Chapter 9
“Do we have to go back?” I asked as West put our bags in the back of the BMW. I leaned against the side, taking in the fall beach infused sun. The salt air wafted over me, and I inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the feeling it gave me. This time the Cape had been so different than the last. These memories would last forever, a direct juxtaposition to those of the past both good and bad.
West shut the trunk and pulled my waist to his. “Did I accomplish my goal?”
I put my arms around his neck as he leaned down.
“That depends, what exactly was your goal?” I teased. “Making me the happiest woman alive — check. Rocking my world — triple check. Amazing birthday — check times infinity.”
“Better memories?” West asked, his eyes serious despite the fact I was joking around with him.
“The best,” I replied, and he sighed.
“Even though you got mad at me?”
I began to shake my head, and his brows went up, stopping me.
“You immediately made up for it, and you were just trying to help,” I replied as he pulled the keys out of his pocket. He held them up for me, but I shook my head. “You drive back. I want to enjoy the change in scenery.”
West smiled at me before giving me a peck on the lips and double checking the pups harnesses. Where the weekend had started warm, today it was too cold to have the top down.
“So does this mean you’re not accepting my gift?” West asked as he started the car.
I sunk into the custom leather seats, running my fingers over the stitching. My gaze came up to West’s. His lips were in a stern line as he waited for my response with his hand on the shifter.
“You taking her back?” I asked with my eyebrows up, and the smiled returned to his face.
“Her?”
I patted the dash. “A car this pretty is definitely a girl.”
“For a beautiful girl?” West said, and his tone showed the question.
“I think I will call her Polly.”
West’s brows quirked. “Polly?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Walter and Sadie sitting next to Bagel and then looked at their human-father. The one who’d named them. He put his hands up.
“Point taken.”
We settled into the drive, but with each passing mile West seemed to tense. I reached over and squeezed his thigh. His head jerked liked he’d forgotten I was there.
“You okay?” I asked, and he loosened his death grip on the steering wheel.
“Yeah…of course,” he replied, and I blinked at him. He sighed. “Not looking forward to going back to reality…TV.”
“Only two more weeks, right?” I asked.
West licked his lips as he nodded. “Until filming is done, but then the show airs.”
“I thought you didn’t watch it?”
“Yeah, but people do. We’ll have to avoid being in public for a bit,” West replied with a deep exhale.
“Really?” I asked. A few people from time to time recognized him, but he’d never made a big deal about it or acted like it bugged him. He always took it in stride, posing for the pictures and then apologizing profusely to me since I was usually the person who was handed the phone to take them.
He inhaled through his nose, his shoulders lifting. “Like a hundred times what you’re used to. Some possible squealing teenagers involved. People ask if I’ll give them a free tattoo or showing me their hideous ones that they want covered up.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’d be surprised what people will show you. Just because I’m a tattoo artist doesn’t mean I want to see the Chinese symbol for soup that you accidentally got tattoed on your ass as a teenager instead of the right one for ‘luck’ or whatever the hell you thought was cool then,” he replied, totally serious, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not even joking. Talk about awkward.”
“Good news,” I replied, and his brows went up. I squeezed his hand. “I’m with you, so we can laugh about it together after.”
West let a small smile escape his lips and then turned quiet. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, and he ran his tongue across the inside of his cheek.
“You don’t plan on watching, do you?” he said, and his eyes remained on the road.
“Why?” I replied my voice layered with a tease. “Something on there you don’t want me to see?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, and my chest tightened.
That was exactly it.
His lips twitched before he shook his head. “That’s not it.”
“Really?” I asked, and his eyes stayed ahead as if he didn’t want to look at me. “West?”
His shoulders lifted. “They just like to make a lot of drama out of nothing. I’d rather you not get entangled in the bullshit.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “First you don’t want me there during filming, and now you don’t want me to watch it?”
His jaw clenched, and when he opened his mouth to speak, he didn’t seem to be able to find the words and closed it. I cocked my head at him, and he finally gave in.
“They pick and choose what they show. It’s all for entertainment value. I don’t want you to see something and make assumptions,” West said, and his eyes darted over to me, framed by his eyebrows in his intense worry.
I swallowed. “Okay, I trust you.”
“So you won’t watch it?” he asked again.
I nodded, and a relieved smile came to his lips. I tried to smile back, but my stomach twisted. There was definitely something that happened on the show that West didn’t want me to see. I did trust him, and I knew the way the show had always portrayed him as a lady’s man.
I glanced over my shoulder at him in all his David Beckham-like glory. The problem was he looked it. I glanced away, watching the scenery I wanted to see so much drift by without truly registering them. Adam had been the same way, except I knew him during those days. I knew the real Adam. I didn’t know the West before I came into the picture. I didn’t know if I’d changed him, or if the impression the media gave was always false. West’s hand found mine in my lap, and I looked over at him and his sincere smile.
The media didn’t know the real West.
I did.