Page 40 of Just Wait

I’d have to be willfully naive to ignore the signs.

After a year of being together, you don’t think he deserves the chance to explain?

What if it really wasn’t what it looked like?

I’m so confused, and I hate how indecisive I feel.

One minute, I’m sure he’s guilty, and the next, my conscience says it’s not fair to jump to conclusions.

I’ve never been cheated on before, so I have no idea if this never-ending spiral is normal or if I’m losing my shit.

It’s gotta be both.

The door to the room I’m sleeping in slides open some time later. I’m on my side, curled up with a pillow cuddled to my chest.

I’ve shed a few tears, but I managed to keep myself from ugly crying. Mainly because I didn’t want them to have to hear me. Tour buses are cramped, even ones as spacious as this. They don’t have great soundproofing.

“Hey, baby doll,” Malcolm says, keeping his voice low. “Can I come in?”

I push up, using my arm as leverage. “Yeah.”

He reaches behind him, sliding the door closed.

It’s not pitch black in the room, thanks to the strip of LED lights.

My head tilts as I take him in. He’s in low-slung sweats that show off his hip bones, chest, and lithe stomach. He’s not bulky at all, but he’s not afraid to put his slender physique on display.

I’ve seen glimpses of his tattoos when he was in ripped tank tops or cutoff shirts.

He slides around the end of the bed, coming to the edge of the mattress, and I have a perfect view of the tattoos on his chest and stomach.

He has sharp hip bones that most women would kill for.

Okay, me.

I’m one of those women.

His hips and lower stomach are framed in a double set of wings. The top set goes over his hip bones, curving around to his back, while the lower falls just under his hips. They extend across his pelvis, and in the middle is an intricate cross with the bottom beam extending down into the waistband of his sweats.

It looks a little like an arrow pointing directly at his cock.

His chest and abs are covered in geometric shapes and patterns outlined in bare skin, and the effect is amazing.

Grabbing the pillow I’ve been hugging, I tuck it under my head and scoot back. “There’s plenty of room.”

“I know.” He chuckles. “I just didn’t want to hop into your bed without an invitation.”

He already had permission to come into the bedroom, but I can appreciate him wanting consent on every level.

Malcolm stretches out on his side on top of the plush black comforter.

Whoever designed the room has great taste. The blanket matches the accents on the shelving, and the dark plum-colored sheets fit the vibe perfectly.

“I’m sorry about what went down at the meet and greet,” he says, studying my face. “I wanted to cheer you up and to make sure you weren’t miserable standing around alone, but I know the fans can get overwhelming. I should have thought that through better.”

Is he really apologizing to me right now?

If anyone had a reason to apologize, it would be my boyfriend.