Page 26 of You Rock My World
“So, Penny insisted I let her give me a mustache as camouflage. Only instead of using what she promised was washable ink, the little monster thought it’d be funny to use a permanent marker.” Josie beats her pencil nervously on the notepad. “Once I realized, I could either spend hours removing the damage and miss the meeting, or arrive mostly on time and keep the mustache.”
I’m equal parts charmed and gutted. I admire her for going to such ridiculous lengths to make her niece happy, for letting herself become the person a little girl can count on. I can picture Josie in that classroom, standing tall with that absurd mustache, playacting. She has to carry not just her grief but someone else’s too, to hold herself together while making space for another’s sadness. Stepping in where a parent should have been, keeping the smile on a little girl’s face through a sure-to-be-hard day. It takes strength to fill that absence, and it’s as beautiful as it is devastating.
I give Josie what I hope is an encouraging smile as I thank her for sharing with the group.
Turning to the others, I ask, “Any more questions?”
They mutter negative responses, so I nod at Tessa, asking her to go ahead with the day’s agenda.
But as the meeting progresses, I don’t listen to a single word of what anyone says. My focus is on Josie bathed in the sunlight streaming through the windows. In this setting, her amber irises are so much more striking than they were under the fluorescent lights of the elevator. Yeah, those neons didn’t do them justice, and yet, her eyes were already stunning enough to bring me to my knees. Now, I’m not even sure where I stand. In a puddle on the floor?
Every additional detail I discover about her is a prize worth more than all the Grammys I have in this room. It’s not only her beauty that captivates me, more the essence of who she is. It’s the way she fills the space without even trying, how her presence electrifies the air, making every word anyone else says irrelevant.
I finally recognize the emptiness I’ve been carrying these past months: I’ve missed her.
Ever since that night, there’s been a Josie-shaped void I couldn’t fill no matter how hard I distracted myself with work or music. And now that I’ve got her back in my life, it’s all I can do to keep from grinning like an idiot. I’m giddy, downright lightheaded, my entire body is buzzing knowing that she’s mere feet away from me.
Her laugh, her quirks, her ridiculous fake mustache—they’re everything I’ve been starving for in the past year. And like a man breaking a fast, I’m terrified of overindulging, of rushing her with too much too soon.
I yearn to touch her, to brush that stray tendril of hair from her cheek. But I clasp my hands tighter under the table, reining myself in.
Slow and steady, Dorian. Don’t spook her.
When I met her, a barrier stood between us, a truth I wasn’t ready to share. But now, I’ve finally razed that wall. I’m done with my failed marriage, with the shambles of my old life… She knows I’m unattached. And I’m free to go after her.
But that freedom is still laced with fear.
Fear of saying the wrong thing, of moving too fast, too slow, of letting her slip through my fingers again. I don’t even know if she’s seeing someone. Fuck, if she has a boyfriend I’m going to lose my shit. How did I wait an entire year? Would’ve been more if Missy hadn’t had her medical emergency.
I feel stupid for having wasted all this time. But Josie has told me more than once that I was too married for her. I needed the relationship with Billie to be over in every sense—emotional, legal, public—before approaching Josie. I just hope I haven’t waited too long.
My first instinct is to leap over the table and kiss her, but I need to tread carefully.
Josie isn’t someone I can chase recklessly. She’s the breakout song in an album, one I have to compose with intention, every note considered, every lyric meaningful. She’s a melody that got stuck in my head, and I have to take my time, let each chord fall into place naturally, with the care I’m still learning how to give after my marriage imploded so spectacularly. Still, as I watch her in my house, with my people, the need to prod overcomes everything else. I’m only human, and today, I won’t let her slip away like she did at the photoshoot yesterday. Not again.
This time, I’ll give her a reason to stay.
17
JOSIE
As the meeting at Dorian’s continues, Bailey, the social media manager, pulls her sleek ponytail tighter and begins her update.
“The Instagram post announcing Dorian’s split from Billie Rae is doing well. Close to forty million views, five million likes, and over a hundred K supportive comments flooding in. Of course, Billie’s die-hard fans left a few salty remarks, but that’s to be expected.” She scrolls through her phone, her long, pointy nails clicking against the screen. I wonder how she types, let alone avoids spelling disasters, with those claws. “Oh, and the usual gossip about who Dorian will be dating next has started.”
I keep my pencil gliding across the notepad, feigning intense concentration on my notes, but my ears prick up at the mention of Dorian’s romantic prospects. And I swear I can feel the brush of his gaze on me as he smoothly declares, “I’m not seeing anyone.”
It’s embarrassing how relieved I am. I fight the urge to kick my feet under the table.
Bailey nods, her ponytail bobbing with the motion. “Got it. But remember, we need to be in the loop ASAP if that changes, okay? Any rumors of you dating someone new might put Billie Rae’s fans in a tailspin.”
I dare a peek as Dorian confirms with a silent dip of his head. But it’s his agent who talks next, addressing his question to me. “Josie, given Dorian’s history as half of a music power couple, what’s your take on shaping his image post-divorce?”
“Mmm, what do you mean?”
“Do we make him America’s sweetheart, market him as a sexy bad boy, keep him a dark horse?”
I’m appalled by how they discuss him—to his face—like he’s a piece of meat to sell at the butcher shop to the highest bidder.
