“I have to go. I need to fix it,” he says, grabbing his phone from my fingers.
“Is it really that bad that they think we are dating? Because we are.” I know what his answer is going to be as soon as I ask the question.
“Yes! This is going to ruin me. Ruin me, Derrick. How the fuck do you not understand that?” he screams at me. I flinch at his hurtful words. “You would never understand,” he grumbles as he grabs his things. “I have to fix this. I have to,” he mumbles over and over again as he disappears out of my bedroom. I should follow him, but I don’t. There’s no point. He’s made up his mind. I’m an embarrassment to him. The slamming of my front door is the indication that he’s left, as I cry myself to sleep.
“Derrick! Are you here?” I hear a voice calling out to me.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I hear footsteps in my home. Panic races over my body as I jump out. Who the hell is here?
“Derrick!” It’s Sienna.
Rushing out of my bedroom, I’m met by the concerned faces of my girls.
“We saw the article,” Stacey says.
“And Chance’s press release,” Vanessa adds.
“We wanted to check on you,” Isla states.
“I’m so sorry.” Sienna crumbles as she hugs me. “He never deserved you,” she says, bursting into tears. I let her hug me because I didn’t realize I needed it.
“Go sit down, this calls for tequila and shit talking,” Vanessa states.
“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon,” I tell her.
“So?” She shrugs as I let Sienna walk me out to my living room.
“I haven’t had breakfast yet,” I mumble, still slightly confused over what’s going on.
“On it,” Stacey says, pulling out her phone. “What does everyone want? I’ll order us food.” The girls start shouting out their requests, and I give my own.
“I don’t understand. What press release are you talking about?” I ask them.
“Shit, you haven’t seen it?” Ness asks, bringing a bottle of tequila into the living room with shot glasses. I shake my head.
“I’ve got it,” Isla says, handing me her phone.
There in black and white is a press release from Chance under the Sons of Brooklyn banner, basically saying that I’m just a good friend of his and Dirty Texas, that I’m just his stylist, and that we were there celebrating my boutique anniversary. His words hurt. And the worst part is, I believe them, and I know he does too.
“I’m sorry, D,” Isla says sadly as I hand her back her phone.
“What are you going to do?” I give her a shrug.
“I want to punch that asshole in the fucking balls,” Sienna spits.
“He’s a coward, D,” Stacey adds.
“We won’t let him get away with this,” Vanessa adds.
“Don’t,” I tell them. Look, I love my girls, but I don’t want them involved. “Chance has made his choice, and I’m going to respect that.”
“He hurt you, D. We won’t tolerate that,” Sienna tells me.
“Sweetie, I know you’re trying to protect me, but I’m okay,” I tell her softly.
“You’ve never been so calm,” Isla adds.
“I’m defeated,” I confess.
