Page 66 of All the Promises We Break

“You don’t have to. I believe you. If I’m going to be your girlfriend, we have to have trust. I trust that you’re telling me the truth.”

“Even after I wasn’t completely honest about Gabrielle?”

“Yes. We’re in a different place now.”

“I need you to repeat something for me. Say you’re going to be my girlfriend.”

“Sometimes you can be so cute I can’t take it.” She giggles. “I’m going to be your girlfriend.”

I reach over to pull her body on top of mine. “Do you have any idea how special you are?”

Hayley heats a little under my touch as she curls her head against my neck. “It makes me happy you think so.”

“I’ll text Dylan and have her set us up to talk to Eli. I don’t want to blindside her in case she has to do damage control.”

“No matter what… after tomorrow, we won’t have to hide.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dylan

I overslept my alarm this morning. Eli left early because he had a recheck with Dr. Collier this afternoon but needed to still get a full day of work in. I guess I didn’t realize how exhausting yesterday really was. My body is reminding me today. It aches in a way it hasn’t in a long time. Maybe I’m dehydrated, filled with anxiety, or both.

Yesterday.

I will relive a thousand graduation ceremonies again if it means not having to cover up for Wes and Hayley. I don’t like the lies. It makes me feel sick. Just as I’m about to text Wes that he has until the end of the day to make it right, he beats me to it. Today is the day. He wants me to set it up with Eli.

I feel this wave of relief come over me. The sick to my stomach feeling I’ve had for a couple of days is finally starting to subside. I flip to the calendar on my phone to remind myself which rehearsal studio I have today. I look at the date and a new sick feeling sinks in. I didn’t realize what day it was.

I’m late.

Three days late.

Today is not the day for my mentor to watch rehearsal. He wanted to see my audition piece. It’s not that it isn’t ready, it’s everything else. I’ve gone down to drinking broth and binging on my electrolyte drinks. Oatmeal and toast didn’t stay so I gave up after that. This will at least get me through the day to tonight. Everything is about tonight.

I weave my way through my piece. Thank God I’ve performed it so many times that I can remember it in my sleep. I know it didn’t show with the power it normally does, but I’m still proud of it. When I finish, he hands me my towel and offers me what he calls his tough love. While he liked it, he didn’t feel that it came with enough originality to get to the next level, which would make it hard to pass me up.

His notes are hard to hear, even on replay upon replay in my head. In the middle of encore number four, I get a call from Skye. She wants to make sure I’m available for an emergency meeting next Wednesday morning. I tell her of course, but in my head I’m like fuck, how am I going to make this work with double rehearsals starting on Monday?

The client’s branding switch is my baby and of course I’m going to be there. It’s just another layer burying me. Right now, I can’t take one more thing.

I shouldn’t say that because it’s when everything falls apart. I can feel my stomach churn and in seconds I’m racing in my bare feet to the connecting bathroom, where all kinds of ugly happen. I’ve never had the pleasure of puking my guts out to the point of getting your period. This is a new one for me.

After I clean myself up, I toss back a bit more of my electrolyte cocktail, sit down in the middle of the studio and cry. I’m cryingbecause I feel like my routine sucks. I’m crying because I’m not ready for that meeting next week. I’m crying because I’m not pregnant. I’m crying because I don’t know what else to do.

“Dylan?”

I hear a soft male voice from an open crack of the door. It’s Wes. “Hey.” I keep wiping my face over and over with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“You okay? What’s going on?”

He slowly approaches me, crouching at my side. “Not a good day. At all. Where’s Hayley?”

“She’s talking to her parents. You know.” He shrugs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“The highlights are I’m so stressed out I’m sick, the routine I’ve been working on for months has to be reworked. I have a huge meeting at work next week, I’m not even close to being ready for it. I thought I was pregnant for most of the morning, and I’m thinking about tonight so, yeah. Take your pick.”

“Okay, fuck my shit for a minute. What do you mean you thought you were pregnant?”

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