They leave the room to get ready, leaving just the three of us and Secret Service.
“Boy, Stella’s a piece of work,” Kev mutters.
“You ain’t kidding,” I say. I wish I could pull Elliot into my arms and hug him. I mean, I could, but it’d terrify him right now. “You all right?”
He nods. “I just want to get through tonight.”
“Three balls,” Kev says. “Then you can head out.”
“Thanks.”
Kev leaves. I walk with Elliot to our rooms. I want to slip inside with him, shower with him, dress him.
In another world, Elliot’s my husband and I’m taking care of my pet ahead of us appearing in public so we can dance together.
In another world, Jordan’s with us, helping me with Elliot, our secret strength.
In another world, Elliot’s father gives my pet the unconditional love and acceptance Elliot’s always craved, and Elliot’s sister isn’t a conniving, pushy bitch intent on cashing in on her brother’s fame.
Maybe I’ll finally get to step foot into some form of that world in sixteen years.
Unfortunately, tonight is not that night.
Chapter Forty
Now
My personal problems are irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, I suppose.
I need to do my fuckingjob.
Still… I end up using that plane ticket after all. I fly down to Tallahassee with every intention of talking to Jordan, and…
I chicken out. I spend the weekend following Jordan around and feeling like an idiot. Because I can’t make myself approach him. I text him once, just to say hello, while I’m watching him from several hundred yards away.
He stops walking, pauses, and spends a couple of minutes standing there before he replies to my text. I mean, people are walkingaroundhim because he’s literally just standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the path, while staring at his phone.
At the message I sent him.
I feel simultaneously guilty and triumphant.
Then I feel like an asshole, because obviously Jordan’s hurting.
Despite the California trip and weekend I spent with Elliot, nothing’s changed between me and him. Not in good ways, at least.
He’s still not going to ask me to live with him.
He’s still not going to publicly come out so we can be together.
I’m still his dirty secret, andfuckthat grates on my soul after six years with Jordan at my side.
When I fly home to DC on Sunday, I’m feeling angry with myself, irate at Elliot, and even more miserable than ever. No, I don’t tell Elliot I went to Tallahassee. It would mean having to finally explain to him why Jordan left and engaging in emotional discussions with Elliot that I honestly don’t have the strength for right now.
As two months without Jordan turns into three, and time rolls on…I eventually stop hearing from him. I also stop initiating contact.
Not…directly. I don’t want to make this any harder on him than I’m sure it already is.
Hurts like fucking hell, too. Not to sound like a douchebag but it’s the emotional equivalent of losing a limb and the phantom pains are fucking killing me, man.
