrilled with the money the private performance brought in for the auction, but he wants the focus to be on education. I’m sure you can understand that.”
I’d forgotten about his donation to the school auction. I need to remember to ask him about that.
“I’m lost, Katherine. What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t seen the articles online? The pictures of you getting out of the back of a big, black car with that singer?”
I blow out a breath. Of course—the paparazzi. My photo must be everywhere by now. Everyone was waiting with bated breath to know the very second Mark was released from the hospital, and I was there by his side as we walked into his building this morning.
God, was that only this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago.
“No, I haven’t.”
“What’s he like?” she asks conspiratorially.
“He’s the kindest person I’ve ever known,” I say. I want to gush. I want to go on and on about how in love with him I am, but Katherine and I don’t have that sort of relationship.
“He’s not bad looking, that’s for sure. How’s he doing? Was it really exhaustion? I never believe that when I read about it in the magazines, you know?”
“He’s doing great, just tired. Touring makes for long hours and not much sleep and it all just caught up with him.” It’s not a lie, exactly—it’s true that touring is an exhausting activity. I don’t answer the other part of her question.
“Anyway, Reese, Mr. Monroe just asked me to call you to let you know that we need to put you on a leave of absence.”
“What?” I ask stupidly.
“The kids are all up in arms that their teacher is dating a celebrity, and not just any celebrity—one whose picture graces the lockers of half the girls in school. They’ll want every detail about your personal life, and Mr. Monroe just doesn’t feel that’ll make for a very good learning environment.”
“Curriculum always comes first. You haven’t even given me a chance to prove that.”
“It’s been a circus here today and you’re not even at school, dear. We’ve got concerned parents, distracted students, and you on the internet with a known playboy. Mr. Monroe did some research, Reese. He saw the types of photos that are out there of Mark Ashton, and he doesn’t want that type of reputation associated with our staff.”
“Oh my God, Katherine,” I say as my heart starts racing. “Those are all old pictures put out by his publicist to build a certain image. That’s not him.”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. The pictures of you with him say otherwise, and that makes you part of that image. We can’t have that in an environment with children.”
I suddenly want to scream, defend myself, do anything to prevent this conversation from where I’m suddenly sure it’s going.
“I’ve filed paperwork with the district office for a leave of absence through December,” she says. “More than likely it’ll be through June, but we’ll take one semester at a time. I’m working on a long-term substitute for your students.”
Tears fill my eyes. “You’re firing me?”
“No, you’re not fired. It’s a leave of absence. There’s a difference. And if you disassociate yourself from him, certainly Mr. Monroe would be open to reinstating you to your position.”
Anger shakes me to my core. “After he donated a performance worth four hundred thousand dollars to this school, you’re telling me you’ll take me back if we break up? Don’t you see how twisted that is?”
“My hands are tied. I wish things were different. If you have a better solution, I’m all ears.”
I too angry to think of a better solution. Instead, I end the call.
I just hung up on my department chair.
I toss my phone on the seat beside me as I realize what the fuck actually just happened.
I just lost my job. Leave of absence. Bullshit. It’s as good as being fired.
And not just that. I just lost my job because of the same things Mark hates most about his job.