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He left to try and make something of himself, but he didn’t know he was already made. Made for me.
That’s what I tried to tell him. That’s when he left me.
So why I’m out here right now is beyond my foggy comprehension. My sister and her dumbass ideas.
A few minutes later, the driver pulls up to a large estate in Calabasas Hills. Bobby had sent me the address and pictures when he first got here. And only because I begged. But that was before he’d dropped off the face of the earth and my only contact with him was through the plasma screen mounted on the wall of my condo. It didn’t stop me from texting him each week, but I’d never gotten a single reply.
I grab my things and slide out of the backseat. “Thank you.”
“Good luck, sweetie. I’m rooting for ya!”
I manage a smile, even though my stomach churns, courtesy of the dozen donuts I’d scarfed within the past twenty-four hours.
I pull my Tumi carry-on behind me and I stumble over the cobblestone driveway leading to the main entrance of the taupe stucco mansion. Jeez, I could be very happy living here for two months.
Pretty soon, Bobby will have one of his own. Out here. Away from me.
I grit my teeth and grasp the door knocker, hoping he’s here and still in bed. He always was a pretty late riser, and I’d really like not to be stuck outside for the foreseeable future.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
A minute later, the heavy mahogany door swings open, and I swallow a gasp. I don’t know why I’m in such a state of shock, though. I knew all of the contestants were staying at the same house. They showed clips throughout the show of the group of hopefuls living together.
And then there were the rumors…
“Hi! Can I help you?”
Fuck. She’s even more gorgeous in person than she is on television. Tia Riley, wearing no makeup, long flowing hair hanging loose around her shoulders, wearing nothing but a t-shirt…Bobby’s Ramones t-shirt. It’s his favorite one.
My gut clenches, and I swallow the sob rising in my throat. Maybe they aren’t rumors after all. And I don’t really have a leg to stand on, anyway. It’s not like he was ever mine. “I’m, um—"
“Steph?”
The chills that slither down my spine send a shudder through me, like a brisk wind that rushes past and leaves me shivering in its wake. I turn slowly in the direction of the voice I hear in my dreams, the one I replay every week on my damn DVR. I stare into his bright green eyes, a glimmer of gold in the center of his penetrating gaze. His lips…those delicious lips I’ve kissed a million times over in my fantasies…don’t curl upward. They are stretched into a straight line. His expression gives me absolutely nothing. And I came out here why? “Bobby,” I finally whisper, my voice finally deciding to cooperate.
“What are you doing here?”
“I-I, um…I saw the, uh, show last n-night. I wanted to, um, c-congratulate you.” Well, hello, expensive college education! Aren’t you hard at work? To think I never took a course on stammering, yet here I am, crushing it.
He rubs the back of his neck and averts his eyes. “I wish you’d have called.”
“You wish…” Okay, that’s fucking it. I drop my bag, let go of my carry-on handle, and poke him in the chest. The rage? Yeah, it’s boiling over right about now. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head and shove him again with my finger. His body stays exactly where it was. I mean, he doesn’t even stumble a little bit. Pisses me off that much more. “You wanted me to call? And why, exactly, would you want me to do that? So you could ignore me again, like you’ve been doing for the past eight weeks? Tell me, Bobby.” Fuck the finger. Now I’m using the palm of my hand to shove him. And damn, it feels good. “Does it make you feel good to know you’re slowly killing me every time you ignore one of my attempts to reach out?”
He backs away from me, still silent, but I don’t stop. His cowardly actions fuel my fire, and I’m ready to throw down. “You left me! I fucking hate you!”
“Then why are you here?” His voice is so calm. I want to hear him yell and scream. I need the passion. I need him.
My mouth drops open, but no words come out. Because there’s a very fine line between love and hate? Because my life is nothing without you in it? Because I crave your passion more than donuts? And that last bit is saying a lot since I’m a hopeless sugar addict.
Bobby, as it happens, is the only thing in life I’m more addicted to than sugar.
He grabs my wrist and nods toward Tia, who is evidently still behind me and taking in this humiliating blow to my already fragile ego. The door slams shut, and not in a nice I’ll just let you catch up with your pathetic friend kind of way. It sounds more like the you fucked me and now you want to be alone with another woman, you asshole? kind of way.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he says, his voice low. Pained. Sad. Why the hell is he sad? He just won a million-dollar freaking recording contract! But his tone, his gaze, his expression – it all tells another story, one without the lottery ticket happy ending.
“You…you…” The thudding in my chest is so damn loud, so much so that it almost drowns out the accusations blasting through my mind. I’ve waited for so long to scream at him, to make him tell me why he left…why he left me. “I loved you, Bobby. I told you that, and you walked away. You barely acknowledged what took me so long to finally say.”
“And tell me why it took so long, Steph.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You told me you’d had these feelings for years. Why did it take you so long to say the words? Even before your wedding…I kissed you and told you how I felt. You left Brendan because you knew it wasn’t right, but you didn’t run into my arms, either.”
