“Nothing is wrong.” I tried to dismiss his keen observation by putting on a forced grin to shake off his speculation.

“Bullshit,” he returned with a sharp laugh as he followed me into the bathroom. “You don’t think I can tell when you’re upset, Tar?

Give me some credit.”

Ryan trapped me at the bathroom sink; his chest pressed into my back. I could feel the warmth of his breath heating my ear. “I know you better than you think I do.” I swallowed hard, loving that he cared to know my feelings but hesitant to share them before I had sorted those feelings out.

“You’ve been this way since dinner last night, and every time I’ve asked, you’ve avoided telling me. So please don’t tell me you’re fine anymore. What’s going on?” He kissed my bare shoulder tenderly.

I opted for saving him from my bruised emotions. “It’s not important. We can talk later. You have enough to deal with right now.”

His arms crossed over my abdomen, pulling me closer. “No. I’m not waiting that long. We made a promise to each other, remember? More open and honest? I want to know what’s bothering you, and I want to know what it is right now.”

I looked at him through our reflection in the large mirror, stalling.

“Right now,” he ordered, his voice taking on a new, direct tone.

My will cracked. “I thought you were going to say something on the show last night, that’s all.” I casually added a shrug, trying to lessen the impact.

“About what?”

My apprehension to go down this road made me fidget. “About being engaged. I just thought . . . since you didn’t say anything on Jimmy Collins that you might say something on Night Life, but you didn’t. I’m trying not to be one of those needy girls, Ryan, but I just don’t understand why you’ve avoided confirming it when they asked.” I hoped his reasons weren’t any of the ones on my speculated list.

It took all of ten seconds for him to break eye contact and make a few of his standard throaty noises before his hands freed me.

Next came his “stare at the floor and rub the forehead” maneuver.

I turned my eyes back to the sink counter.

This repeat pattern of having to walk on damn eggshells around men was getting so freaking old. “See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. I know you have your reasons, Ryan. It’s just . . . I thought I was your fiancée, but I can’t help but feel as though I’m some dirty little secret.” Ryan closed the lid on the toilet and sat down. “You’re not a dirty secret, Taryn. Nor have you ever been.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

He paled as if I’d just smacked him. “Of course not! Why would you even say that?”

“You denied being engaged to me on television and during every interview. I don’t understand why, beyond Marla telling you not to, so what else am I to think? I’m sorry, but I can’t help feeling the way I do.”

“What the hell do you want me to do?” he grumbled, letting his hands slap down on his thighs.

I held his gaze, worried that he might think I was even remotely interested in having this turn into an argument. “I love you—with all of my heart. I want to be your wife, your partner. I want to be by your side through all of your adventures. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or what role I’m supposed to play. Help me to understand, Ryan. Help me to be a part of all of this.”

Ryan exhaled with new frustration. “Tar, you see how things are—the paparazzi, the fucking tabloids. They take everything from me. Everything I hold sacred. Why can’t our private life stay private, you know? If I give them that, then what do I have left? Nothing.”

Massive confusion tore through my mind, followed closely by my anger. “Maybe I should just stay here then. That way I can stay a private matter,” I muttered to the tiled floor.

“No. Fuck that.”

I studied the design in the lace of my dress for a moment before begging his eyes for some clarity. “Just answer one question.

Why did you do it? If you don’t want to acknowledge that we’re engaged, if it’s supposed to be some well-guarded secret, why did you make your proposal public?”

“You don’t understand.” With a short huff, Ryan stood and stepped around me to head toward the door.

Wonderful. Just like every other guy I’ve ever been with. Bail when the topic gets a little uncomfortable. That’s it. Walk away.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Ryan stopped on the threshold and gripped the door frame with both hands, completely surprising me. His head hung low for a moment. “I didn’t say anything on Jimmy Collins because all that asshole wanted was a confession to up his ratings.” He turned around and then paced the length of the bath, from the cavernous sandstone-tiled shower to the doorway and back again. “The intimate details of our personal life are not for public discussion, Tar.

Nor am I going to allow it to be used to make other people rich. That’s our life—our business.”

I drew in a quick breath when he moved to stand directly in front of me.

“I make movies. That’s what I do for a living. If I go on a talk show, it’s to talk about my job, drum up more hype for the movie. Not to spill secrets about our personal life.”

“But there’s so much of your life that’s public. I always thought it was happy news when people got engaged.”

His hard glare softened as he took my left hand in his. “It is happy news. You’re my everything, Taryn, not my secret.” Ryan’s right hand drifted down my cheek, touching much more than just skin. “I just don’t want to share what is most sacred to me with the entire world on a talk show. You’re my world, babe. Mine. Not theirs. They can have me, but they can’t have you, too.” His brow creased, frowning as though he was torn. “I was going to sing a different song to you when I proposed. I had it all planned. Everything was supposed to be private. But then everything got so screwed up and I ran out of time.” He rubbed his hand over his head. “Hell, everyone thought I’d been unfaithful to you, Taryn. Even you.

At that time, considering . . . well, I felt a grand gesture was necessary.” I took a deep breath, strewn with personal regret, knowing I was one of those who doubted.

Ryan dipped his head to recapture my eyes. “I was mad and hurt and then I thought . . .” His hand cradled my cheek.