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A huge sigh of relief escapes me. “Done. I’ll text you my flight info once I get it booked.”
“See you tomorrow.”
We hang up, and I feel like at least I have something under control. That is, until I’m home packing and get a text from Trent.
Trent: Hey gorgeous, where are you?
My gut clenches with a mix of guilt, longing, and regret.
Me: I’m at home. Something came up with Elise and I’ve got to go out of town for a few days.
I nibble my lip, waiting for his response.
Trent: What’s going on?
Me: Just family stuff.
He responds almost instantly.Why are you being vague? What’s wrong?
I should’ve known that wouldn’t be enough for him. I’ve been making excuses for days, blaming work on why we couldn’t see each other. Of course he’s not going to be satisfied with my weak answers.
Me: Nothing.
Trent: Bullshit.
I start to text him another excuse when I pause, my heart aching with the realization of what I really need to do. I start and delete multiple drafts before I finally compose something that I can send to him. That rational part of my brain screams at me again, but the little girl that lives inside me, heartbroken and lost, wins out like she always does.
Me: I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I thought I could, but I think it’s too much for me.
I wait for a response. For him to fight me on it. But the text never comes, and by the time I realize I’ve made a mistake, I know it’s too late. I’ve pushed him too far.
32
The cushion of the chair gives under the weight of my body as I finally take a seat in the auditorium that is quickly filling up with patrons all here to see the premiere of our documentary. I heave a sigh of relief that we’ve made it this far.
This night has been exhausting—from the hours it took to get ready, interview after interview on the red carpet, and the constant barrage of fans and flashing lights from paparazzi. I’ve spent most of the day torn between worrying about Kasen and dying to see Becka.
We’ve been going nonstop for days, meeting with every press person in the state of California—or at least that’s what it feels like. But the endless hours of torture answering the same questions over and over again are nothing compared to the nights without Becka in my arms.
She’s been slammed with work getting everything done for the documentary premiere, and despite my constant efforts, our schedules never seem to match up. I’m trying not to be that clingy guy, but I miss my girl.
I’m so glad it’s opening night, and I’ll finally get to sleep with her tucked in my arms again where she belongs.
Kasen is another story altogether. Miles, Tristan, Robbie, and I have rotated who’s on duty watching him. Robbie took over for the premiere, but it didn’t escape my notice how antsy Kasen was during the red-carpet interviews. He was glued to his phone the whole drive over here, and all I kept wondering was if he was texting Charli. Based on the worried glances I caught Miles and Tristan shooting his way, I wasn’t the only one with that concern.
I wasn’t sure how he’d do during the interviews, but it seems like he pulled it together enough to get through them. He’s a lot calmer now, and it kills me that my first thought is that somehow he was able to sneak a hit of something without us noticing.
We need to have another conversation about what the long-term plan will be to support him because what we’re doing now isn’t sustainable. But that’s a worry for another day.
Right now, all I want is to see Becka and finally feel the serenity that only she can give me. I glance around the room, recognizing some of the faces of those here to see the premiere—other celebrities as well as execs from VibeTV and the PR team we’ve been working with. But there’s no sign of Becka anywhere.
I’m not ashamed to say I’m getting desperate to see her. This is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together after my tour, and I don’t like it.
Right before the documentary is supposed to start, I cave and ask Penny when she walks past where I’m sitting.
“Hey, Penny, where’s Becka? She’s here tonight, right?”
Penny’s sharp gaze scans the audience, a furrow in her brow. “Yeah, she should be. I thought I saw her earlier talking to Simone, but now that you mention it, I haven’t seen her since.”
