From Morocco to Paris (26 page)

“How could you do that? How could you just fucking walk out? How could you be inside me, making love to me, and then fucking run out like that!” He whacked Zane in the shoulder with his fist.

“Hey!” Zane backed up. “How about we not have this fucking conversation in front of my brother?”

“Fuck him!” Davey leapt forward and punched Zane’s other shoulder. “And fuck
you
! How could you do that to me? You’re the most selfish, sniveling bastard on this fucking planet, I swear to God. All you care about is your goddamn pride.”

“Quit fucking hitting me!” Zane shoved him back. “Your fucking best friend walked in on us having sex. Does that not
bother
you at all?”

“He’s my best friend’!” Davey screamed. Zane flinched. “He’s not going to fucking tell anybody. Which is all you’re fucking concerned about. This is all about your goddamn ego and what makes
you
feel comfortable. What makes
you
happy!”

“Oh yes, and fuck all the progress I’ve made! How much I’ve fucking
given
you. And you’re pissed because I’m a little upset because someone caught us having sex?”

“I’m pissed because you walked out on me!” Davey’s eyes brimmed with tears. He looked as though he were about to attack again. “I asked you not to leave.” His voice cracked. “I asked you not to leave me.”

“I told you I needed a few minutes. I was going to come back. I had to pull my head together, and I did!” He looked desperately at Ian, who stood watching stoically, his arms crossed. “Tell him.”

Davey lurched forward, and Zane didn’t have time to block him. He had a hell of a right hook and his fist landed squarely on Zane’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the table behind him. Zane’s vision blurred for a second and then sharpened again as pain flooded in. At least Davey hadn’t hit him in the nose.

Ian didn’t move an inch, just winced.

“Fuck you,” Davey spat at Zane as he slumped against the table, blinking in shock. “Fuck you to hell.”

Davey turned and stormed back toward the door, wiping at his cheeks. Ian glanced at Zane and then went after him.

“Oh yeah, fucking go comfort him!” Zane slurred, tasting blood. “Fuck!” He rubbed his jaw and groaned, wondering if he’d loosened any teeth.

Davey and Ian disappeared inside, leaving Zane to lick his wounds.

Chapter 21

Elliot wasn’t pleased when Zane told him he couldn’t go to the set. He didn’t seem to believe Zane’s rather convoluted story about slipping on a newspaper and falling on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

“I’m telling you, it was insane,” Zane said, barely able to talk through his swollen jaw. “But I guess stranger things have happened.”

“Yes, they have,” Elliot said dryly. “But they usually don’t leave a mark like one has been punched. Have you been fighting with Davey again?”

“No, he did most of the fighting.”

Elliot wondered aloud, perhaps with a bit more than a simple desire to scare Zane, if he could replace him for the rest of filming.

Zane fetched some ice from the machine in the hallway and paced his room with a makeshift hand towel ice-pack pressed against his cheek. A knock sounded at the door. He feared Davey had come to punch him some more, but it was Ian.

“He’s pretty upset,” Ian said, watching Zane pace like a caged animal. “I think you’ve fucked it up for good this time.”

“Whatever.” His voice still came out slurred. “He got his parting shot. I can’t believe you just stood there and let him do it.”

“You fucking deserved it.”

“Just get the fuck out!” Zane stopped pacing and pointed at the door.

Ian fixed him with a complacent look and didn’t budge.

“Fuck you,” Zane said and started pacing again.

“I can’t fucking believe you. You’re such a goddamn fuck-up and you cling so tenaciously to it. That’s why you can’t even be forgiven.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? You just said it yourself! I fucked it up for good this time!”

“What should you
do
?” Ian stepped toward him, eyes flashing. “I can’t believe you don’t know. You should be at his door right now, beating it down,
begging
him to forgive you. All he wants is some sign you’re capable of caring about someone else more than you do yourself. That doesn’t require you to get up on a fucking podium and announce it to the world. And you can’t even give him that!”

“Why can’t he give me what
I
need? Some fucking patience!”

“Oh, God.” Ian looked upward. “Even Jesus fucking Christ Almighty Himself couldn’t give you the fucking patience you require. No matter how much time someone gives you, you’re never ready. You’re never happy!”

“I can’t change overnight, Ian!”

“It’s been three fucking months!”

Zane glared at him.

Ian turned away for a moment, seething, and then turned back. “I’ll be fucking blunt here, and you can mock me if you want to. But I would give -- “ he gritted his teeth, pointing in the general direction of Davey’s room, “ -- I would shave ten fucking years off my life for a man like that. For him. He’s brilliant and beautiful and unwaveringly fucking loyal. And you don’t deserve that. You’re an asshole, and all you do is hurt him.” He waved a hand. “All you do is hurt him.” His voice sounded strained.

They were silent for a few minutes, Ian standing with his hands on his hips, looking down, his hair obscuring his face. Zane stood with the towel against his cheek, cold engulfing his aching jaw.

“He’ll be gone soon,” Zane finally said. “Since the day I met him, he’s just been getting closer to being out of my life. That’s how this business works. You don’t understand, Ian.”

Ian looked up. His eyes were bright, but he wasn’t crying.

“And if I…” Zane went on, almost in a whisper, “…let myself feel too much for him, then when he goes, he’ll take my heart with him. It’s better this way.”

Ian gazed at him for a moment and then he spoke softly as well. “It’s a small world, Zane. I’m here, aren’t I? That’s why God made planes.”

“Yes, but if I let myself, I won’t be able to live a day without him. I don’t want to feel that way.” The words were heavy and they fell like stones from his mouth.

Ian studied him for a long moment and then stepped closer and wrapped his arms around him.

“Do me a favor,” Ian whispered against Zane’s shoulder. “Tell Davey what you just said to me. Please? He needs to hear it.”

Zane couldn’t tell him until everyone came back from the set, some hours later. By then the swelling had gone down in his jaw and his emotions had settled into a sickly sludge in the pit of his stomach. He’d done a lot of pacing, a lot of thinking, and underneath the black depression which had settled over him he felt a sense of urgency, the notion that if he didn’t act soon, everything really would come to an end. Even if he lost Davey, he didn’t want to lose him this way.

Ian informed him when Davey came back, and Zane plucked up his courage and went to his door.

Troy answered when he knocked. He looked wary.

“Is Davey here?” Zane asked. He couldn’t look Troy in the eye.

“Yeah, but…I don’t know if he wants to talk to you.”

Davey appeared over Troy’s shoulder. He wore jeans and a gray button-down shirt, his hair pulled back. He didn’t look happy to see Zane.

“Can I talk to you?” Zane asked, motioning out into the hallway. “Please?”

Davey just stood there. Troy looked distinctly uncomfortable. After a minute, Davey stepped out into the hallway.

“I’ll be right back,” Davey murmured. He closed the door behind him.

In the bright light of the hallway, Davey looked bedraggled, the whites of his eyes shot through with red. He stood in front of Zane, arms crossed, chin tilted up.

“I wanted -- “ Zane struggled to find the words. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. And -- you’ve heard me say I’m an asshole so many times I doubt it has much impact, but I am.”

“I can’t keep doing this,” Davey said. “I’ve been astonishingly dumb in taking it this long.”

“Why do you?” Zane asked, lowering his voice.

The look in Davey’s eyes changed, the surfaces filming over. “Because,” he said softly. “I love you.” His lower lip quivered, and he sucked it in. “Or I did.” He shrugged and looked away. “You’re not an easy man to love.”

“I know,” Zane whispered. “But thank you for even bothering to. For seeing something in me worth loving.”

Davey looked back at him. His eyes had gotten brighter.

“I know I’m a piece of shit, Davey. Someone like you doesn’t deserve someone like me.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I mean, you should have some great guy who’s proud to show you off to the world. Someone who isn’t afraid of his feelings. Someone like Ian.”

“I don’t want Ian,” Davey said. “I want to know why you think you’re not good enough for me. Why you think I’m so damn good in the first place. And if I’m so fucking good,” his voice rose, “why the fuck you can’t bring yourself to love me back.”

“I know you don’t want excuses, and you shouldn’t take them. But -- “ He thought of his words to Ian. “I’ve been scared, every moment since I met you, of feeling too much for you.”

“Why? A second ago I was so fucking good.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Zane took a deep breath, steeling himself. “See, in a few weeks, you’ll be gone. Maybe forever. I’ve been at this for a while. I’ve forgotten people’s names, or what they were like when I knew them. I don’t want you to be a footnote in the story of my life.”

“You’re making me one by not allowing yourself to feel for me. Don’t you see, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy? You don’t want to love me so you won’t have to forget me. And your answer to that is to forget me? How does that make sense?”

“I just -- I don’t want to hurt like that.”

“You don’t want to love, and you don’t want to hurt. Do you want to feel anything at all? How empty your life must be, afraid of every emotion.”

“And how chaotic yours must be, so full of it you suck everyone in with you.” He didn’t speak accusingly but with a sort of reverence.

Davey tilted his head, looking at him with the kind of surety Zane would never experience himself. “I may suck everyone in, but at least I’m never alone.”

Zane studied him for a moment, and then reached out and touched his cheek gently, dragging his knuckles across his cheekbone. Davey flinched, his throat working.

“I wish I was a better person,” Zane said softly. “How beautiful we could have been.”

Davey blinked several times and then turned his face to Zane’s hand; he took it in one of his own and pressed his lips to his palm. He whispered, “I think you do feel, you feel so strongly you’re numb to it.” A tear slipped down his cheek, glittering in the light. He looked back at Zane, his eyes wet and soft. “Maybe I’m the bad person, because I couldn’t change you.”

Zane drew his hand away and pulled Davey into his arms, pressing his face against his shoulder. Davey wrapped his arms around him, clinging.

“Davey.” Zane lifted his head and whispered against his ear. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I don’t either.” Davey’s voice shook. “I don’t know how to make it work, and I don’t know how to walk away from it.”

Zane squeezed him tighter. “I do feel, even if I try to ignore it.”

“I know,” Davey whispered. “That’s why I keep taking it.”

Zane drew back and looked into his eyes. Gazing into those wounded blue depths an emotion swept over him, so powerful and debilitating he could do nothing but obey his instincts. His heart raced. Davey gazed at him hopefully.

“It probably doesn’t make a bit of difference now, I’ve fucked things up so badly.” Zane drew a shaky breath. “But I lo -- “

“Zane? Davey?”

They both looked up and quickly stepped away from each other. Rory stood in the hallway, his coat on, cheeks red as if he had just come from outside. He wore a confused expression, looking first at Zane, then at Davey.

“Rory,” Davey said. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. “What’s up?”

“Have you talked to Elliot?” Rory directed the question at Zane. Zane realized he looked -- and sounded -- worried.

“I don’t think Elliot’s talking to me right now,” Zane said. Dread blossomed in his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Cristiano’s been taken to the hospital.”

Zane and Davey looked at each other in surprise.

“He wasn’t on set,” Davey said, looking back at Rory. “What happened?”

“Was there an accident?” Zane asked.

“No.” Rory hesitated. “As far as anyone knows, he…OD’ed. On purpose.”

Zane stared at him. He had to struggle to form words. “He tried to kill himself?”

“My God, why?” Davey asked, high-pitched.

“Where’s he at?” Zane asked. “Where did they take him?”

“The American Hospital. It’s in Neuilly-sur-Seine.”

Zane rushed to his room to grab his jacket while Davey went to get his. Ian sat in Zane’s room, as he’d promised to wait for him and hear the outcome.

“Well?” Ian looked anxiously at him.

“We have to go to the hospital!”

Ian got up swiftly from the sofa. “What’s going on? Did something happen to Davey?”

“No. Cristiano tried to kill himself!” Zane found his knit cap and jammed it on his head. “Christ, I can’t believe this!”

“What!” Ian followed him out the door.

They met up with Davey in the hallway, Troy still standing there looking confused and out of place.

“Let’s go,” Davey said. “We’ll use the GPS on my phone to find it. Fucking Christ, what the hell brought this on?”

“I’ll tell you on the way to the hospital,” Zane said.

Davey looked around at Troy. “Will you be all right here at the hotel by yourself for a while?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” He waved them off. “Call me.”

Zane pressed a hand into the small of Davey’s back as they went.

Chapter 22

In the oppressively quiet little waiting area, Zane could hear the clock tick above the window of the nurses’ station. The stark, bright light on the white walls made him uneasy, and the silence made him want to crawl out of his skin. Davey sat next to him, a comforting presence, the only thing keeping him in place.

Elliot leaned against the wall next to the nurses’ station window. His clenched hand rested beneath his nose, a crumpled-up tissue in his fist. His eyes were red and wet and he stared dully at the floor.

The seconds ticked by, sharp clicks in the looming silence.

Finally, Zane couldn’t stand the tension. He got up and went down the hallway and out into a little courtyard they’d passed on their way to the waiting room. Davey followed.

“This is my fault,” Zane said. His hands trembled as he lit a cigarette.

“This is not your fault.” Davey tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “How the hell is it
your
fault?”

Zane told him about the conversation with Cristiano the day before and finished with, “I’m the reason he betrayed Elliot.”

“He made his own choices.” Davey looked around the courtyard. The small area was populated with several concrete benches and tables, a slender tree rising in the middle. “There’s more going on here than a breakup.” He looked back at Zane.

“I should have been a better friend. I should have said something positive to him yesterday.”

“Zane.” Davey stepped closer. “This goes far deeper than what happened between the two of you. People don’t attempt suicide over one little drunken incident. I think we’ll find out a lot more soon enough.”

Zane looked down and took a drag off his cigarette, hand still trembling. “If he survives.”

“He’ll survive.”

After Zane finished his cigarette, they went back inside. Davey looked at him as they walked down the hallway.

“Maybe you should have that looked at while we’re here,” he said, referring to Zane’s jaw.

“Nah, I think I’ll bear it. Battle wound.”

“I’m sorry, you know.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Back in the waiting area, they sat down again, and Zane looked over at Davey. His long lashes brushed against his cheeks as he glanced down, and Zane’s heart unexpectedly swelled. He reached over and squeezed Davey’s hand. Davey looked up and smiled gently, a faint blush creeping across his cheekbones. Zane glanced at Ian, sitting across from them, who returned a weak smile.

Elliot sniffed and drew a deep sigh. He sought Zane out with his gaze, eyes red-rimmed and shining in the light. Zane swallowed and shifted.

“You said he talked to you yesterday,” Elliot said, his voice thick.

Zane just nodded.

“What did he say? Did he give any indication he was going to do this?”

“No.” Zane sunk into the chair. He felt Davey’s hand tighten around his. “He just -- told me you guys broke up.”

Elliot walked over in front of him, and Zane reluctantly looked up.

“I can’t believe he did this.” Elliot shook his head and swallowed.

“Who found him?” Davey asked softly.

“The paramedics. He called and told me he did it, and I called for help. I couldn’t get into his room before they came, the door was locked. God, I was fucking hysterical.” He pressed the tissue to his eyes and choked out a sob.

Zane looked down.

“He didn’t really want to die then,” Davey said. “Most people who attempt suicide don’t. They’re just reaching out for help.”

Elliot drew a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t understand why we broke up. He wouldn’t tell me -- he’s been acting weird for weeks. I just don’t get it.”

The immense guilt churning in Zane’s gut pushed upward into his throat. He opened his mouth. “I know why he’s been weird, Elliot.”

Elliot looked at him in surprise, startled out of his tears. Davey gripped Zane’s hand tighter.

“Zane, don’t,” he murmured.

“He should know,” Zane said.

“What?” Elliot’s voice rose. “What happened?”

“You remember the night we all went out, in Cairo?” Zane fully realized Rory stood only a few feet away, but he didn’t care. “When Ian first came to visit, and Cristiano got drunk?”

“Yes.”

“After you fell asleep that night, he came to my room.”

“Zane,” Davey said softly.

Elliot looked confused. “He did?”

“Yes. We didn’t fuck. It didn’t get that far, because Davey showed up. But he wanted to -- and I was going to. He’s been upset about it ever since. That’s why we haven’t been talking.”

“But that’s not the reason he did this,” Davey added quickly. “You know him better than the rest of us, Elliot. Surely you have some idea what’s going on in his head. People don’t try to take their lives over one little drunk incident.”

Elliot stared at Zane. Zane held his breath, waiting. He hoped Elliott didn’t sock him in the face; he’d already suffered enough abuse in that area.

“I’m sorry,” Zane said. “I’m really, truly sorry.”

“He’s a drug addict,” Elliot said.

Zane stared at him for a moment, and then looked at Davey, who also stared at Elliot, mouth open.

“W-what?” Zane asked.

“He’s a drug addict,” Elliot repeated, with bitterness. “You’re telling me you don’t know that? You’ve never noticed? Coke, mostly. But other things, too. A little bit of heroin now and then. Pills, a lot. That’s what he OD’ed on. I’ve been trying to help him, trying to convince him to go to rehab when filming is over.”

Zane looked at Davey again. “I -- no!” Zane said. “I never…” He trailed off. He had, actually. Memories flew back. The party in the suite, yes, but other things, things he’d been ignoring or passing off. Cristiano blowing his nose in the bathroom at Alfy Bey. All the times he’d looked inexplicably dazed and bright-eyed. Definitely, the drunken night in Cairo. Even the morning in Morocco, when they were all in bed, he’d gone to the bathroom and come back looking flushed…

“That explains a lot of things,” Davey said. “Not just this, but some of the other behavior I’ve seen from him.”

Elliot turned without another word and walked off down the hallway. Zane wanted to go after him, but he still had to process the shock. Rory stood against the wall, watching him go. Ian looked stunned.

“Christ,” Zane said and dropped his head in his hands.

***

Word finally came that Cristiano would live. The doctors moved him from emergency to the psych ward. They all stuck around for a while but finally decided nothing could be done by hanging out all night, and he wasn’t allowed visitors. Zane tried to find Elliot before he left, but he wasn’t around and he didn’t answer his phone.

Driving through the late-night streets back to the hotel, Zane gazed out the window, watching the lights slide by. Ian drove, Rory up front with him, Zane and Davey in the back. No one spoke.

Zane looked away from the window and over at Davey. He was turned so he faced Zane, head resting on the back of the seat. Zane tingled when he saw those blue eyes focused on him. Davey smiled, almost imperceptibly. Zane reached over, found Davey’s hand in the folds of his jacket on his lap and squeezed. Davey smiled wider and blinked a few times.

Zane realized he had given Davey reason to kill himself ten times over. He thought about the party in Marrakech and Davey doing coke. He had every reason to destroy himself, too. And yet, Davey wasn’t the one in the hospital, because he had faith. The weight of the revelation crashed through the layers of fear and insecurity Zane had built up over the years, like floors of a very tall building.

At the hotel, outside Davey’s door, they stopped, gazing at each other, in the same spot where they’d gotten the news. The silence wrapped around them like a blanket.

The weight finally drove Zane to his knees. Kneeling on the hallway floor with his arms around Davey’s waist, his face pressed against Davey’s stomach, he sobbed as he’d sobbed on Ian in Cairo. Davey gripped his hair.

“God is so fucking crafty,” Davey said, voice shaking. “You wait ‘til I see that motherfucker, I’m gonna punch Him in the face.”

Saul announced later that night production would cease for a week. Elliot needed a break -- they all did, really -- and the movie needed a new key costumer.

Zane gave Ian his credit card and told him he wanted to go home for a few days. Ian said he would make all the arrangements.

Hours later, Zane lay staring at the canopy above his bed, the first glow of dawn leaking in the windows, the mirror behind the bed projecting the light. The sound of the city outside barely invaded the quiet bubble.

A gentle shifting under the covers drew his attention. Davey slid a hand over Zane’s belly and rested it just above his navel.

“Come to Kentucky with me?” Zane asked. “Meet my family?”

Silence for a moment, then Davey shifted again and lifted his head, his face shadowy in the dull light, hair trailing tangled over his shoulders. Zane gazed at him, unable to see his eyes clearly, but imagining them vividly.

“You really want me to?” Davey asked softly.

“Yes.” Zane lifted his hand and slid his fingers across Davey’s cheek. “I want you with me. I need to go home. I’m so fucking raw from all of this. From everything. I just need to see my mother and sister again. Realign myself.”

Davey turned his face and kissed Zane’s palm. “Of course I’ll go with you. Troy won’t mind going home early. He’s got a lot to do back in San Francisco.” He chuckled gently. “You know, he’s not freaked out. He even said you and I make a cute couple.”

“Did he?” The incident seemed long ago; so much had filled the space between.

“Don’t worry, he won’t tell anyone.”

“I know he won’t. I’m so sorry I acted the way I did. That I walked out on you.”

“Shh.” Davey lifted his hand from Zane’s stomach and pressed a finger to his lips. “You’ve made your apologies in full, trust me.”

“I keep fucking up, and you keep forgiving me. You really are good. How did I manage to get someone like you?”

“You just needed to find the right idiot.”

Zane slid a hand up into Davey’s hair, silken strands flowing between his fingers. “I think my momma is gonna like you.”

They attempted to sleep, but sleep didn’t come. Zane finally slipped on top of Davey. They made love, quiet and intense. Davey locked his arms around Zane’s flexing lower back. The growing light seeping in the windows cast a soft glow over them, over Davey’s face. His eyelids were heavy, his eyes dark in the shadows behind them.

“Do you feel that?” Davey whispered, stroking his fingertips across Zane’s parted lips.

Zane didn’t need to ask what he meant, he just nodded, the sensation overwhelming the ability to speak.

In the buzzing aftermath, sweat-damp and pressed against each other, Zane trembled. He had burst through some barrier and into a different plane.

“You all right?” Davey whispered.

“No. I’m fucking scared to death.”

“I know.” Davey’s breath ghosted against his neck. “You don’t have to change who you are, though.”

“I already have.”

They watched the sunrise together, the light changing from dull blue to yellow-white. Wrapped up in the blankets, in each other, Zane knew he was safe. Outside their little cocoon, fears lurked and insecurities waited, but he would deal with them, one by one.

“Tell me about Kentucky,” Davey murmured. His fingers were curled against Zane’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder. “I’ve never been there.”

“My momma lives in Hopkinsville. It’s pretty much like any big town. But when you go out into the countryside, it’s really nice.”

“Is it green?”

“Yes. Lots of farmland. Goes on for miles. It’s…majestic.”

“Vast.”

“Astonishing.”

“Breathtaking.”

“Yes.” Zane chuckled. “And all kinds of other impressive adjectives.”

They were silent again, Zane watching the light spread across the bed. He had barely slept in twenty-four hours, but he wasn’t tired, just floaty, suspended above the earth, above reality.

Davey tilted his face up and gazed at Zane. “You’re glowing,” he said.

“No.” Zane tightened his arms around him. “It’s just the sunrise.”

“No,” Davey whispered. “It’s not.”

Chapter 23

“Home sweet home!” Zane declared.

Davey ducked his head and looked out the front window of the car. “There?” He pointed at the two-story house with blue siding and a white slat board fence around a small yard. Ian pulled the car into the cracked cement driveway.

“Yes,” Zane said. He was sitting in the back and Davey up front. “God, I feel like I haven’t been here in forever,” Zane said. Two years had passed, actually.

“This is so weird,” Davey said, looking around. The quiet little neighborhood was populated with gardens -- out of bloom, but still green -- and small, simple houses in neat rows.

“Why’s it weird?” Zane grabbed his duffel bag from the floor. “It’s just a normal little house in a normal little neighborhood.”

“Exactly. That’s why it’s so weird this is where you come from.”

“Did you think I was born in a cornfield or something?”

“I figured you were born in a bar, actually.”

“I’ll go see Momma at the store and pick her and Essie up,” Ian said. He turned and extended his arm over the back seat, holding his leather-gloved hand out. “I take tips for chauffeuring.”

Zane smirked. “Tell Momma I said hello and I can’t wait to see her.”

“For secretarial duties as well.”

“Don’t drive your brother around; there’s a tip,” Zane said.

Zane and Davey got out of the car and walked up the driveway to the garage as Ian pulled out behind them.

“My momma is the assistant manager at the grocery store,” Zane told Davey. “My sister Essie works there too, as a clerk.”

“Your sister’s name is Essie?”

Zane punched the code into the keypad next to the garage door. He remembered the numbers easily. “Short for Esmeralda.”

Davey stood beside him, rocking on his heels. “Zane, Ian, and Esmeralda,” he said. “Those don’t sound like hick names. Why aren’t you named Jim Bob, Joe Bob, and Betty Sue Bob?”

Zane grinned as the garage door lurched and started to roll up. “My Momma’s
really
into romance novels. Can’t say I blame her.” His smile fell away. “The marriage she had.”