“I’ll wait,” he promised as he gently brushed my hair away from my face. “I’ll wait for you. I think I owe you that much.”
“For what?”
“Until you realize we are still beautiful,” he whispered, drawing me in. I breathed in his clean scent and damn near went to my knees. “I can’t give you back the years I missed, but I can promise you, Dallas, we will have more.”
“Stop!” The soothing tone of his voice would be my undoing. “Don’t promise me anything. Don’t even speak to me about a future. This is over, this whole sick twisted fucking mess I made. I want it over, and I want you gone right now.”
“I’ll wait,” he said, not faltering in his determination. He straightened his tie then walked out the door. Pouring a cup of coffee, I sat and stared at my closed front door. Dean was naïve to think that time could fix us. He should have figured out already that time was what had ruined us.
“So there’s no hero for you?”
“I am my own hero.”—Room 212
Dallas
“Good morning.” Greeting Beatrice seemed to be a feat in itself. I just wanted to find a nice dark hole, crawl in it and live there.
But life doesn’t give a shit what mood you are in or if your world is caving in. Its demands are never-ending and you have no choice but to get through it, ready or not. I had already learned that the hard way.
“What happened?” Her tone was cautious, unlike the happy-go-lucky pain in the ass confrontational voice she usually used. Her concern put me on edge.
“Nothing,” I said defiantly, refusing to entertain that my newest break up should affect my life in any way. Concern clear in her features, she gave me an encouraging smile. My eyes narrowed.
That son of a bitch.
“So he calls you now to keep an eye on me? I suppose he told you everything?”
“Ms. Dallas—”
“Dr. Whitaker. You are not to ask me about anything else, do you hear me? This is a professional relationship. He crossed the line by telling you anything. Don’t ever address me personally again.”
I was instantly sorry. In my few years with Beatrice, I had never seen her so hurt. The fact that I was the cause was too much to bear. Walking away, I grabbed my tablet and got to work. I had no more time for personal matters. I was done with personal.
Dean texted throughout the day, but I ignored him. Apparently, he did not intend to be silent while he waited.
DEAN: Remember the drive-in with Brittney Sharp and Henry Rice? Fuck that was awful.
I couldn’t help but grin. It was one of the nights Dean had a date in high school and brought me along. Little did he know my date happened to have just broken up with his, and we spent the whole night listening to them go back and forth over whose fault it was. We tried to end the night early, but they insisted they could handle it, but were fighting again minutes later. Dean and I ended up hanging out while they fought it out.
I didn’t acknowledge Dean or his attempt to make me remember. Less than ten minutes later, I got another text.
DEAN: You were wearing a yellow skirt and light blue top. I wanted to kiss you so badly. You wore that damn strawberry lip gloss. I can still remember the way it smelled. I went to bed that night thinking about your lips. I got no sleep.
An hour later, I got another text.
DEAN: Remember when Ralph went missing? I took him. Paul paid me to do it to torture you.
I burst out laughing at his confession. Ralph was my pet fish. He mysteriously disappeared one night only to show up two days later. I asked my family for years who did it and no one ever fessed up.
I went throughout the day as Dean sent me text after text, talking to me about anything and everything.
My next text came at noon the next day.
DEAN: Please don’t ever pour hot wax on your vagina. Hire a professional. I will pay for it. Just a little vage man advice. I miss you…and your perfect vagina.
I spit out my diet coke as I read that one. I couldn’t even imagine what si
tuation he was dealing with at the moment.