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I don’t bother listening to his sputtering. I end the call and dial my lawyer, then my agent. Then, to drive my point home, I get arena security to have him and his posse removed frommysuite.
2
AURORA
There’sthis blissful moment between asleep and awake when the sounds of the city seeps into my consciousness, and for a brief second, I don’t remember.
I’m suspended in time, neither happy nor sad.
Then, reality sets in, and my heart shatters all over again. It pounds frantically against my sternum, and I lie there just listening to it.
I didn’t at first—the first time, I gasped for air and ugly cried.
Now, I focus on the steady rhythm and wonder why it beats so fervently for someone impossible to love.
Next is guilt. I shouldn’t have left. He begged me to stay, and I didn’t listen. I should’ve stayed. I want to scream it into the abyss until it becomes reality.
I should’ve stayed.
Why didn’t I stay?
Then comes fear—the fear he’ll harm himself.
But I can’t bring myself to reach out to him, to offer him hope. I don’t want to speak to him, and I don’t want him back.
I’m angry, so fucking angry.
A hot tear slips down my cheek, landing on my nose, and I don’t bother brushing it away. I gaze out at the dreary gray sky over New York City, staring into nothingness until there’s a soft knock at my door.
There’s only one person it could be: Ricky.
Taking a deep breath, I gather every ounce of strength to sit up in bed. I’ve never felt so exhausted.
“I’m awake,” I call out.
He peeks his head in. “Hey, come eat.” He scans my face, and his tone softens. “Breakfast is ready.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and do what’s necessary. “I can’t afford to keep you.” My lips quiver, and I struggle to remain strong.
He clenches his jaw, the muscle bunching, and enters the room. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No, but…”
“Jackson already paid me.”
I wince, pain lancing through my chest at his name. “You work for him.”
He shakes his head. “You’re my client, regardless of my employer. Anyhow, I ended it.”
“I can’t afford you, though.” The words barely escape, my throat tight with emotion. I don’t want to let him go, but I need to save every penny for the baby.
“He paid me for this trip. If he demands I reimburse him, which I doubt he will, we’ll talk. Now, come eat.”
In cotton pajama pants and a camisole, I remove the blanket and stand. I catch a wave of dizziness and nausea and return my ass to the bed. I’m shaking, and I briefly question whether I should call the doctor, but I know it’s only stress.
Ricky’s long stride eats up the distance. “You went to bed at seven last night. It’s been over twelve hours since you ate or drank anything.”
I lie down on the mattress. “I just need a minute.”