Page 86 of You Rock My World
“Okay.” He nods. “Well, I’m here for you. No matter what.”
“Don’t make promises you’re not sure you can keep.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I am sure.”
That’s when I snap.
“Yeah? And did you make the same promise to Billie when you asked her to marry you?”
The moment the accusation leaves my mouth, I want to claw it back. But it’s too late.
Dorian stiffens, his entire body locking up as if I’ve physically struck him. His face doesn’t just fall—it shatters. And I hate myself. Because I know—I know—how much that weighs on him. The staggering guilt he carries over his divorce. I took the sharpest thing I could find and stabbed it right through him.
“I-I didn’t mean—” My feet move on their own, wanting to erase the distance between us. I’m desperate to take it back, to smooth over the damage I inflicted. But before I can reach him, his hands lift like a barrier, palms out, fingers stiff. It isn’t an angry reaction. Not even a rejection. But something much worse: self-defense. He’s protecting himself from me. From his biggest vulnerability that I threw in his face in the middle of a tantrum because things didn’t go my way.
The thought guts me. My stomach twists so hard, I nearly double over. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“We should hit pause before we say something else we regret.” He sounds sowounded. And it’s my fault.
I search his face and only find the slow retreat of someone who’s just learned he can’t trust me not to hurt him. His hands stay raised a second too long before he finally drops them and gives me a curt, “I’ll call you.”
I nod stiffly. “Yeah. Okay.”
And then I leave. I walk out of his house, my pulse hammering in my throat, my hands shaking as I get into my car.
I don’t go home. I stop at the office, sit at my desk, and stare at my screen without seeing anything for hours. How did it get to this? What the fuck am I doing?
Dorian doesn’t call. Not in the afternoon, not at night. He misses the time of our goodnight call. I get that he’s not in the mood to read to me, but silly as it may sound, I don’t want us to go to bed angry.
At midnight, I crack. I grab my phone and start typing a long apology.
I did a shitty thing, and it can’t be undone. But I have to fix it somehow. He’s leaving again tomorrow morning. Dorian will be on the road again for weeks, and I fear that if I let him go like this, I’ll never get him back. So I type and type and type, pouring my heart out as I apologize to him.
When I’m done, I re-read the message, squeezing my eyes shut as I hit send and praying he will forgive me.
38
DORIAN
I’m in bed, staring at the ceiling, my phone face down on the nightstand. The alarm clock blinks past midnight, and I still haven’t called her. I should have. But I didn’t. Because every time I reach for my phone, I hear her voice accusing,Yeah? And did you make the same promise to Billie when you asked her to marry you?
The words land like a fresh hit, even now, hours later. I’ve had people throw worse at me—strangers, the press, even Billie herself. But Josie? She knew how to cut deep. And she did. I want to believe she didn’t mean it. That it was just anger, frustration. But I don’t know how to look past it, how to make it sting any less.
Because what the hell was I supposed to say to that?
Defend myself? Tell her she was wrong? That I wasn’t making empty promises to her the way she clearly thinks I did with Billie?
That wouldn’t have mattered. She wasn’t looking for reassurance. She wanted to push me away, to make her failed interview about something bigger than what it was. And maybe I should’ve called her out on it. Made her stay, forced us to talk it through.
And I—fuck—I just let her go without a word.
I drag a hand down my jaw. My eyes burn, and my body is keyed up and exhausted at once. I should sleep.
I’ve just closed my eyes, knowing I’ll never be able to rest, when my phone vibrates against the nightstand.
I tense, sure of who it is even before looking.
She sent me a message. A long one.
