We had talked about going out to dinner with Lynn and Harry, both of whom were with us at The Cara Peterson Show, but I just didn’t have it in me. Perpetrating a ruse I was engaged to my first true love was about the most mentally exhausting thing I’d done in a long time.
It wasn’t so hard letting the lies come forth. The story was pretty straightforward and based so much in truth because of how we reconnected that at least it felt realistic.
The hard part was sitting there with Kynan’s arm around my shoulder, his thumb tenderly rubbing against my shoulder in perhaps a show of being supportive and nurturing. He’d issued a challenge to my stalker when he’d stared right in the camera and threatened him—and Cara and the audience practically swooned.
The worst part was how genuine Kynan sounded. Cara was so taken with his British accent and his alpha-protective charm I barely was asked any other questions during the interview. It became The Kynan McGrath Show, and the man knows how to put on the charm. It seemed so natural and genuine when he told her how deeply he loved me all these years and how he had never been able to move on.
He was smooth when Cara asked him why we’d broken up. He waved it off to youth and stupidity and left it at that.
Kynan kissed me at the end of the segment, then he held my hand the entire way to the dressing room. I didn’t even want to bother getting into my jeans, eager to put the entire thing behind me because let’s face it… he sounded so convincing, my heart was starting to respond. I started wondering… could we have something?
Yeah… my head was a mess and I was tired, so I declined dinner with Lynn and Harry. Instead, I opted for my favorite pizza. Kynan was quiet as he normally tends to be, but he still held my hand the entire way out of the studio and to my car since he’d driven us to the studio in it.
He opened the passenger door for me, but before I could slide in, he put his hand around the nape of my neck and gave it a squeeze. Adding to my confusion he bent his head and murmured, “You did great, Joslyn. I think we set the trap.”
His face was so close to mine. With his eyes like warm pools of concern and care, I thought he was going to kiss me for real.
But he didn’t.
He merely smiled and gestured for me to get in.
Now, my current game plan is to get out of these booties because while they look killer, they are torture on my feet. After that, I’m going to remove my bra, put on a t-shirt and sweatshirt, along with my favorite pair of beat-up sweatpants, then I’m going to gorge on pizza and wine. I will hopefully drink enough I can fall into a catatonic sleep instead of playing every nuance of Kynan’s words and actions over and over again.
In my bedroom, I head to my closet. It’s massive and decadent, with all the clothing and shoes on the perimeter shelves. In the center, I have a free-standing square dresser with a granite top that holds my lingerie and jewelry. After plopping onto a small tufted chair inside, I take off the booties and groan as my toes sink into the plush carpeting. I sit there a moment, my mind immediately wandering to the Cara Peterson interview and the kind and loving things Kynan had said about me.
Lies, right?
With a sigh, I force myself out of the chair. I have pizza and wine waiting, so I remove my jewelry—earrings, necklace, and rings—and put them all back in their proper places.
My eye catches on a blue sapphire ring nestled in a velvet trough in one of the drawers. It’s huge, emerald cut, and so big I rarely wear it. I had bought it for myself when I won my first Grammy, but that was years ago. I doubt I’ve worn in three times since.
I slide it onto the ring finger on my left hand. Cara Peterson had hounded Kynan once he announced we were engaged over the fact I hadn’t been wearing an engagement ring. I immediately jumped to his defense, telling Cara I had chosen not to wear it until we had officially announced our engagement but since the cat was out of the bag, I’d have to put it on.
This would work.
I hold my hand out, look at the sparkling facets, and hate the deep pit of longing within the middle of my stomach. I want this for myself—not for it to be a sham.
And not necessarily with Kynan, although I suspect that might be a lie. Again, quite confused over all these feelings. It had occurred to me recently I’ve shied away from relationships. Lynn called me on the carpet yesterday. Truthfully, what I thought was a betrayal by the man I loved had warped the way I viewed the possibility of true love.