“And Duncan?” Kate’s voice turned harder.
“Yeah?”
“My dad was a Marine. You’re not the only one who knows things. Hurt Erza, and I’ll make hell week seem like a run in the park. Got it?”
“I’ve got it.” I wanted to tell her more, let her know I never wanted to hurt Ezra again, but I needed to find him first, tell him rather than Kate all my messy thoughts. If I was going to be making anyone any promises, it would be Ezra.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ezra
The world hovered over my head, large and imposing, dwarfing me and my petty concerns. I’d spent many hours of my life in exactly this spot, on a sunny bench under the big earth sculpture in the little park near my parent’s place. If my parents had been surprised to have me turn up on their doorstep yesterday, they had been kind enough to not show it.
I’d briefly debated an island somewhere remote or maybe a retreat in the mountains. Somewhere I could be quiet and think. But there was nowhere I could do that better than right here. I had a lot of famous friends who collected real estate all over the world, but I’d never had the urge to put down new roots. I liked the ones I had here just fine.
However, ever since bringing Duncan home, I’d understood why people bought houses, settled down, put up paintings, and collected knickknacks. People needed quiet spaces, places and people they could hibernate with. And I’d let my dislike of being alone keep me from acknowledging that need.
Hell, I’d come here because I was willing to admit I couldn’t think surrounded by my people and other distractions, but I was restless and twitchy. Across from me, young families crowded the playground, and farther in the distance, bikers and walkers dotted the path that looped the park. And I’d never felt more alone.
God, was I really such an attention whore that I couldn’t go twenty-four hours without being noticed? I could freely admit I loved applause, lived for the rush of performing, loved adoration. But none of that felt as good as waking up with Duncan in my parents’ guest room had. I’d been first to wake up that morning, and he’d been curled into me, seeming much smaller than his usual ripped self. I’d put my arms around him, and there was nowhere I’d have rather been than right there.
Fuck. I missed him. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t, but I pulled out my phone. Message from Kate. Proof of life. I’m worried about you.
I turned to get a fast selfie without the globe in it. I’m alive. I’m safe. You don’t need to worry. Alive was maybe pushing it. I was breathing, and my heart was pumping, but I’d been in some sort of zombie coma since Duncan left my hotel suite.
Because you ordered him gone, my brain supplied. Hell. I had. I hadn’t even given him a chance to reply, had answered for him, and sent him away, axing any possibility of things working out. I’d been hurt and angry, and as usual, I’d acted without thinking it through. And now I was here, alone, scrolling my phone, looking at random news stories to avoid the trash heap of my feelings.
One headline jumped out from the rest. Embattled power broker, Daryl Lubov, to marry for fifth time amid allegations of improper conduct.
Damn. The article had hundreds of comments and shares already. I refuse to be a punchline. When Duncan had said that, I’d been hurt and reeling from rejection, but with a little more distance, I saw his words in a new light. His father was a punchline. He might be one of Hollywood’s most powerful dealmakers, but he’d also made a career out of a scandalous love life and disregarded all the rumors of bad behavior that swirled around him. Daryl Lubov was, by all accounts, a class-A asshole.
Duncan wasn’t.
Duncan was objectively one of the best people I’d ever met, even before we’d kissed, before I’d seen his face softened by passion, before I knew what his voice sounded like pained, before I’d watched him with my family. Before I’d fallen so damn hard.
But even without all those little moments, he was a good guy, an incredible leader, loyal friend, impassioned rescuer, and human being committed to doing better. And I’d talked him into this fling like all of that was nothing more than a candy wrapper to be discarded instead of the whole damn man.
Duncan was his reputation.
It mattered to him, not because he was obsessed with appearances, but because of who he was. I got it now.
“Whee! Daddy, catch me!” At the playground, a little girl with pigtails flew down the slide, knocking her waiting father over when she landed in his arms.
I inhaled sharply and looked away, directing my gaze back to the path, family scene too sweet for my wounded heart. Had I told Duncan I’d catch him if he fell? Had I offered anything other than an ultimatum? Had I given him a reason to say yes to a relationship?