Page 104 of You Rock My World
Lilo tilts her head. “But the divorce came from you?”
I nod once, curt.
Fuck, this is excruciating. I hate interviews. I never discuss my personal life with journalists. But if baring my soul to the world is what it takes for me and Josie to have a chance at being together, then I’ll sit here and lay it all out, no matter how much I loathe every second.
Lilo shifts in her chair, adjusting her line of questioning on the fly. Normally, her team would’ve prepped a list of approved questions, but I didn’t give them time to script this episode the usual way. I asked her to do this last minute as a personal favor. So here we are, both winging it.
“Do you think Billie wrote ‘Just See’ because she’s still in love with you?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t think Billie can love anyone right now. Not before she learns how to love herself again.”
A flicker of discomfort crosses Lilo’s face. “That’s… a pretty dramatic statement. Why do you say that?”
“Our marriage fell apart mainly because Billie refused to face her demons and take the necessary steps to heal.”
“What steps?”
I’m about to drop a bomb, but I don’t see another way at this point. “Rehab, mostly. I begged, I reasoned, I fought. I tried dragging her myself more times than I can count.” I grip my knee tighter. “Every time I thought I’d finally gotten through to her, that she’d be different, she’d find a new excuse. An extra reason she wasn’t ready, why she didn’t need help. And I swallowed it, let her string me along, convinced that if I held on a little longer, I could fix it, her—us. But you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Billie wouldn’t take the help. And in the end, I had to face the reality that no matter how much I loved her, or how hard I tried,sheneeded to want to be better first.”
The tension in the studio thrums like a drawn bowstring. Lilo’s expression is unreadable, but she treads carefully. “That’s a serious accusation. Are you saying your ex-wife is an addict?”
Another curt nod. “Yes.”
“And you think revealing this on national television will help her… how?”
My jaw locks. “Because she has to face it. Because it has to stop.”
“Do you feel guilty about leaving your wife when she was in such a fragile state?”
The familiar spear of regret lodges between my ribs, pressing against a wound that’s still tender. “Every day. But it was either leave or lose myself in her wreckage.”
Lilo nods, absorbing it. “Okay. We are sorry about Billie, and if she would like to respond to your revelations of today, of course, we’re always available.” She hesitates. “This isn’t how I saw this interview going. I thought we were here to talk about your new relationship?”
“We are.” I bounce my knees, too agitated to keep still. “But I can’t do that without bringing Billie into this.”
“Why?”
“Because Billie knows who my girlfriend is,” I press on, doing my best to rein in my frustration, “and she’s threatened to expose her and her family. To turn her fans and the press against us. And I don’t want the woman I’m with to have to choose between me or seeing her loved ones under that kind of negative attention.”
Lilo’s face softens. “That sounds… awful. Is there anything we can do?”
I swallow, fists clenching and unclenching as I stare at the camera in front of me and make my appeal. “To Billie’s fans, I ask you to believe me when I say I never wronged her. The help she needs from you isn’t to make me miserable. She needs to get better, to take care of herself, and you can help her do that by encouraging her. I—” I pause, steadying my voice. “The new woman in my life, I’m in love with her. And even if Billie breaks us apart, I will never get back with her?—”
Lilo taps her earpiece, frowning. “Rian, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Billie Rae is on the phone. She wants to respond to your comments.”
My stomach turns to lead.
A red light blinks on the camera rig, signaling the live patch-in. On the large screen in the background, a stock image of Billie appears—pristine, airbrushed, a curated version of herself she shows the public and a stark contrast to the slurred venom spilling from the speakers.
“You have some fucking nerve.” Billie doesn’t even wait for introductions. Her voice cuts through the studio, distorted by static and thick with anger—a mockery of the polished persona staring down at us from the screen. “Sitting there with your holier-than-thou bullshit, acting like I was the problem. You abandoned me, Dorian. Left me to rot while you played the hero. Fuck rehab. You never wanted to help me. You only needed me to be your perfect, manageable, little wife. Well, newsflash, babe—I was never gonna be that. And now? Now you’re crying on national TV because I wrote a song? Because I called you out? You’re pathetic. Play the victim all you want, but guess what? The world knows who the liar is. And I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m driving right to that fucking studio to look you in the eyes while I say it. So, fuck you, you lying piece of shit.”
Lilo’s smile tenses as she casts an apologetic glance at the camera. “Billie, I understand these are deeply personal matters, and emotions can run high. But we do ask our guests to keep the discussion respectful.”
Billie’s breath hitches before she spits, “Shut up, bitch, I’m not talking to you.”
My ex sounds deranged.
The room goes still. Lilo recoils, blinking, but she’s quick to recover. “Billie, are you driving under the influence right now?”
