Page 148 of Fiery Romance

“I have several thoughts on this, Bolton, but I need to know first—are you calling me as a friend or as a therapist?”

“What’s the difference?”

“As your therapist, I have to coach you through your emotions and thoughts. Allow you to take the journey to finding your own conclusion.”

“And as a friend?”

“I’ll tell you what you need to hear.”

I don’t hesitate. My life has always been about facing things head on. “Don’t hold back, Darrel. The faster I fix this, the faster Island will forgive me.” And maybe answer my texts and phone calls.

I know she got them. I tapped into the salon feed after calling for the fifth time. I saw her pick up the phone, scowl at it, mumble words that probably weren’t pleasant and then slam it back down.

Talking to Darrel is my last stand. It’s either I find a way to get through to the woman with gentleness or I shut down her salon for the day so we can talk.

Either way, she’s probably going to try and stab me with a flat iron, but with Darrel, at least I have more of a chance of mending things before I get third degree burns.

Darrel pulls no punches. “You messed up, Bolton. You messed up bad. And if Island didn’t resort to physical harm last night, then she’s more gracious than you deserve.”

My eyes widen.Damn.

“I need you to get out of your own way for a second and think about things from her point of view. She’s into you. She’s ready to be at her most vulnerable with you and right there, next to her head, is a reminder that she is nothing more than a replacement. There will always be someone more important in your heart and you have no problems shoving that in her face.”

“That’s not true. I care about her.”

“And you love someone else. At least, that’s what the pictures of Anya all over your bedroom are saying.”

I rub my chin. My callouses make a bristling sound against my palm.

“We’re both adults. We should talk about it,” I say. “She stormed off before we could work it out.”

“Of course she did. What was the alternative? She can’t force your heart to want her. She can only protect herself by not getting physical while the person you really love is there on the dresser.”

I feel exposed, naked.Island’s words from last night return to me. The hurt. The tears. The way her bottom lip trembled.

She made it seem like we were violating something sacred.

Cheating.

If she felt like it was cheating, shouldn’t I have felt that way too? But I didn’t. I was more concerned with how hurt she was. I was torn up when she cried.

Last night, Island was all I could think about.

“Is this really because of the pictures?” I challenge Darrel. “How do I know that she won’t feel this way again, even if no pictures are around?”

“Why focus on what could happen when you haven’t even fixed the problem she pointed out to you?” He volleys back. “I told you this before, Bolton. Anya is gone. Everything you keep around in your bedroom for her means you’re holding on to her. It means you will never be fully open to anyone else. You have her in your bedroom. You have her around the house. You’re saying the door to your heart is closed and not open to business. You have to consider if that’s the statement you want to send. And if it is, then you’re communicating it perfectly.”

“I can’t just torch Anya’s pictures, Darrel. I’m not going to do that.”

“I didn’t say to torch them. How you choose to store them is completely up to you. I think youshouldkeep them. Have them in a safe place so when the kids grow up they can have memories of their mom. But holding the pictures in your room is holding them in your heart. If you keep Anya there, it leaves no space for anyone else.”

It feels like there’s a clamp on my head that’s tightening with every second. I spin my chair around and glance at the security feed.

Island is smiling brightly at a client. Her fingers are twisting hair at the speed of light.

Staring at her like this may be stalker-ish of me, but it’s not like I have an alternative.

I miss her. And I want to see her.

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