I want something more.
“Lemon, this is a really terrible time. Can we talk later?”
“We can’t. I need to talk to you now.” My lower back felt sweaty and my heart was stress-beating. I sat down in the tub and pulled my legs up to my chest.
“What is it?” He sounded angry and put out.
This was not the time for him to act this way. I needed him to be understanding and kind and steady, all those things that I had fallen for. I needed him to remind me why I had said yes to marrying him.
Instead I was getting some angry, stressed workaholic. I admired ambition, but not at the expense of the things that really mattered. Like family. And fiancées.
“I . . . I have to tell you that . . .”
“What? Jiminy Christmas, woman!” (He didn’t say Jiminy Christmas, but I substituted it because our pastor told us to not take the name of the Lord in vain, and it was at least one commandment I could keep.) “Spit it out and get to the point!”
All I could think was that Dante would never speak to me that way. He never had, and I couldn’t imagine him ever doing it. Even when I made him angry, he was always a gentleman with me.
I couldn’t find the words to tell Sterling the truth. About my doubts and fears. How far away he seemed, and how I needed him to help me reconnect. I needed a reason to be with him, and all he was giving me was reasons to go. “I’m staying on the show for a while. I just thought you should know.”
“You wasted my time for that? Next time send me a text.” He hung up on me. I don’t know that I’d ever had a man hang up on me before.
For a few minutes I just sat there, shocked. I considered calling him back and letting him have it. Telling him it was over. I shouldn’t do anything while I was this upset, though. I might regret it. I climbed out of the bathtub. I handed the phone back to Taylor and caught a glimpse of the pity in her eyes. I didn’t cry. I was too angry to be worried about crying. I thought about calling Kat, but I knew she could be right in the middle of an interview. I’d have to try her later.
Because I had no one else to talk to about it.
You have Dante, said some evil, scheme-y voice inside of me. Dante did know about Sterling, but that was probably the worst thing I could do. It would create more of a bond, there would be more emotions, he’d convince me to dump Sterling, and then I’d have to face reality—that Dante had never wanted a relationship with me and was only chasing me because I hadn’t given in.
We were friends with an attraction, but that was it. He’d never said that he wanted more than that. He’d been pretty clear that he wanted to mess around, but nothing beyond that. Which wasn’t surprising, given his past.
I didn’t need a crystal ball. Dante had proven who he was. And he would cheat on me.
Remember that part? I told the evil little voice. Dante will cheat on me. He will.
I said it so often that it probably should have been my meditation mantra. Dante will cheat on me. Dante will cheat on me. Ohm.
And when it happened, I would be devastated. Totally destroyed. I knew it would be the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
Because I could handle it from the other men. I knew how to cope and how to get over it.
Just like I knew that it would be different with him, and I couldn’t bear it.
I turned a corner and nearly ran into him. He must have just come back from his date. I wondered which girl he had kept. I could use the distraction. I pasted a smile on. “Michelle or Tiffany?”
“I sent Tiffany home.” He started to return my smile and immediately stopped. “What’s wrong?”
How did he do that? I had been struggling to keep my emotions in check, to appear normal. I didn’t want to answer a million questions from the other girls, and I most definitely did not want to tell Dante. It would just give him more ammunition. “It’s, I was, um, talking to Sterling.” The truth just came out of me.
“And how is your insignificant other?”
I gave him A Look.
“What? Did I say that wrong?”
“Significant other,” I corrected him.
“Right. Sorry. English.” He didn’t sound even a little bit sorry.