Chapter Six
Dani
ICANNOT BELIEVEICRIED ON THIS MAN’S SHOULDERS.
Fury courses through my veins as I lift my head, finding a small patch of my foundation on his shirt. Not only did I lose control with someone who’s at the very top of the list of people I don’t want to share feelings with, but the evidence of that loss of control is now staring me in the face—on display for everyone he encounters the rest of the day.
All this because the past doesn’t know how to stay in the fucking past. Why couldn’t it be my old life wiped from existence?
When I started my career, I was overly sensitive. Every rejection and criticism I received felt like a personal attack on my soul. I would spend hours reading every nasty comment made on posts and videos of me to the point where I could recite them verbatim.
My self-worth was in the gutter. I looked in the mirror and all I could see was everything people didn’t like about me. I said yes to things I had no interest in doing that didn’t serve me at all just because I was afraid I wouldn’t get another opportunity.
When I left New York, I left that old version of myself behind. I toughened my skin until it was impenetrable.
I became known as the woman who oozed confidence out of her every pore and who didn’t hesitate to eviscerate naysayers with her words. People stopped trying me because they knew it was a lost cause. I became the one in control.
People like Nigel Pierce are the reason I had to transform myself. He was—and unfortunately still is—a huge name in the modeling industry. He was responsible for making and breaking far too many of my peers, and I was one of the models he made—and almost broke—too.
He preyed on my insecurities and made me feel like I needed him, like I would fade into obscurity if he stopped seeing the value in me. After all, if he hadn’t discovered me and booked my first show, I might still be in my shitty apartment with more roommates than bedrooms begging brands to notice me.
I haven’t seen or spoken to him in years, but last night he commented on my latest post. He didn’t even say anything worth getting upset about, just a simple “Dani Jenkins. It’s been too long, beautiful,” yet it sent me into a tailspin, sending my mood to the pits of hell.
The audacity to think he can just pop up out of nowhere and talk to me. And the one person I could talk to about it isn’t here anymore.
Tanya was the one person who knew the details of my past with Nigel. I knew telling her would make her murderous, but I also knew I could trust her to keep it to herself if I asked. If she were here, I would’ve come over last night so we could open a bottle—or three—of wine and plot his downfall.
Instead, I’m here to do away with her.
Being in this house is fucking with me. Everything in here is a landmine, waiting to trigger an onslaught of emotions.
I can’t do this.
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t want to be the person to go through all her things and determine their worth. All her things are priceless to me.
She was priceless to me.
And she hid everything from me.
She always did what she thought was best for me, so I’m trying my best not to be angry with her, but I’m so fucking angry with her.
Sucking in a deep breath, I try to ignore the increasing tightness in my chest and the fog spreading over all my thoughts.
Micah brushes his hands against my shoulders. I know he wants to see my eyes, but I can’t let him. I can’t let him see any more than he already has.
The sound of the doorbell is a welcome reprieve.
Micah lets out a small sigh, his breath ghosting across the shell of my ear, adding butterflies to my already rumbling stomach.
“That’s, uh, Bailey. She said she’d meet us here to help go through stuff.”
I wonder if he asked her to be here because he needed a buffer or because he thought I’d want one. Either way, her presence is a gift horse I won’t look in the mouth.
“You should go let her in. I’ll be down in a minute,” I muster despite my dry tongue.
Micah tries observing me again, but I keep my eyes focused on that fucking spot of makeup.
