14. Jaxon #3
But wanting terrifies me because everyone I've ever wanted has left. My parents, choosing social obligations over genuine presence. Andrew, betraying me for his own desires. Sophia, proving her love was never real. Even Shannon, abandoning her own daughter.
Wanting Vivienne—truly wanting her—means risking the kind of pain I've structured my entire life to avoid.
Before I can find words, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. Luke's name flashes on the screen. I ignore it, but the moment is broken.
"You should get that," Vivienne says, pulling away slightly. "It might be important."
Reluctantly, I reach for the phone, checking the text:
Emergency. Tour promoter needs answer tonight. AND Zackery Dean's lawyers filed new motion today. Call me ASAP.
"Everything okay?" Vivienne asks, noting my expression.
"Tour details," I say, not wanting to burden her with Dean's latest maneuver. "Luke needs an answer tonight."
"About the European dates?"
I nod, sitting up and reaching for my boxers. "They've restructured it to weekends only, like I requested. Shorter stays away from Lily."
She watches me dress, something guarded returning to her expression. "That's good, right? What you wanted?"
"In theory," I respond, suddenly exhausted by the competing pressures. "In practice, it's just one more complication."
"Because of us?" she asks directly.
"Because of everything." I sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. "The custody hearing is in two weeks. Dean's lawyers just filed some new motion. Now this tour decision. And you and London and... everything's happening at once."
She pulls the sheet around herself, physical withdrawal mirroring emotional retreat. "So we're back where we started. Custody, career, arrangement."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, Jaxon?" The vulnerability from moments ago is gone, replaced by the protective shell I've come to recognize. "Because it sounds like you're already pulling away again."
"I'm not," I protest, although I can even hear the uncertainty in my voice. "I just need time to think, to figure out how all these pieces fit together."
"Some things aren't puzzles to be solved," she says quietly. "Sometimes you just have to make a choice and live with the uncertainty."
The wisdom of her words hits home, but so does the fear they trigger. Uncertainty. The one thing I've spent my life trying to eliminate through careful planning, controlled environments, and strategic decisions.
"I should go," Vivienne says, slipping from the bed with the sheet still wrapped around her. "This was a mistake."
"Vivienne, wait—"
"No." She gathers her scattered clothing with deliberate movements. "We both needed this—closure, release, whatever you want to call it. But it doesn't change anything."
"How can you say that?" I demand frustration building. "What just happened between us—"
"Was amazing," she acknowledges, disappearing into the bathroom. When she emerges moments later, she's dressed, armor back in place. "But amazing sex doesn't solve fundamental incompatibility."
"Is that what you think? That we're incompatible?"
She sighs, suddenly looking exhausted. "I think we want different things. I want someone who's willing to take risks for connection. You want certainty, control, clear parameters."
"That's not fair," I argue, following her as she gathers her scattered papers. "I'm raising Lily, fighting a custody battle, managing a career. I can't just throw caution to the wind."
"I'm not asking you to," she counters, turning to face me. "I'm asking you to make room for possibility. For something that wasn't in your original plan."
The request seems simultaneously simple and impossible. Make room for possibility. For a future that includes her, permanently. For the risk of wanting something I might lose.
My silence speaks volumes. Vivienne's expression shifts from hope to resignation.
"That's what I thought," she says softly. "Goodbye, Jaxon."
When she walks away, I don't follow. The fear—of loss, of abandonment, of inevitable heartbreak—holds me paralyzed. By the time I hear the front door close, Luke has called three times.
I answer mechanically, listening as he outlines Dean's latest legal maneuver and the tour promoter's deadline. I make appropriate responses, agree to meet first thing tomorrow to strategize, and disconnect.
Then I sit in the empty blue room, surrounded by Vivienne's lingering scent, and confront the truth I've been avoiding: I'm in love with her. Desperately, completely in love with her. And I just let her walk away because I'm too afraid of what loving her might cost me.
My phone buzzes with a text from Luke, jolting me from self-recrimination:
Should I confirm the tour for dates discussed? They would like to send the press release out tomorrow morning. Custody hearing strategy meeting 9 am.
The machinery of my life continues, plans advancing, decisions being made. But the hollowness in my chest suggests that while I may have secured my career and improved my custody chances, I've lost something far more precious in the process.
And I have no one to blame but myself.