Chapter Twenty-Nine
It’s been three weeks, two days, and eighteen hours since I last saw him.
I had the IV in my arm for another day after the shower with Joseph, and it was amazing how much that helped.
Danny’s brother, Mark, came to check on me. He assessed my mental health and prescribed an antidepressant. I wasn’t overly keen on the idea, but he wants me off the anxiety medication and on something that will help long-term. I guess you can’t argue with doctor logic.
I’ve woken up and already know it will be a bad day. I am still in bed and feeling his loss more today than I have for a while. My thoughts drift to him, and before I can stop myself, I reach for my phone on the nightstand, opening the photo gallery.
The first picture that appears is us at the Eiffel Tower—smiling, happy, whole.
Swallowing hard, I reach beneath my pillow, my fingers finding the familiar chain of my necklace. I trace the inscription absently, my chest tightening with every second that passes. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself, but I keep scrolling, lost in the past.
Then I see a photo of Anna.
A tear slips down my cheek. I shake my head, swiping it away before setting my phone aside, forcing myself to let go.
I’m rolling over and closing my eyes to sleep when the vibration starts. I squeeze my eyes shut until it stops. My breathing increases, and I open my eyes, just waiting for the next call. It comes soon after, and I turn my head to watch the phone dancing around on the nightstand.
The urge to answer is becoming more dire.
I swallow hard, and the call stops.
I spin my body to face the nightstand and watch the phone, waiting.
It vibrates again.
And I can’t restrain myself.
I pick it up and swipe to answer the call.
My heart stops when I put the phone to my ear and say nothing, waiting for him to say something.
“Dee? Shit! Dee. Did you answer?” he asks.
My heart flutters at the sound of his voice.
I can’t speak.
No words come out, only rushed, harsh breaths.
“Dee, baby, are you there? Talk to me, p-please,” he begs. His voice cracks, and it sounds like he’s crying, which makes my eyes well up.
God, it’s so good to hear his voice.
“Okay, I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.
And if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.
As long as I hear you breathing, that’s enough for me, baby.
God, I miss you, Dee. I know I was a complete bloody arse, but I need…
desperately need you to know that I didn’t sleep with Jessi, not during or after you. I swear,” he assures.
My breath catches, and I inhale sharply as pain surges through me.
Is it pain?
Or a wave of pleasure?
I have no damn idea.
All I know is that he sounds sincere, and I know how much the paparazzi bend the truth to suit their end. To glean a reaction. They played me like a damn fiddle.
“Jessi is not having my kid like the papers are saying, baby. She’s not even pregnant.
And if she is, it ain’t mine. I never slept with her, Dee.
That night… what you walked in on… I’m sorry.
I was so fucking drunk and high that I didn’t do anything to stop her.
I know that’s not any excuse, and I’m not trying to find one.
I just… I was wasted. In my defense, I thought you’d left me, and I couldn’t deal with it.
I’m not dealing with it now. You were so angry when you left for your father, and you never said whether you were coming back.
I took it as a ‘no’ when I should have known better,” he says, then pauses.
Tears flow freely down my cheeks as I listen to him, trying to gain some composure.
“Baby, I miss you. I need you so much. I still get a suite separate from the penthouse wherever we go, just in case you come back to me. I’m so glad you answered, Dee.
Even to hear your breathing…” he breathes heavily like a sigh, “… it’s enough to keep me going.
I wish I weren’t such an idiot. I wish Macy hadn’t fucked me up and made me into this jackass I am now.
I wish I could tell you those three little words that mean so much.
I know how fucking, fucked it is that I can’t say them.
But I do feel it… so much, Dee. I’m a shell of a man without you. ”
I can’t hold back a slight sob that escapes. I raise my hand to cover my mouth, but it’s too late, he heard.
“Oh, Dee, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t.
I never want to hear you upset. I’m such a dick.
Fuck. You finally answer your phone, and I’m totally fucking this up.
Baby, I…” He goes quiet for a second or two, and I wonder if he is still there, but then I hear him exhale.
“Can I just lie here listening to you for a while? If you don’t hang up, I know it’s a yes,” he says.
I can’t bring myself to hang up.
I want him on the end of the line for as long as possible.
“Okay, you haven’t hung up. That’s good.
I hope you’re okay. The pictures I saw of you…
they killed me, Dee. You need to eat. I know you’re back home with Joseph.
Hell, you might even be back with him, but the fact you answered gives me a tiny glimmer of hope, and I’ll take anything I can get, baby,” he continues.
I open my mouth.
I try to talk.
But no words will come out.
So I sigh.
“I miss you. I know I’ve said that already, but I do.
I don’t know how I even existed before you.
And now you’re gone, I’m not existing. I’m breathing.
I’m eating. I play concerts. But all I think about is you.
I can’t sing your song anymore. I don’t know if you know, but we’ve pulled it from our lineup.
Dingo and Rob weren’t happy when I refused to sing it anymore… ”
He pauses, then continues, “One night in Greece, they tried to trick me into singing it. The guys started playing, expecting me to sing, but I got so fucking angry I walked off stage and left the concert venue. The show was done. The fans only missed two or three songs, but it got to me bad, Dee. Why would they do that when they know what this separation has done to me?” He breathes heavily, and I can only imagine how that affected him—typical assholes.
“They haven’t made me sing it since. There’s only one person I want to sing that song to, and she’s on the other end of this line.”
I wipe a tear from my cheek and can’t help the smile that appears on my face.
“Until the end of time, Dee. ‘I will wait for you until the end of time,’ ” he sings.
I gasp at the sound of his amazing singing voice. I can’t believe the effect his voice has on me. Will always have on me.
“Can I call you again? Same time tomorrow? If you don’t hang up, I know it’s okay,” he says, and again, I can’t bring myself to hang up.
He releases a long exhale. “Thank God! I don’t want you to hang up, but I’m not ready to hang up even now. Can I stay on the phone until I hear you fall asleep…” he pauses, and it sounds like he’s holding his breath.
I don’t hang up and bite my bottom lip.
“Good! Okay! So I’m getting into bed now, and I’m going to stop talking so I can hear you breathing, and I won’t hang up until I think you’re asleep. Goodnight, baby,” he says. Then there’s some rustling followed by nothing except for the sounds of our breathing.
Rolling to my side, I put my cell under my ear on the pillow so I don’t have to hold it. I close my eyes, and Colt slowly starts to hum to me like he used to, to help me sleep.
Instantly, I am calm.
My breathing slows as he hums, edging me closer and closer to sleep.
And when I open my eyes, I remember he was on the phone, and I must have fallen asleep.
That was the best night’s sleep I’ve had for a long time.
Lifting my head, I grab my cell, and the screen is blank.
I quickly press the button to activate the screen and swipe it open, but he’s no longer there.
A wave of disappointment crashes into me—I don’t know why I’m so upset.
He’s always gone before I wake. I guess this time, I thought he might still be there.
I go to put the phone down, and it buzzes with a text message.
From him.
Colt: Dee, baby, I hope you slept as well as I did. I’m grateful you picked up last night. I hung up when I knew you were asleep, but I thought I’d send you this message so you know I haven’t left you. I have to do an interview, but I’ll call you again tonight. Same time. <3
I don’t reply.
I don’t know what to say.
To know he hasn’t been with Jessi since he met me does make me feel better. But I told him I couldn’t be with someone who uses drugs, and I saw him. I saw him inhale that shit off a naked slut, and that’s the image I can’t escape—no matter how hard I try.
I put my cell on the nightstand and get out of bed.
I’m conflicted.
Do I love him? Yes!
But I don’t know if he’s still using.
And I can’t bring myself to talk to him. Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything anymore.
Walking into the ensuite, I take a shower.
Joseph and Danny have returned to work, but they call alternately nearly every hour to check on me. Daddy keeps calling, and I’m sure he’s been over a couple of times, but Joseph won’t let him in.
Thank God! Because I can’t deal with him and his one thousand and one questions. I know Daddy’s worried about me, but I need to heal before I get loaded with the many ‘I told you so’ and ‘Aren’t you glad you found out now’ bullshit.
After I get out of the shower, I towel dry. As I look at myself in the mirror, the girl staring back is fading, and Deliah Norman is reappearing.
I exhale, get dressed, and walk downstairs to check what masterpiece Joseph has left me this morning. I have no idea why I never picked up that he was gay.
There were so many signs.
Joseph never wanted sex. He loves to cook and is terrific at it. His hair always looks a thousand times better than mine. Not to mention his dress sense. I mean, what straight man wears sweaters on their back and tied around their neck? Not that I am stereotyping or anything.