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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When the sun comes up and casts the hotel room in golden light, Drew stirs from where he passed out right after I blew him a couple of hours prior. I didn’t take anything from him in return because he’d done more than enough giving over the years. I wouldn’t think of doing that, even though Drew enjoys giving as much as he loves taking. It was my turn to make him, and only him, feel good for once.
He was right, though. What we’d done was wrong without me breaking it off with Lizette first. Hiding with Drew and keeping him to myself is as natural as breathing, and sometimes, so is the betrayal that comes with it. My shoulders ripple with tension as I look at my soulmate, cuddled up next to me on his pillow, breathing heavily and fully content despite smelling of old sweat and fresh sex.
He was right. I can’t—wecan’t be together again until I tell Lizette and the band. I have to do this in as fragile a way as possible. I’ve made one hell of a mess over the past few years, and ensuring no one gets hurt any further is my top priority. Unfortunately, in order to do that, I have to cause Lizette’s heart to break first, and that’s going to be a tough pill to swallow.
After a few minutes of breathing exercises, I reach for my phone on the nightstand, which is still turned off from yesterday.
I turn it on. As soon as my home screen unlocks, the weight of my actions hits me like a bull ramming its horns into my gut.
Twenty-three missed calls from Lizette. Four missed calls from Drew. Five from Mike. Even one from Sean. Over one hundred text messages.
I open my messages and to no surprise, find that the majority of them are from Lizette, Drew, and the other band members. One sticks out to me, though. I put my plans to text Lizette on hold for a moment and click on the message string I have going with Drew’s mother.
The last thing I texted her was the news of my engagement. It was cowardly to do so in atext messageof all things, but that was the only way I’d been able to let her know before the press got a hold of the news.
The words from her newest text hit me hard, but they would’ve sent me to a worse place had I not come to my senses last night. In the light of the new day, I hadn’t changed my mind about coming out, and I wouldn’t.
Mama Dawson: Please do not continue hurting his heart. It is too big, and it aches for you, mijo.
Drew’s mother has never explicitly talked with me about my relationship with her son. She’s always been in the know—hell, I think she figured it out not long after the first time we kissed. Nothing gets past her. Admittedly, I’ve been absent more often than I ever wanted to be over the last few years—pretty much since I started dating Lizette.
The knife in my chest that I stabbed myself with slowly turned, making my chest ache and my stomach flip. It took a good ten minutes to write out a reply. I had so much to say to her, and a text message wasn’t how I wanted to do it.
Me: Lo siento, Mama. I know I have a lot to make up for. I am making it up to him starting today. Te quiero.
Forgetting the time difference, I jump a little when my phone vibrates in my hand at her immediate response.
Mama Dawson: I knew you would make things right,mijo. In your own time. También te quiero.*kiss emoji*
And just like that, Drew’s mother—my mother in many ways—believes in me again. Just from one text. I don’t deserve her trust so fast, but I’m honored to have it.
I exit out of my conversation with Drew’s mom and click on Lizzy’s unread messages before I make up an excuse not to and avoid it altogether. There’s no point in reading what she sent because it’ll make everything about the situation worse. Still, I skim through the texts and shake my head as tears cloud my vision. Hurting her as I have—without her even knowing the totality of my actions yet—God.
Drew stirs beside me and exhales a peaceful sigh into my neck. I shift my eyes over to his profile and kiss him gently on the forehead before I return to my phone screen.
Lizette is set to meet us in San Francisco for the last show of our West Coast lineup before she heads back to Los Angeles in preparation for Fashion Week, which is only several weeks away. I hope that if I end things in San Francisco, that will give her some time to retreat into herself and heal before she’s forced to be her bubbly, bright and shiny, model self.
Damn it all to hell.
It’s still early, and in case she was up late, which she probably was on my behalf, I don’t want to call her and wake her. That—and I don’t want to lose my nerve.
Me: Lizzy, I’m so sorry. SO SORRY. I’m okay. I am so sorry I put you through that and I didn’t think to have someone contact you about my phone. I’ll see you in SF tonight. I don’t want to leave you with something vague, but…we need to talk.
I hate the text message with every fiber of my being. Whenever I get the “we need to talk” texts or phone calls, I immediately grow severely nauseous and apprehensive. But I had to send it. Without the precursor of our impending talk, I may lose the small backbone I’ve grown in the past twelve hours.
“Sean,I need you to sit down.”
His eyes bug out with concern, but he leads me into his hotel room. We arrived in San Francisco about an hour ago, and I let him get settled with everyone else in our rooms before hunting him down.
Drew decided it was best if I did this on my own, and I agreed. Something about having him with me while I tell my dearest friend of fifteen years doesn’t seem right. It’s something I need to face alone.
I have no plan to tell Sean, Brian, or Mike about me and Drew yet, because as far as they know, I’ve been loyal to Lizzy, and I want them to sit with the whole “gay” thing first, but soon enough, I will tell them about us. However, I’ll have to spit everything out to Lizette–all the lies, the affair, all of it–because I owe her that much and more.
All in all, I’m in for a very emotionally taxing day. There’s no way around it. I roll my shoulders back and down and brace myself. Sean motions for me to sit at the desk in the corner of his room.
We sit down across from one another in the matching yellow chairs by the desk. I sit back and look him in the eye. Sean worries his bottom lip and stares back at me.
