INFINITE Read online

  “All right.” It’s what I say, but how on earth am I ever going to let Becca go?

  “The sheet, the one beneath me is showing,” Becca stammers.

  “That’s okay. The black sheet represents Hale’s dark past, how he faced it, and how he’s now able to leave it all behind. Now, close your eyes, Becca. No, too much. You’re scrunching. Better. Better. Nice!”

  Click.

  Click. Click.

  The sounds of the camera continue.

  But all I know is Becca . . . How good she feels against me and how I never want to let her go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Becca

  My hands are shaking so badly, it takes me a while to get dressed. I’m hoping it’s adrenaline from the intensity of the shoot or what remains of my nervousness. I shake out my hands, pausing when I realize I’m still wearing the ring.

  No, this quivering has nothing to do with adrenaline. It’s everything I felt during that shoot. And everything Hale made that moment become.

  He was so fearless, abandoning doubt and hesitation as easily as he did that robe. He stripped himself bare to me, different from when we were at the penthouse. There, he’d tossed his clothes as if I didn’t matter. Today, he rid himself of what we were and embraced everything that’s coming. Goodness, everything.

  I saw the muscles that stretched along his spine and arms. But I didn’t see much more, although I wanted to.

  I should probably be ashamed of how badly I want to see him naked. It’s the right thing to do. The proper thing. I drop my hand and sigh. I must be insane. Of course, I want to see him naked.

  My only comfort is that if Nana June were still alive, she’d probably applaud me for showing what piddly restraint I managed. Except it wasn’t exactly for my sake or Hale’s. I just couldn’t move.

  Awestruck is the best way I can describe myself then. Hale’s masculine persona robbed that room of time and space. It was only when Tootles instructed Hale to turn away that I could remove my robe and join him in bed.

  Hale kissed me. To him, I wasn’t merely a prop and this was no longer about saving his reputation. He kissed me like the lover I was supposed to become all those years ago. Each pass of his lips and gentle nibbles were a reckoning I never saw coming.

  My fingers leave my lips, remembering how it felt to have Hale claim them with sweet aggression. He was making me his. God help me, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive.

  I’m barely able to snap my jeans closed. From the foyer, I hear Tootles’ light tenor voice, assuring Hale he took a wide array of shots and that he’ll select the best for the spread. If he doesn’t like what he sees when he and I work on the layout, he may schedule another session.

  “I have the cover for certain,” Tootles says.

  “Already?” Hale questions.

  Tootles claps, excited. “Yes, I knew what it was the moment we snapped it. Should I tell you?”

  “Why not?” Hale says.

  He sounds distracted. Maybe worried. Neesa called shortly after we were done. He disappeared into the walk-in closet to dress and speak with her. Whatever it is, I’ll help him through it. I’ll do anything to help us grow closer.

  I cuss when it takes me a moment to buckle my belt. Why can’t I stop my hands from shaking?

  “It’s the one of you sitting on the beach in your suit. The black one,” Tootles continues. Unlike me, he’s very much in control. “The linen was okay, but not Vogue or Forbes. Do you want to know which one I’m talking about? Your feet were partially buried in the sand. Your tie was loose and the top two buttons of your shirt were open. You couldn’t see what I saw, but I know you’ll just love it.”

  Hale chuckles. “If you say so.”

  “I think the open bottle of champagne sticking out of the sand was a nice touch and your head bowed was fabulous. No matter what, I’ve got you. Becca and I will take care of you.”

  I shove my feet into one of my shoes, waiting for Hale to say something that will give me a better indication of his mood.

  “But my favorite shots weren’t of the beach. Oh, no, no, no,” Tootles says. “Those shots with you and Becca were more D&G and Calvin Klein. Racy, sexy. I loved every minute of it.”

  I push my foot into the other shoe. I loved every minute of Hale and me, too. Even the scary one when I first approached him.

  My phone rings where I tossed it on the bed. I’ve taken two calls since I ran in here but ignored the last few texts. Four were from my fake-ex Denver telling me to call him. One was from Mr. Singleton demanding to know where I am. It’s only because I see Trin’s bright smile flash across the screen that I answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” she says brightly. “How’s it going?”

  “I got naked with Hale and made out with him on the bed while a photographer captured every pornographic and sinful second on camera.”

  A dramatic pause follows. I fall onto the bed, waiting for the response I expect.

  “You showed Hale your titties?”

  Yup. That was more or less the one.

  “Not exactly,” I reply.

  “Were you naked or not?” she demands. “You said you were naked. Are you now taking it all back? You can’t take something like that back without telling me to sit down or something.”

  “Fine. Sit down or something.”

  “Becca!”

  I kick my feet, all the nervous energy I have left in my hands streaming downward. “Look. It wasn’t something we’d planned. Maybe.”

  “Maybe? You said you were doing a photo shoot for a magazine. I was picturing Better Homes and Gardens not Maxim meets Big ‘Uns.”

  “Um,” I offer.

  “Callahan,” she calls. “Can you take the baby? . . . What? . . . Oh, I’m fine. Becca was just in bed naked with Hale . . . of course, I’m serious . . . yeah, I saw it coming, too . . . mmm-hmm, no surprise there . . . What? . . . No, I won’t mind my own business. I’ve been waiting years for this . . . fine . . . fine. I’ll leave her alone after she finishes giving me all the details. Something about midget wrestlers body slamming each other during all their nakedness. There was also some kind of circus fellow, twirling fire or something . . . what? . . . Callahan Sawyer, I do not sound crazy . . . those were her exact words . . . no, no . . . that’s a lie. I’ve never exaggerated the truth in my whole life . . . I can prove it . . . some other guy took pictures and everything.”

  I drape an arm across my eyes. “Trin,” I groan.

  “One minute, Becks, just turning the baby over so you can tell me every last dirty and disgusting detail surrounding your sordid afternoon. But before we get started, were there pirates involved or any kinky stuff involving swings and chandeliers? That sort of thing is personal and I wouldn’t want to invade your privacy like that.” She pauses. “Unless you want me to.”

  “Run for your life, Becca,” Callahan yells in the background. “Go someplace where they don’t have phones or Trins.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound like a very fun place,” Trin adds. “Go, ahead, Becca. I’m all ears.”

  “Hold on,” I whisper, covering the speaker when I hear my name.

  “Seriously,” Tootles says. “You and Becca should consider modeling for fragrances, clothing, anything sexy. I’ll shoot you myself.”

  “I’m not one for modeling,” Hale answers, his voice quiet.

  “I understand. It’s not every man’s dream. But, honestly, Becca missed her calling. She was a little stiff when we started, but that beauty. Oh, she slayed it, and the chemistry between you was something to behold.”

  “Becks?” Trin says.

  “Shhh,” I tell her. “They’re talking about me.”

  “Who?”

  “Hale and Tootles,” I explain.

  “Tootles?”

  “The photographer.”

  “Oh. Well, what are they saying?” she presses.

  “I’d tell you
if you’d just let me eavesdrop like a real friend,” I hiss.

  “Becca never wanted to model,” Hale tells Tootles. “She was really against it, even though I know she would have gone far.”

  “Why?” Tootles asks.

  “She just wanted something different, is all,” Hale says.

  He keeps his voice easy, giving nothing away, even though he knows the truth.

  “Well?” Trin says.

  “Tootles was telling Hale I missed my calling as a model,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Hale told him I wasn’t interested.”

  “But that’s not exactly true, is it?” Trin asks.

  Like Hale, Trin knows what really made me run screaming from that business. “No,” I agree. I start to laugh, recalling events I haven’t thought about in years. “Remember when we used to practice posing?”

  “After every America’s Next Top Model episode and sometimes even during,” Trin says, laughing. “You were always really good at keeping still and striking those poses that were so uncomfortable. They looked natural when you performed them.”

  I laugh. “And you were always good at the action shots, sugar.”

  “That’s because I’d get bored standing still. I remember doing jumping jacks and squats in between my so-called modeling.”

  “Oh, stop,” I say. Trin is the cutest thing ever. She always was. We both worked so hard that summer, trying to get our bodies just right so we could convince our mothers to take us to an agent.

  “You were going to be the next big thing,” Trin reminds me.

  “No, we were,” I remind her.

  “Or so we thought,” I add, quieting.

  Our mothers were never close, despite the constant interaction between Trin and me. Miss Silvie was always tending to her children, her husband, or her garden, or raising money for people who desperately needed saving. Momma was always busy being seen at the right events with all the right people. She served on the board for several charities, but I recognized at a young age it was all about representing the family and looking good, not about helping others. That day, though, the one Trin and I spent preparing for, was my first real look at the life I was headed for.

  We bought a white runner, the paper kind they used to cover the aisles during weddings. We had a runway show to put on and we couldn’t have a show without a runway. Trin and I had so much fun setting up the Christmas lights on either side, decorating the rows with flowers and bows, and keeping the boys away. Her brother Landon was nice enough to help us set up a curtain and her father helped us with all the things we couldn’t reach.

  Our mommas weren’t allowed to see anything until show time. Miss Silvie clapped, “ooh’d” and “ahh’d” in all the right places. She didn’t make a fuss about us dirtying her sheets and she praised our creativity. She didn’t even seem to notice all the times Trin fell and how she had to drag most of the ill-fitting clothes behind her.

  Momma didn’t notice Trin at all. She was so pleased with me. So happy. I’ve never seen her so proud. For the first time, I thought she was seeing me and my knack for becoming anything I put my mind to.

  When our show wrapped and we finished tidying up, it was late. Momma rushed me to the car, fussing with my hair and excited to tell Daddy.

  “We’ll have to set up interviews in Charlotte. Maybe even New York, once we get a few head shots. Oh, Becca,” she gushed. “You’re going to be a model!”

  I laughed, giddy. Until she said what she did.

  “When word gets out you are a professional model, you’ll have your pick of any young man at the club.”

  “What?” I asked.

  She stopped listening. “You know that political function we’re invited to every year in Washington? The one the wives of GOP congressmen and senators put together? They’re normally so tired and overdone, but it’s good for connections. One never knows when one might need a favor.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, already fearing where she was headed.

  “Families are always invited,” she stressed. “Sons, especially, who are interested in political careers.” She glanced at me. “I never thought you were ready to interact among political giants. But you’ve proved me wrong, Becca June. Now, you have something to offer.”

  She meant she had someone worthwhile to offer them.

  “This could be your chance to meet your future husband.” She gasped. “One day, you could even become First Lady. Can you imagine? My daughter, the wife of the president of the United States.”

  My gaze drifted away from my mother and it took all my strength not to break down. Modeling wasn’t my future. I knew it then. In those few minutes in the car with my mother, it became another talent to add to my resume, to make me attractive for a man and a future I didn’t want.

  “I don’t want to be a model, Momma,” I told her, immediately crushing her dreams and mine. “Trin and I were just playing. It was a project. Nothing more.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Becca June,” she said. “This is obviously something you’re good at.”

  “It was just a stupid game,” I said. “Something to do to pass the time.”

  Momma looked back and forth from me to the road. Her shoulders slumped dramatically. “Then why did you waste my time?”

  “Your Momma didn’t mean to be so cold,” Trin says, hauling me away from another painful memory. “She just never knew any better. In her mind, she was being a good momma by trying to give you the best chance to meet a good man.”

  “But Nana June wasn’t like that,” I tell Trin. “She was more like your momma, caring more about her family than what anyone thought of her.”

  “I know,” Trin says. “Our parents have the strongest influence on us. They’re there from the start, molding us into what we’ll become or helping us become something entirely different. The life your momma chose was the right and best one, as far as she was concerned. And because it was, she wanted that life for her child. It didn’t matter that you deserved better. In her mind, she was doing right by you.”

  “I understand what you mean, but because of what happened that day and how I gave it all up, I held you back and I feel terrible about it.” I’m not exaggerating. Trin dropped her pursuit of modeling once I told her what happened with Momma.

  “No worries, Becca,” Trin says. “It was all for fun and I only had fun when I was doing it with you. Besides, they usually prefer tall women, less freckles, and fewer squats down the runway.”

  I want to laugh, but my focus lifts toward the tiered ceiling and the alternating tones of blue and white. Kiawah was supposed to stir memories for Hale. But here I am, watching as they circle my mind. I don’t have great memories of my family, but I always do of Trin.

  “Thanks, Trin.”

  The front door opens and shuffling ensues as Hale and Tootles load up the van. It’s only when it shuts that I tell Trin about the ring.

  “He gave you his momma’s ring?” she asks, her voice quiet and her thoughts drifting her away. “The one his daddy gave his momma the day he was born? Goodness, Becca.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I say.

  “It was like something,” Trin points out. “You’re getting closer. More so than either of you probably thought.”

  “I hope you’re right. I can’t stand the thought of losing him again.”

  “Becks . . . you sound so sad.”

  “I am. Mostly I’m scared. Hale’s intense. That carefree boy we knew is long gone.”

  “Hale was always intense,” Trin reminds me. “I mean, for the most part he was laid back and level-headed, unlike Sean, bless his heart. But when things were serious, be it on that football field or when push came to shove and one of us was hurting, that intensity always slammed its way through like a herd of wild horses.”

  “This time it was different.” I try to explain. “You weren’t there, Trin. You didn’t see how he . . . took me.”

  “I didn’t have to be the
re,” Trin says. “Y’all got pictures. Don’t you be thinking I won’t be ordering a few eight by tens.”

  I laugh out loud.

  “It might even be our Christmas card this year.”

  “Trin!”

  “Nothing says Merry Christmas like a picture of your best friend’s backside as she walks toward your other best friend, naked in bed. All I need to do is add, ‘Hugs and kisses, the Sawyers,’ and I’m all set.”

  I cover my face, laughing, the last of my stress erasing. Well, most of it, anyway.

  Hale is almost done helping Tootles. I can’t hide in here with Trin forever, but there’s more I need to tell her.

  “Do you know what happened with Hale’s parents?” I don’t outright discuss the affair. I just give her a nudge. Of course, she knows exactly what I mean. Trin keeps a lot of our secrets. This time, I wish she hadn’t.

  “He told me when I came home from the Peace Corps,” she admits quietly. “He said he’d planned to write me and tell me about it. But he couldn’t discuss something like that in a letter.”

  “You never told me,” I say. “Trin, this was something I needed to hear long before now.”

  “Becca,” she says gently. “It wasn’t my story to tell.”

  “I know,” I agree. “I’m not mad at you. I just wish I’d known. I could have been there for him. Instead I screwed things up and wasn’t sure how to make it right.”

  “You weren’t going to repair your relationship just because I told you something bad about his family, Becks. I love y’all. You know I do. But the people you are today are not the same people who left each other under those awful circumstances. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think either of you were ready for each other back then.”

  “We were going to make love,” I say, remembering how much I wanted to. “I realize it sounds stupid to say it like that, but it wasn’t going to be just sex. Not with Hale.”

  “I know. Y’all have loved each other forever. As friends first and maybe more now.”

  There was no “maybe” about it. But even to Trin I can’t admit as much yet.