her.”
“She told me she trusted me to handle this, and now? Now, I don’t even know what the fuck to say to her.”
“How about you start by using her name.”
My knee-jerk reaction is to yell at him for the comment, but it dies on my lips when I click another link with the mouse and more images of Ry fill the screen: close-ups of her face, her tits, her spread legs, her goddamn everything.
I’m sure my dad can hear the sound of my fist hitting the desk through the connection and yet he says nothing. The drywall calls to me. It’s so much more tempting to hit—satisfying—because the destruction is there, visible, and yet helps fucking nothing.
“ Her name ? Easier said than done, Dad. I brought her into my public world, pushed her, and now this is what she gets for loving me?”
“I bet she gets a whole lot more than that, Colton, or she wouldn’t be with you.” His words hang on the connection as I struggle whether or not to believe him. Is the more worth enough for her to stick with me through all of this?
His words repeat in my head.
I sure as fuck hope he’s right. Everything’s been too perfect as of late. Is this the other shoe dropping to put me back in my place and remind me how cruel fate can be?
“Remember, son, marriage isn’t about how madly in love you are through the good times, but how committed you are to each other in the bad times.”
And as cheesy as my dad’s advice sounds, I hear it. Hold on to it. And hope to fucking God it’s the truth because the shit has most definitely hit the fan.
“She won’t even speak to me.” I chuckle in frustration and force myself to turn off the computer. If I see one more image I have a feeling the drywall will be too tempting to resist. Unclench your fists, Donavan. Shove down the urge to hit something.
“I probably wouldn’t want to speak to you right now either,” he says. “You grew up in this world. As much as your mom and I tried to shelter you from it, the cameras were always there. You’re used to them, the intrusion. She’s not. She’s always been a private person and now the two worlds have collided in such an intrusive way. You need to give her some space, let her come to terms with feeling violated, and then you need to do something to remind her how very special that moment was to you two so you don’t let the vultures take that away from you.”
Yeah. Because once they take a part of your soul, they only want more. And fuck if I plan on letting them have another piece of it.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m always here if you need me. Let’s hope a huge story will come along and brush this under the rug sooner rather than later.” One can hope . “You can’t control this, son. The only thing you can do is to turn your wounds into wisdom.”
My phone beeps again as I glance back to Rylee and her unmoving figure so very close but who seems so far away. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you soon. Chase is on the other line.”
“Chase.”
“You need to make a statement, Colton.” As much as I love my publicist’s straight-to-the-point manner, right now I don’t really want to hear a fucking thing she says.
“I shouldn’t have picked up,” I say drolly, the only warning to her of the mood I’m in.
“Or the both of you need to make a public appearance and show you aren’t fazed by any of this. The Ivy or Chateau Marmont?” she asks, knowing me well enough to ignore my comment.
“You’re reaching for pie in the goddamn sky if you think I’m going to let Rylee anywhere near a public place right now.”
“I get it, but you need to face the chaos head-on.”
“Out of the fucking question. Now tell me how bad it is on your scale.”
“Well, no publicity is bad publicity,” she says, causing every part of me to bristle with anger.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, but it’s what you’d expect from the fickle, sex-starved masses. You
“She told me she trusted me to handle this, and now? Now, I don’t even know what the fuck to say to her.”
“How about you start by using her name.”
My knee-jerk reaction is to yell at him for the comment, but it dies on my lips when I click another link with the mouse and more images of Ry fill the screen: close-ups of her face, her tits, her spread legs, her goddamn everything.
I’m sure my dad can hear the sound of my fist hitting the desk through the connection and yet he says nothing. The drywall calls to me. It’s so much more tempting to hit—satisfying—because the destruction is there, visible, and yet helps fucking nothing.
“ Her name ? Easier said than done, Dad. I brought her into my public world, pushed her, and now this is what she gets for loving me?”
“I bet she gets a whole lot more than that, Colton, or she wouldn’t be with you.” His words hang on the connection as I struggle whether or not to believe him. Is the more worth enough for her to stick with me through all of this?
His words repeat in my head.
I sure as fuck hope he’s right. Everything’s been too perfect as of late. Is this the other shoe dropping to put me back in my place and remind me how cruel fate can be?
“Remember, son, marriage isn’t about how madly in love you are through the good times, but how committed you are to each other in the bad times.”
And as cheesy as my dad’s advice sounds, I hear it. Hold on to it. And hope to fucking God it’s the truth because the shit has most definitely hit the fan.
“She won’t even speak to me.” I chuckle in frustration and force myself to turn off the computer. If I see one more image I have a feeling the drywall will be too tempting to resist. Unclench your fists, Donavan. Shove down the urge to hit something.
“I probably wouldn’t want to speak to you right now either,” he says. “You grew up in this world. As much as your mom and I tried to shelter you from it, the cameras were always there. You’re used to them, the intrusion. She’s not. She’s always been a private person and now the two worlds have collided in such an intrusive way. You need to give her some space, let her come to terms with feeling violated, and then you need to do something to remind her how very special that moment was to you two so you don’t let the vultures take that away from you.”
Yeah. Because once they take a part of your soul, they only want more. And fuck if I plan on letting them have another piece of it.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m always here if you need me. Let’s hope a huge story will come along and brush this under the rug sooner rather than later.” One can hope . “You can’t control this, son. The only thing you can do is to turn your wounds into wisdom.”
My phone beeps again as I glance back to Rylee and her unmoving figure so very close but who seems so far away. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you soon. Chase is on the other line.”
“Chase.”
“You need to make a statement, Colton.” As much as I love my publicist’s straight-to-the-point manner, right now I don’t really want to hear a fucking thing she says.
“I shouldn’t have picked up,” I say drolly, the only warning to her of the mood I’m in.
“Or the both of you need to make a public appearance and show you aren’t fazed by any of this. The Ivy or Chateau Marmont?” she asks, knowing me well enough to ignore my comment.
“You’re reaching for pie in the goddamn sky if you think I’m going to let Rylee anywhere near a public place right now.”
“I get it, but you need to face the chaos head-on.”
“Out of the fucking question. Now tell me how bad it is on your scale.”
“Well, no publicity is bad publicity,” she says, causing every part of me to bristle with anger.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, but it’s what you’d expect from the fickle, sex-starved masses. You
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