Page 33 of Dirty Love

“I told you to leave!” My voice rises hysterically, but I’m not sure I did. “Why are you still in L.A.?”

He doesn’t answer that question. “Do I need to come and get you?”

“You can’t do this.”

“We need to talk about that.”

“We can’t.”

“I’ll find a way.” He takes a deep breath, then slows himself down. “You freaked out in there.”

“How do you—” I press my fist against my mouth to stop from asking the rest of that question. Oh God, I don’t want to know the answer.

He tells me anyway. “You’ve been going to the same studio for three days. I’m monitoring it now.”

“And my phone?”

“The ringer can be turned on remotely. There’s a lot I can do from a distance, Tabitha. Including protecting you.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“And I can be someone who knows you’re upset, and ask you what’s wrong.”

“I don’t need that, either.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I laugh, because what the fuck has happened to me? “Who are you?”

“I’m yours.”

“That’s insane.”

“Yeah.” He laughs, too, but not as maniacally as I do. “Look, you’re okay? I’ll let you go if you are.”

“I’m…” Not okay. “I’m singing a song I don’t want to sing.”

“Then don’t.”

“Oh, that’s a complicated impossible option.”

“I won’t ask why, but I’m curious.”

“I won’t tell you, so stifle that.” I sigh. “I’m fine now. I just needed a minute to get my shit together.”

“Sing a different song,” he says softly. “Or go and sing the hell out of that one. I thought it sounded great, for what it’s worth.”

“It’s…”

“Is it real? Is it your story?”

I swallow hard. “Sort of. But I didn’t write most of it. So it’s…uncomfortable, you know? Like people might see that it’s real.”

“You don’t shy away from those types of songs.”

“I write them differently.”

He lets my words just hang between us. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

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