Loving Dallas(54)

“Maybe I would’ve wanted to be there for you, Robyn. You didn’t even give me a f*cking chance.” Dallas snorts out a noise of frustration. “Don’t blow this off, like you actually give a shit about a bunch of girls hanging around the next big thing for all of five minutes until the next shiny new guy comes along? Come on. I thought you knew better by now. You’re the one that told me to play the part and keep what was going on with you and me under wraps. Remember?”

“The one on your lap looked dedicated. She seemed willing to hang around a lot longer than five minutes.”

“Cut the crap, Robyn. You know I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Don’t,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t make me seem crazy. I’m not overreacting or making a scene. You’re the one chasing me down here. They were all over you and you were lapping it up like a stud in the pasture.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

I gawk at him in disbelief. “Are you f*cking kidding me?”

“Are you?”

We’re yelling now but I can’t figure out how to defuse the situation.

“No. I’m not. I’m supposed to be here to do my job and that’s pretty hard to do watching the person I’m sleeping with getting molested in front of me. I’m having a hard enough time trying not to gag all over the place as it is. You were right. We shouldn’t have crossed that line because now we can’t go back.”

“I’m here doing my job, too, damn it. And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Go back? You want to unf*ck me?”

“I want to unknow you. I want to go back in time and never freaking speak to you. It always ends like this, no matter how hard we try or how many things we try to do differently.”

“What do you want me to do, babe? Tell the next woman that touches me to keep her goddamn hands to herself? Do you have any idea what that would do to my career? Who do you think buys my music? Have you paid attention to who’s filling those seats at every show? This is part of it. This is the gig, sweetheart. You’re the one who planned this f*cking party for this very reason. I thought you got that.”

“No.” I shake my head and wipe the tears threatening to spill from my eyes before they can fall. “The party is to celebrate the music, the sales, and—”

“It’s the same damn thing!” Dallas throws his hands up, looking at me like I’m brain dead and he’s tired of dumbing everything down for me. “It’s me. That’s what I’m selling here. Me. I need them to buy into me as an artist. I can’t do that by being an * to them.”

He’s about to reiterate his whole “Performer Dallas” versus “Person Dallas” spiel but I just can’t hear it right now.

“Go on and get back to your party, Dallas.”

“You want me to leave?”

I nod. “I do.”

“You sure? I just want to be clear so if I go you don’t hold it over my head for the next five years.”

I have no words.

None.

The bile burns too hot, sending an acidic searing sensation through my chest and into my throat.

When I finally find my voice, it’s eerily even. “Do not throw our past into my face. I have never held anything over your head. If anything, I let you off the hook too easily.”

Dallas smirks and shakes his head. “What f*cking hook, Robyn? You dumped me, remember? Instead of letting me be there for you, you lied to me—kept something huge from me. And you’re the one who gets to be pissed? I’m throwing the bullshit flag on that one.”

I blow past him and out of the room like a wayward hurricane of hellfire. I am not doing this at a work-related event. Moreover, I can’t. Because I’m about to be sick again.

I make it outside to where valets in red vests are retrieving cars before I vomit in the bushes beside the building.

The entire world spins, kind of how my life is spiraling out of control while I’m powerless to stop it. All I can do is kick my purse out of the way, brace my hands on my knees, and let it come.





30 | Dallas

WHY I’M FOLLOWING A WOMAN OUTSIDE WHO CLEARLY WANTS nothing more to do with me, I can’t be certain. But I do know that something is wrong.

I’ve never seen Robyn that pale or that hateful. She’s been pissed at me before, sure, but this was a whole new level that felt dangerously close to actual hatred.

I don’t know if I could live with myself if Robyn hated me. And I know I definitely couldn’t live with myself if I let her go home alone looking the way she did. I’m almost positive the anger was the only thing holding her upright. The protective instincts I’ve honed from years of being an older brother kick in and I press on through the partygoers.

If I could go back in time and stand up so that Carly or Callie or whatever the hell her name was wouldn’t have sat on my lap, I would do whatever it took to get there. The last thing I ever wanted was to be the reason for that wounded look in Robyn’s eyes. She can put on her angry face all she wants; that was pure unadulterated pain I saw while she yelled at me.

Once I’m outside where people are getting in and out of cars, I look around but Robyn is nowhere to be seen. Someone obviously had too many of the Midnight Bay blue shooters because I can hear them retching even over the music. When it continues to the point that I’m fearful for their life, I jog over to where the sound is coming from.