Page 143 of Playing the Game
The truth lodges itself in my throat. She may say I’m more important to her, but until she’s faced with the fact she can stay at Efron Worldwide, I’ll never know for sure.
I place my hand on her knee. “You’ve asked me to open up to you, so I will. A part of me doesn’t believe you’ll move.”
“But I’ve told you I will. I’ll call the movers tomorrow and get it scheduled.”
“That helps calm my mind, but it doesn’t remove the fact that if you have a job here, everything changes.”
She shakes her head, pushes off the couch, and marches to the bedroom.
Great.
Now she’s pissed, and I don’t blame her. I’d be frustrated if I were in her shoes too.
I give her a minute alone while I try to find a way around my predicament. She deserves the truth, but I’m terrified she’ll get hurt if I interfere in Hunter’s plan.
It’s a hard place to be. I don’t trust him, but I’m acting as if I don’t trust her.
Fuck me.
Something crashes against my bathroom floor. I get up to check to see what it was.
Once I round the corner from my bedroom to the en suite, Dori comes into view, sitting on the floor with tears streaming down her face. She’s wiping up a broken bottle of moisturizer that’s splattered all over the tile.
I kneel beside her, placing my hand over hers. “Let me do this.”
“No. You’re the one who was shot, and I’m the one who dropped this.”
“Dori, stop and look at me.”
She continues to wipe the floor with a cloth. “This isn’t going anywhere.”
“Are you talking about the mess or something else?”
“Both.”
“Look, you and I need to talk about this. Stop cleaning for a minute, and let’s figure this out.”
She ignores me and goes about picking up the shattered jar. Knowing she’s not going to give me a pass, I stand and go get some cleaning supplies to give us some space. Neither one of us is going to budge on the subject, so I need some time to figure out how to approach this.
Once I’m back in the bathroom, she stands and tosses the cloth and the broken bottle into the trash. She brushes by me and stomps into the bedroom. I get the distinct feeling she’s about to lay into me.
I follow her out. “Dori?—”
“No. You don’t get to run this relationship without my input.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Fuck, Dori?—”
“No. I mean it, Jami. Either you hear me out, or I can go home.” She pops her hands to her hips. “If you have doubts about us, tell me now.”
I glance at the door to my bedroom, trying to find the right words.
She cuts into my thoughts. “No, you don’t.”
I face her. “Don’t what?”
