Page 35 of You Rock My World
And then he kisses my forehead again, short-circuiting the last functioning neurons in my brain. I’m grinning like an idiot as I get into my car, but I can’t find it in me to care.
Dorian is holding the car door open for me. “See you tomorrow. Drive safe.”
He steps back, eyes intense, as he closes the door.
I drive straight to Lily’s place, hungry for the kind of comfort only family can offer. She’s making dinner when I arrive—I can’t believe my lunch break with Dorian lasted the entire afternoon. We eat together like always, but I barely taste anything. I mostly listen to Penny chattering. Lily’s eyes track me, probably sensing I’ll need to vent later. After dinner, Penny begs for an original mermaid story, so I tuck her in and weave a tale about a princess of the sea who lives in an enchanted coral reef and swims between two worlds.
Once Penny is asleep, I tiptoe out of the room, leaving her to dream of turquoise seas and magical adventures. Ah, if only real life could be as simple and enchanting as a bedtime story.
I find Lily on the patio seated at the table with two steaming mugs of red berries tea waiting. I settle in the free chair and grab the mug closest to me.
Lily doesn’t ask me anything. She waits for me to break. And it’s not long before the thoughts swirling in my mind demand an outlet. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
My sister watches me, her sad eyes filled with understanding and a hint of concern. She sips her tea, waiting patiently for me to continue.
And so, I spill everything. I tell her about my day with Dorian, the mature conversation we had about our feelings, and the hug that left me breathless and longing for more.
Lily listens, her expression neutral as she absorbs my words. Until I voice the doubt that has been torturing me all night. “Do you think I’m making a mistake? That I’ve picked an impossible man to love, and I’m only going to get my heart broken?”
My sister doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she gazes out at the horizon, where the last streaks of sunset are being swallowed by darkness.
“You could have picked the most regular man.” My sister’s tone is measured when she finally speaks, “And he could still leave you. Even if he didn’t want to.” Her voice catches as she turns to me, her eyes soft but serious, holding a wisdom born of experience and heartache. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”
The words sink deep into my chest, heavy but undeniable. They aren’t the reassurance I had hoped for, but maybe they are better—brutal and unflinching like truth often is.
“You never fall for anyone,” Lily continues. “When your last boyfriend asked you to move in with him, you broke off a two-year relationship without batting an eyelid. Then you spend a few hours locked in an elevator with Rian Phoenix and are heartbroken for a year. You can’t un-love him, Josie. And if you don’t at least try, you’re going to regret it. But it’s smart that you’re taking things slowly. And it’s promising that he’s okay to wait.”
We finish our tea in the growing darkness, the bond of sisterhood speaking louder than any words ever could. As the night settles around us, I find a strange sense of peace in the uncertainty. Love isn’t about guarantees or safe choices. It’s about taking a leap of faith, even when the landing is uncertain. And maybe the heart really knows best.
* * *
As I step into my apartment, it’s late, but I’m not tired—more restless. The excitement of today coalesces into a fidgety energy that buzzes under my skin.
I get behind my laptop and polish my CV that I haven’t updated in years and set up various job alerts for positions in my field. Dorian is right, I can change agencies. I like my colleagues, but I’m not close to anyone in particular at work. And I don’t love Nadine. We coexist well thanks to the hierarchical levels separating us, which allow me to forget she exists.
When I’m done, I curl up on the couch, too jacked up for TV. Instead, I grab my tablet, unhook my pen, and open my favorite design app. The familiar interface soothes me, tugging me back to college, when I discovered digital design. My major was communications, but my minor in visual arts unlocked a deeper hunger in me to illustrate my ideas. Tonight, that need bubbles up again. I start sketching the mermaid kingdom from Penny’s bedtime story: swaying seaweed forests, coral castles, and glowing jellyfish. When I reach the merman prince, he somehow ends up looking like Dorian—powerful jaw, intense eyes, an air of mystery. I give him tattoos, inked dark against bronzed skin.
Time slips away. When I resurface, the screen glows with the start of a storybook. It’s exactly how I saw it while telling Penny her tale.
I hug the tablet to my chest. Penny will love it. I smile at the handsome merman prince—bet Dorian would love this, too. I stare out the window, picturing him in his mansion. Will he be in the garden, stargazing? In his living room, composing? Is he thinking about me? I wish I had the freedom to hop in my car and drive to his place, but I can’t. I can only hope the heartgetswhat the heart wants. “Soon,” I promise the night and get back to drawing.
21
DORIAN
I recline in a patio chair, feeling unusually light as I stare at the stars. The conversation with Josie lingers in my mind, infusing me with optimism. I hate that I put her in a position where we can’t openly date, but I’m sure we’ll find a solution. We only need time.
Despite the complications, the idea of a slow courtship is exciting. It feels romantic to take it slow. I want this relationship to work, and an unhurried approach makes me feel calmer. I’ll have fewer chances to screw up. It’ll also spare me the scathing, he-replaced-his-wife-in-a-week headlines, the fans thinking I moved on too fast, and Billie from having the truth dragged out in front of the world before she’s ready for it. Not that my ex is ever going to accept my new relationship.
I pick up my guitar, my fingers dancing over the strings as I experiment with new chords. A melody begins to take shape, soft, hopeful, and entirely inspired by Josie.
I play until my phone rings, but it’s only front gate security trying to reach me, not a real call.
I balance the guitar on my knees and pick up. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Phoenix, sorry to disturb you, but we have a situation at the gates.”
“No worries, what’s up?” I ask, imagining it could be a crazy fan or rogue paparazzo—wouldn’t be the first time.
