My heart leaps, craning toward her with abject longing, before remembering she’s no longer mine.
“You’re staring,” Ash hisses, subtly digging me in the ribs.
“So?” I say, not tearing my gaze from my ex-girlfriend. I will her to turn around. To let me glimpse those gorgeous hazel eyes and see if they are more green or brown today.
“There are cameras,” she adds, under her breath.
“I don’t give a fuck.” I drink Viv in, noting her stiff posture and the shuffling of her feet. Her head turns to look at her husband, and her side profile is in view. Her skin is as flawless as ever, the corner of her mouth offering a teasing glimpse of her lush mouth. A mouth I’ve never forgotten. I can still taste her on my lips. Feel the glide of her tongue dancing with mine. Still remember what her lips felt like wrapped around my cock.
I glare at Reeve’s back as he takes her hand and slides his arm around her waist before guiding her to their seats. My gaze trails their every movement as my heart pounds against my rib cage.
“You’ve got serious issues,” Ash whispers. “I really think you need therapy. It’s not normal to obsess this much after all this time. Let your anger go, Dil. It’s doing you no favors.”
Ash doesn’t get it because I’ve never told her the truth. In the early days, when I was a complete wreck after I returned from LA, Ash worried incessantly about me, so I downplayed it. Music saved me during that period of my life. Music was and is my therapy. I’ve run through the whole gamut of emotions since I lost Vivien, but one emotion has remained steadfast.
I love her.
I will always love her.
There will never be another woman for me.
If Ash knew, she’d probably have me committed. So let her think it’s anger and loathing. It’s better than the alternative.
My eyes remain glued to the back of Vivien’s head the entire way throughout the ceremony. I wonder if she can feel it. Thenwe’re called backstage, where Ro and I finish the naggin between us as we wait in the wings to perform. When it’s showtime, we line up on stage as the presenter is announcing us. I’m not wearing a jacket because it’s hot as hell up here under all the stage lights, so the ink on my arms is fully on display. I’ve gotten more tats over the years, and I wonder if she’ll notice.
I belt out the lyrics while hugging the mic and working the crowd. Every second glance is in Viv’s direction, and I can tell she’s panicking.
Good.
Let her know what it feels like to live your life on edge.
She’s so fucking beautiful; it makes my heart ache. Viv was always beautiful, but she’s really grown into her skin and she’s even more stunning than when we dated. A glow radiates from her face, despite the fear lingering behind her eyes. Small hands rest on her neatly swollen belly and anger flares in my chest. I knew she was pregnant as they announced it last week with a formal interview inVanity Fair. But knowing and seeing it in the flesh are vastly different.
I wonder if it upsets Ash to see her former best friend pregnant like it did seeing Clodagh’s pregnancy progress. That was a tough time for Ash and Jamie. They’ve only just come through it.
Knots twist in my gut thinking abouthisbaby growing inside the woman I love. It reminds me of that harrowing time when I learned she’d married him and had his son. For a while, I thought her kid might have been mine, but the dates confirmed he was Reeve’s. That was the trigger that sparked my anger, and I turned from a broken lovesick fool into an angry man hellbent on revenge on the woman who had wronged me.
I’m thinking all this as I give the performance of a lifetime, on autopilot, and I have the crowd eating out of my hand.
Well, not all of them.
I smirk.
Reeve watches me watching her as she dances in front of her seat, and I hope it’s created some confusion. He looks like the quintessential Hollywood prick in his custom-fit tux with slicked-back hair and a smug grin on his face.
I hate looking at him and seeing my reflection.
I hate we share DNA.
I hate he stole the life that should’ve been mine and he keeps doing it.
Vivien flees halfway through because it’s her usual avoidance strategy. My gaze trails her as she exits the auditorium and enters the hallway that leads to the bathrooms.
We finish our set to rousing applause, and I share a grin with Jamie. No matter what shit is going down in my life, I’m always happiest when I’m on stage. The only time I’ve felt happier is that summer in Ireland when Viv was mine. Back then, she usurped the performance high. The thought lingers and sadness mixes with longing.
I need to see her up close.
I need to look into her beautiful face and see those pretty eyes.
