Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

As I turned to the door, I grabbed ahold of the handle only for a hand to come down on the wood to prevent me from exiting. “Della, please sit down. You’re not in the mindset to go anywhere right now. You look sick.”

I did what I’d never done before. I shoved him. I put all my strength into the push and sent him stumbling backward because he was unprepared for it, leaving me able to throw the door open and storm out into the rain. Fitting. Clouds grayed the sky, thunder rumbled in the distance, and I thought about all those stories my mother used to tell me about Greek Gods.

“Do you really think they exist?” I’d asked her after she’d told me the story about Zeus. He’d sounded so powerful, so fearful, that I wouldn’t ever want to be on his bad side. But my mother had told me every story had some lies mixed in with the truth. That maybe Zeus wasn’t so bad, just misunderstood because people with power usually were masked by it.

It made me think of my father and his friends, the men who seemed so sure of themselves out in public. When my father was indoors, he was a different man. Kind, gentle, and loving. Nowhere near the person people seemed to look up to and be intimidated by all at the same time. I’d kept hold of that when things got bad because I needed reassurance that he wasn’t a bad man, just masked by his bad decisions.

“Adele!” Theo yelled after me. The rain was coming down harder, faster, but I didn’t care. I let it soak me, prayed it would wash away everything I felt since the shower hadn’t done it. I didn’t want emotions weighing me down anymore.

I needed out.

I needed air.

A black car came into view and Dallas got out with a concerned look on his face. Why he hadn’t left when he was told was beyond me. He’d always known when I needed him. It took him mere seconds before he was ushering me in the back and closing the door, gesturing toward Theo, and saying who knew what. I didn’t care.

I should have but I didn’t.

Because all I cared about was how I felt the loss of my father for a second time. Except, now it felt ten times worse. Before, I’d stared. I was shocked. Silent. Sophie yelled. Lydia cried. But me? I couldn’t. I couldn’t do any of that because I didn’t know how to accept what we were being told. I’d chosen to believe it was all a sadistic prank, like he’d pop out of the bushes and laugh like it was a cruel joke. I’d known better. My father wasn’t like that, but I needed to hold onto anything other than the reality that I’d never see him again.

“I’m broken,” I whispered as soon as Dallas got into the driver seat. So, so broken.

He looked over his shoulder. “I know a lot of broken people, Della. A lot who suffered through unimaginable loss like you. You’re not broken. You’re human.”

I closed my eyes and let the storm be the only sound I heard on the drive home. I didn’t want to be human. I didn’t want to be…

I didn’t want to be.

“Can you show me the routine again?” I asked, walking into Tiffany’s house the following day. She stopped what she was doing in the kitchen, making a pink shake, to stare at me.

“Hello to you too.” Amusement only lasted a few seconds when she saw my face. Her brows drew up. “Uh, like right now?”

I nodded.

She glanced at her shake. “Did you want something to eat first? Maybe we could—”

“I already ate.” The lie slipped off my tongue easily, and she only hesitated a moment before nodding slowly. It didn’t look like she believed me, but she also didn’t call me out on it.

“Okay.” She finished making her shake before throwing some of the dirty dishes into the sink and turning toward the back doors that led to the studio. She was already in her usual attire.

She sipped her drink as I set my things down off to the side and began stretching. I knew she was watching but I paid her no attention. Bending in half, I reached for my foot to stretch my calf and took deep breaths.

“I didn’t think we were training today,” she said after dropping down beside me and stretching too. “I was about to go through some things Judith gave us to practice.”

I straightened and rocked my arms to the side to warm up my obliques. I only felt a little bad I’d bombarded her last minute. “I almost have the dance down. I need a little more help to get in sync with the music. I’m always a beat or two behind.”

“You’re doing fine. We haven’t been at this very long. Hell, it took me longer to get my first dance down.”

Her compliment didn’t ease the tightness in my chest that needed to be expelled before I blew. Since getting back from Theo’s yesterday, I’d kept my phone turned off and my head wrapped around anything other than what he’d told me. It still nagged me, taunting, like a demon sitting on my shoulder and whispering in my ear. I painted angry black lines and red splatters and white slashes, but nothing helped in my spare room when sleep evaded me. TV didn’t keep my attention. Running could only last so long in the gym located on the first floor of my building, since running outside was something I liked avoiding if I could. What I needed was to exhaust myself until I had no choice but to collapse in bed and fall victim to the abyss of unconsciousness.

We started out doing the routine fully so she could see where I was going offbeat, then twice more together before she told me exactly how to fix my mistakes. It was easy enough, but I’d messed up again. And again. And again. Twenty minutes turned into thirty. Then forty-five. By an hour, Tiffany’s shake was gone and so was her shirt because it was drenched in sweat. She toweled off and paused the music, watching me still move. My back was to the mirrors, my eyes were closed, and I was busy trying to lose myself in each move even without the music.

“Della.”

I didn’t stop.

“Della!”

I cracked an eye open when a hand shot out and grabbed my arm during my last turn. “I was almost finished!” I snapped.