I breathed a sigh of relief but it didn’t seem to last long. Twenty minutes later I watched as he roamed around our bedroom, obviously on a frantic hunt.
“You put your watch in the bag inside your suitcase.” I pointed, knowing what he was looking for.
“How did you . . . ? Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled.
I thought about saying something witty back to him but I refrained. He had been in his own private foul mood ever since lunch, when Marla called his attention to all the slams that he received from the press this morning. Ryan emphatically stated that he didn’t care about the negative comments, but it was obvious that he did.
Instead of sitting and relaxing, Ryan paced. The more he paced and the closer it came time for us to leave, the more agitated he seemed to become. He picked his suit jacket up and then immediately set it back down, only to pick it right back up again.
Then he patted his pockets, checking that he had his cell phone for the umpteenth time.
I was putting my lipstick in my small evening bag when Ryan breathed out forcefully.
“Is it hot in here?” He started pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck and I noticed he looked a little pale.
I shook my head. I actually thought the room was cold.
He wiped some moisture from his brow.
“I’m freaking sweating.”
I was started to think that it was more than the temperature that was making him sweat. “Are you feeling sick?”
“A little. I sort of feel lightheaded, actually. Man it’s hot in here.” His breathing became labored and he was turning white.
Oh, no. Not now.
I did the first thing I could think of—I got him air.
Ryan was leaning on the wall absorbing the full blast of the air-conditioning vent when our family and friends convened in our suite.
Ellen peeked around one of our bedroom’s double doors. “What’s wrong with Ryan?” I tried to prevent her from hovering by blocking her entry. “He’s feeling a little queasy,” I lied. “He’ll be all right. He just needs a minute.”
I had seen Ryan like this before and I knew exactly what was happening. Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he was quietly freaking out. I was also wise enough to know what it was that brought it on.
“He’ll be down when he’s ready,” I said to David when he poked his nose around the door. I didn’t mean to get snippy with him, but Ryan didn’t need anyone snapping their fingers at him right now. It’s not like anxiety attacks have an exact timetable. I was glad when Mike took over and cleared everyone out of our suite.
I rubbed Ryan’s back and shoulders. The first time I’d seen him like this was when the street and sidewalks outside my pub were crowded with fans.
“You okay?”
Ryan’s head dipped, slowly swaying his assent; he was breathing heavily.
My heart ached for him, knowing his private suffering. “Mike will be by your side the entire time. You know he won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know,” he whispered, trying to measure his breathing. “But things are different now.”
“You’ve done this countless times before.
You’re going to be just fine. Your fans adore you.”
“It’s not me that I’m worried about.” He shook out his hands. “You have no idea. No idea. You don’t know how easy it is for someone in the crowd to just stick out a knife or a needle or a . . . or a gun . . . God, if something ever happened to you—” I knew he was deep in the panic stage now. “Hey, come on. Just breathe with me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and paced each breath—slowly in, slowly out—hoping that this would calm him like it did the last time. “No one is going to hurt us.”
He cinched his hands around my arms, almost too hard, and glared down at me. “We share the world with lunatics, Taryn. You’ve seen how far some of my fans are willing to go, so don’t tell me there is no threat! Angelica was just one of hundreds.” I gasped a little. I think he realized how hard he was gripping me. His hands eased slightly. “I want you to stick tight to the event security tonight. If they tell you to move or go you listen, okay? No questions. You follow their orders. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not kidding, Tar. You’ve never experienced this. It’s going to be a shock. You’ve never seen crowds like this. If shit goes down, security is going to block me from getting to you.” Something new, something frighteningly alarming, coated his expression. This was beyond panic. His possessive grasp tightened again. “They will be in my way and I won’t be able to protect you myself and Mike will be—”