He had never wanted to feel this powerless, and the worst part was, he’d done it to himself. She wasn’t doing this to him. She didn’t think he cared about her, but he did. He cared so much it sat as a lump in his throat and was a hard stone lodged in his chest.
He loved her. That was what this agony was. He loved her, and he didn’t know how he could push through the life he’d made for himself if he didn’t have a reason to be in it.
His phone pinged.
He flipped it over, and his heart lurched when he saw it was finally a text from Joy.
On my way home. Will explain when I get there.
He threw a few bills onto the bar and walked out to the lobby in time to see her hurrying from the elevators toward the revolving doors. “Joy.”
She jolted and turned, staring at him in shock as he crossed toward her. “What are you doing here?” she asked with astonishment.
“Looking for you.” He looked to the elevator as though he might catch a glimpse of whose room she was leaving. He had never felt so nauseous, so jealous, so terrified in his life. “Who were you with?”
“My uncle,” she said with a bemused blink.
* * *
There was a taxi outside the hotel. They stepped into it, and Joy nervously relayed the story to Axel on their short drive home. He barely spoke, but he listened intently.
“They live in Lyon,” she finished up as they entered the penthouse. “They have children. I have cousins.”
“How did you get to the studio this morning? Did you walk? You didn’t even take your jacket. Are you cold? Do you want to shower? Rest?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Hungry?”
“No, I had coffee and sandwiches with Lowell and Pascale.” She dropped her bag onto the sofa, then lowered to the cushion beside it, blowing out a long breath. “I’m a little talked out, though.”
“Good. Because I have a few things to say.” Axel paced across her line of vision, then halted to glare at her. “Don’t youeverworry me like that again.”
He didn’t raise his voice, but Joy jumped at his vehemence and pushed herself deeper into the sofa. “I didn’t—”
“I’m not finished.” His hand made a crocodile bite with fingers and thumb, telling her to shut her mouth.
Rude.
“I don’t care how angry you are with me or how big of an ass I’ve been, you will text me proof of life when I ask for it.”
“It was two hours—”
“Four and a half. You went to a hotel to meet strangers without telling me—”
“Are you being serious right now? This is an example of you being an ass, by the way. Should I text that to you?” She pretended to reach for her purse.
“I have been an ass since the day we met,” he said angrily. “You had no business marrying me. And you claim to have had the bad judgment to fall in love with me. How can I possibly trust you to have any judgment where strangers in hotel rooms are concerned?”
“You’re going to throw that in my face again?” She picked up the cushion from the corner of the sofa and hugged it, growing teary and stressed all over again. “I won’t have that fight right now. I’ve had a really emotional day, Axel.”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“No, you don’t!” She didn’t let him cut in. “Because I don’t. All I know is that I want to dance, and I promised Inga she could count on me. I know that ‘show must go on’ attitude sounds ridiculous or… I don’t know how it sounds.” She squeezed the cushion. “I only know that I can’t let whatever happens between us cost me my chance to dance. Not again. So I’m staying in Berlin. I don’t know what to tell you about whether I’m continuing this marriage or staying in this apartment because I’m really hurt.”
“Youare hurt,” he scoffed, glaring at her with outrage, then shoving his hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea what has been going through my mind since the doorman told me your driver was here and you were long gone? You didn’t even take a jacket.”
That was the second time he’d mentioned that crime. She wasn’t sure why he was so incensed about it. The April day had been quite pleasant.
