Page 61 of Madness

Now, I'm not so sure.

"Mommy?" Roman calls from the kitchen. "Can you help me with my homework?"

Reality crashes back in. I have responsibilities. A life to lead, with or without Dakota in it. I can't put everything on hold waiting for him to call.

With a deep breath, I turn away from the window. "Coming, sweetie."

As I sit next to Roman, helping him color within the lines, I make a silent promise to myself. Whatever happens with Dakota, I'll face it. I'll be strong - for Roman, for my future, for myself.

The rest will have to wait. For now, this moment with my son is what matters most.

35

THE JESTER

DAKOTA

The stale air of the hotel room presses down on me, still heavy with the scent of yesterday's whiskey and regret. Outside, I can hear the distant rumble of the tour buses being loaded, a reminder of the relentless pace of life on the road. My fingers shake slightly as I scroll to Lauren's number, the bright screen a stark contrast to the dimness of the room.

I've been putting this off for hours, torn between the desperate need to hear her voice and the fear of what she might say. The memory of our last conversation, my words slurred and angry, plays on repeat in my mind. God, what must she think of me?

Taking a deep breath, I hit dial. Each ring sends a jolt of anxiety through my body.

"Dakota?" Lauren's voice is hesitant and guarded. The warmth that usually colors her tone when she says my name is noticeably absent.

"Hey," I say, my own voice rougher than I expected. I clear my throat, trying to shake off the remnants of last night's cigarettes. "I... I'm sorry I didn't call back sooner. Things have been..."

"Complicated?" she finishes for me, her tone flat.

I wince, pacing the small space between the bed and the window. "Yeah. Look, Lauren, about the other day-"

"You were drunk," she interrupts, cutting straight to the chase.

The bluntness of her statement catches me off guard. My free hand instinctively goes to the back of my neck, a nervous habit I thought I'd kicked years ago. "I... yes. I was. I'm sorry, I-"

"How long has this been going on, Dakota?" The pain in her voice is palpable, and it cuts deeper than any hangover.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, shame washing over me. "It started after the first show. I thought I could handle just one drink, but..."

"The first freaking show? It's never just one, is it?" The bitterness in her tone makes me flinch.

A memory flashes unbidden - the electrifying high of that first show, the champagne flowing freely backstage. I'd felt invincible that night, on top of the world. How quickly it all came crashing down.

"Lauren, I'm sorry. I know I messed up. But I'm going to fix this. I'm going to meetings, I'm talking to Brad-"

"Stop," she says, and the weariness in her voice makes my heart sink. "Just... stop, Dakota. I've heard all this before."

"What do you mean?"

There's a long pause. When Lauren speaks again, her voice is barely above a whisper. "With Miles. I've heard all these promises before. The 'I'm sorries,' the 'I'll do betters.’ And I just... I can't do it again."

Her words hit me sideways. The room seems to tilt, and I grip the edge of the bed to steady myself. "Lauren, please. I'm not Miles. This isn't the same-"

"Isn't it?" she cuts me off. "The drinking, the mood swings, the unreliability. It all feels pretty familiar from where I'm standing."

I feel panic rising in my chest, making it hard to breathe. "Lauren, I love you. I love Roman. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either," she says softly. "But I have to think about Roman. I have to think about myself. I can't go through this again."

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