Before I did that, though, I had to text Tristan. Even if he didn’t answer back, which he never did, I needed to say some things. Slowly, I spelled out how much I hated all of this, ending with the one question I couldn’t push out of my mind.
Do you even care about me anymore?
Closing my eyes, I let the tears burning my eyelids slide down my cheeks and prayed to God I could at least suffer in solitude.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t even have that. Just minutes after pulling the covers up over my head, I’d barely closed my eyes before I heard a knock on my door. I hadn’t told Gage I didn’t want to be bothered, assuming he understood that by my behavior all the way home from the city, so I padded over to the door and opened it to find not him but Daryl standing there. His bushy red beard looked like he’d been tugging on it all day, and he looked about as bad as I felt.
“Can we talk?”
“Now? I’m a little busy trying to sleep, Daryl. Come back later.”
“Why are you sleeping in the middle of the afternoon?” he pried, irritating me.
“Because I’m goddamned exhausted after my little shopping trip with Gage and the subsequent show you made us put on. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone. Why don’t you talk to him? Maybe you have some more things you want us to do together. A make out session on Broadway? Or maybe a live sex show right outside the gate so the press can get their pictures and their rocks off? Sort of a kill two birds with one stone kind of thing.”
“I can see you’re upset, but we need to talk. Tristan wanted me to tell you…”
I pushed my hand in front of his face to cut him off. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear another thing about what Tristan wants. I know what he wants, so thank you for that. Now leave me alone.”
Before I could slam the door in his face, he pushed it back and stuck his hairy face toward me. “We really need to talk.”
All the sadness at realizing Tristan was with Daryl but couldn’t even contact me, except to tell me to kiss another man, came flowing out of me, and I released the door. I didn’t care if my crying made Daryl uncomfortable. I didn’t care what he thought at that moment. I was sick and tired of his edicts or Tristan’s edicts, or whatever the hell they were.
I just wanted my life with Tristan back.
“Nina, I know this is hard, but it’s important.”
“I don’t care anymore! The only goddamned time Tristan bothers to text me back is to inform me that he wants me to kiss Gage? Are you kidding? I’m supposed to be okay with all of this? Well, I’m not!”
Daryl stepped back as my voice grew louder and louder until it was nothing less than a shrill scream. All the better. After all this time, I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit my fists against something, or better, someone.
“And you can tell my dear fiancé that he should be nervous. I mean, Jordan already thinks that I snuck behind her back to snag Gage from her. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m sick of waiting for Tristan and living here all alone. You had Gage move into the room right next to mine. He’s pretty good looking, Daryl. Maybe I’m ready to move on, even though I know Tristan isn’t dead. Maybe you should tell Tristan all of that and see how he feels. Tell him I’m all for fucking my hot bodyguard, you know, just to make sure the press really believes our story. Maybe then he’ll understand how awful I feel.”
I’d never seen Daryl surprised before. He usually wore a mainly bland expression with me, but at that moment, I saw that he knew I was serious. Maybe he even believed I did want Gage. Good. Then maybe he’d go back to Tristan and let him know that their stupid plan was tearing me apart.
“Nina, I don’t think Tristan meant to upset you.”
Rubbing the mascara from underneath my eyes, I snapped, “Well, he did! Let him know that too.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope with my name on it. I recognized the writing instantly. Tristan’s. Daryl held out his hand for me to take it, quietly saying, “Maybe this will help you feel better.”
This time one of Tristan’s love letters wasn’t going to do it. In fact, it only served to make me angrier. Shaking my head, I folded my arms across my chest. “Nope. You can take that back to him, wherever he is, and tell him that whatever he wants to say to me he can say in person. And since I’m getting closer and closer to Gage every day, tell him he doesn’t have to worry about me being in danger.”
I knew my words were harsh, but the ones I left unspoken were even worse. And I knew Daryl. He had no sense of romance whatsoever and little tact, so he’d tell Tristan exactly what I’d said. When he did, Tristan would read into my words, like always, and hear everything I’d said and what I’d left unsaid.
Backing away, Daryl still wore a look of shock on his face as he stood with Tristan’s letter in his hand watching the door close in front of him. I walked back to my bed and slipped under the covers again, swearing that I wouldn’t come out again until Tristan was the one knocking on my door.
That pledge didn’t pan out either, though. As I lay there hearing someone knock on my door once again, I found it stunning that in a house where I was surrounded by mostly men I couldn’t be left alone. It was like being in the middle of every woman’s dream of having men who wanted to talk. To me, it was more like a nightmare.
I shuffled over to the door, fully prepared to read Daryl the riot act this time. This was my house, and he had it coming. Flinging it open, I saw Gage standing there looking down at me. Reaming someone out would have to wait.
“I just wanted to check to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you want to talk…”
Gage’s voice faded to silence, as if he instantly regretted his offer. In truth, I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to scream.
“What do you want to talk about? How my fiancé thinks making me kiss other men is a good idea? How I’m devastated over knowing that he’s obviously with Daryl and can’t be bothered to even fucking text me to tell me he misses me?”
With each syllable, my voice grew louder until by the end, I was yelling at my poor bodyguard-turned-fake boyfriend. At that moment, I didn’t care if I was hurting anyone else’s feelings. I was just sick of what I was feeling.
I turned away from Gage and walked back to my bed, suddenly exhausted from the weight of my emotions. He cautiously followed me, taking a seat next to me on the bed as I began to sob, and put his arm around my shoulders as they heaved from my crying.