Teacher: Act Two (A Hollywood Rock n' Romance Trilogy Book 2) (28 page)

Two months prior...

End of August 2013

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with me! Where's the strong, confident Jesse who stood up to Her Hungarian Highness that day on Melrose? Where's the assertive Jesse who told off Danny's ex-wife when she insulted him about not having a diploma?"
This Jesse was currently cowering in the bathroom in Danny's room, feeling unworthy, and considering giving up on a nearly perfect love with a complicated man.

After a tumultuous week where we travelled back to our homes to meet each other’s parents, things were fantastic between Danny and I. He made it clear to both sets of parents that he planned on marrying me and had even shared the news with his amazing daughter Jane. We’d gone to a wedding today for the daughter of Danny’s producer and it should have been another of our best days. Instead, I’d stupidly gone without food all day and only picked at my dinner because I was hot and feeling a little off.

Unfortunately, Danny’s ex, former A-list actress Brooke Jones, took this moment to make a grand entrance. The stress of her reaction to seeing Danny and I together and not just as student-teacher, and the reaction of the Mannings’ mother Grace to seeing Brooke brought my happiness crashing down. I’d begged Alex’s sister to drive me home and then arrived to find myself locked out of the house and physically a disaster. Danny had come home to find me passed out on the porch. Now, after purging what little had actually made it into my stomach, I was shaking and angry with my behavior.

"Snap the fuck out of it," I shouted at the sniveling woman in the mirror. "Who the hell is Brooke Jones or Grace Manning to tell you whether you are worthy of Danny?! One thing's for sure, if you run away, you're going to lose the best thing that ever happened to you." I turned and threw up in the toilet one more time. I was washing my face when I heard Danny clear his throat.

Embarrassed, I turned to him, wiping the last of my tears away. I threw back my shoulders and faced him. "How much of that did you hear?"

He uncrossed his arms and stepped over to the counter, leaning his hips against it and looking at me, curiously. "All of it." I dropped my head and he took a deep breath. "Were you really going to run away? Are you leaving me," he asked in a cracked voice.

I touched his hand that rested on the counter and then pulled back. "No. Not really. I just panicked, Danny! When I got back here and I couldn't get in, I felt lost. It was one more reminder that I'm an outsider in your life, and as much as we love each other, there's always going to be someone or something trying to keep us apart. I didn't feel strong enough to fight anymore. I never told you this, but there's this cop that patrols around here that's stopped me a couple of times and given me a hard time for being here. It always seems to happen when I am feeling a little nervous about moving things forward with you. And every time I have let him know I belonged here, with you, and he let me go. I don't know what happened today, but the more upset I got, the more physically sick I became. I felt like me being there was making it worse for you, like if Brooke hadn't seen me, you wouldn't have had a fight with her."

I took a deep breath and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, no longer able to stand. Danny watched me, then slid down next to me. He still didn't speak, just stared at me. I took another deep breath and continued.

"A major difference between you and me is that I've never had to deal with anyone's obstacles other than my own. I've always fought for everything I had. I don't know why I thought our relationship was going to be any different from the challenges I've faced before. So as soon as I can quit throwing up, I intend to fight for you. For Jane. For us. That is, if you still want me to."

And with that, the digestive pyrotechnics continued. I heaved so hard I was afraid to open my eyes because I just knew some internal organs had to be sitting in the bottom of the toilet. So not a dignified way to end such a statement.

I felt his strong arms come around me, supporting me and holding my hair. When I finally stopped, he started the tub. He waited until the water was warm enough before he pulled my dress off over my head, took off my undergarments, and helped me up.

"Brush teeth first," I whispered.

He handed me my toothbrush and pasted it for me. I brushed until I thought my gums had probably been scraped off. I just wanted to scrub this whole horrid experience away. I rinsed and let Danny help me into the tub.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly, and stood to leave.

I heaved a big sigh, too tired to cry anymore. I felt like every nerve in my body was exposed, completely raw. I started to reach for the soap and Danny beat me to it. He'd gone to change out of his suit and was now just in his black boxer briefs. He took the bottle of body wash and squirted some in his hands, urging me to kneel just for a moment so he could wash all of me. He worked his way down to my toes, massaging my legs and feet. When he was finished, he grabbed the shampoo from the shower, used the hand held nozzle, and washed and conditioned my hair. When it was done, he towel dried the mass and wrapped it up. I rested my head back and closed my eyes. I sensed him moving and opened one eye to find him sitting on the edge of the tub, gazing down at me.

"I would have understood if you left. I kept getting angry and frustrated with you when it felt like you weren't moving at the pace I thought we should. I felt like you were holding back, like you didn't care enough. And the whole time you kept worrying you were going to be a problem for me, I would get mad and tell you to stop worrying. What I didn't see was what all you were taking on by getting involved with me. I have a fucked up ex-wife. I have a beautiful, but troubled daughter. I'm surrounded by people who expect a lot of shit from me. You are the first person in so long that didn't expect something from me, and I took it for granted. I thought if I just didn't worry about the other shit, and if you didn't worry about it, it would just go away. But it's not going to go away." His shoulders bunched up and he pulled at his lip.

"Brooke was there tonight to stir up shit. She's definitely using, and when I confronted her about it, she got really fucking nasty. She started screaming at me. Her fiancé, Oliver, or whatever the fuck his name is, had to carry her out. She made a huge scene. Grace came running up, apologizing, said she didn't know Brooke was in such bad shape, blah blah blah. I feel awful for Trina and Elliot, but Ron assured me they were fine. They wanted to leave early for their honeymoon anyway, but I still feel terrible. Then I got to thinking about how much shit you've had to deal with because of me, and I just wanted to fucking hit something! I looked all over for you until Alex told me Rebecca had taken you home. I was relieved momentarily, thinking at least you hadn't seen all that. Then I saw your purse with your wrap and I..."

He put his head in his hands and took a couple of shaky breaths. He sat like that for a long time. When he finally spoke, he said, "I was so afraid you wouldn't be here when I got back, and I wouldn't have blamed you if you weren’t."

I unplugged the drain and got to my feet, not without some effort. I stood before Danny and said, "Will you get me a towel?"

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and nodded. He dried me off, wrapped the towel around me, and led me to his bed, where he hesitated.

"Will you sleep with me, Jesse? You don't have to tell me if we're ok-"

I grabbed his face and kissed him firmly. "I'm going to operate under the assumption that what you said to me when I moved in here, that you were 'never fucking letting me go,' is still in effect. You'll need to correct me if I'm mistaken."

He blinked once and fell to his knees, his arms around my waist. "I don't want to lose you, Jesse. Please tell me you'll stay."

I gently pulled his arms away from me and let the towel fall to the floor. I grabbed his t-shirt he'd worn earlier, slipping it over my head. I lifted the covers and crawled into bed, holding my arms out for him to join me. Which he did. And he held me all night.

We spent the next week, starting Sunday, with him in the studio all day. He'd have breakfast with Jane, leave until 10:00 or 11:00 at night, and then we'd talk and hold each other. We both needed this time to work out some things with alone and together. Some nights our discussions got heated, and we never really resolved anything, but we still held each other every night.