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“Shhh,” he says, glancing out the bedroom door, presumably to make sure Monica isn't nearby.
“I can’t do this. I can’t. You should’ve heard the things they were saying.” I wipe the tears from my stinging eyes but it’s useless because they’re toppling over one another at this point.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I knew I should’ve gone with you.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“We have to leave in a couple hours. Are you going to be okay?”
I shake my head. “I can’t go. You two go and enjoy it. Tell Monica I’m not feeling well.”
He looks at me with a pained expression. “I don’t want to leave you here on your own.”
“I’ll be fine. I just can’t face the possibility of that happening again today. It’ll be better if I’m not there.”
“Fucking paps."
“It was bound to happen at some point,” I say, getting control of my breathing again.
“Daddy?” Monica calls from another part of the house.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” he asks.
“You guys go, have fun. I need to gather myself. I promise, I’ll be okay tomorrow.” I do my best to put on a smile, but I can tell he sees through it.
“Daddy!”
“Okay, I’ll text you later.”
He kisses my forehead before getting up off the bed to join our daughter. He closes the door, and I roll over, my head pounding as the adrenaline leaves my system.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I predicted something like this would happen.
* * *
I waketo a hand rubbing my back. Slowly blinking awake, I see that it’s dark outside. I must’ve drifted off during the adrenaline crash. I rub my eyes and roll over to see Jimmy there, still dressed and looking at me with concern.
“Hey, how was it?” My voice is hoarse from sleeping and crying.
“It was fine. She saw a few people she knew from TV, and we were able to get some pictures of her with them backstage. I’ll show you tomorrow. How are you doing?”
I sit up and lean back against the headboard, blow out a breath, and run a hand through my messy hair. “I don’t know.”
He gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me, like I’m holding back.
“I swear, Jimmy, I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t be here.”
He rears back. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I can’t stay here. I can’t be in this city, in this lifestyle, anymore. There are too many triggers for me, too much of my past to be dredged up and thrown in my face every time I step out the door. And the thought of them doing that to Monica?” I bite my knuckle to keep from crying again.
“Sweetheart…” He tucks my hair behind my ear and tilts my chin with his finger so that I’m forced to look at him. “It was a one-time thing. They caught you unprepared. It won’t happen again. We’ll make sure of it.”
I throw up my hands. “By doing what? Hiding in the house all the time? Dressing in disguises so we can go out in public? Giving interviews where you lie so I can save face? Staying offline so I never have to see what they’re saying about me? What kind of life is that? I can’t do this. I left this life once because it wasn’t good for me. I won’t make the same mistake again. I can’t. It’s not just me I have to think of.”
His dark eyes widen as he stares at me, and I can tell I’ve shocked him. “What exactly are you saying?”
I look down for a minute, gathering my courage to do what I know is right. “I’m saying that there's no place for me here. I don’t fit in your life. I love you”—I brush my hand over his face—“but I’m going back to Kansas, back to my life.”
