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Ducking inside the final room we reach, I slam the door closed, unable to keep up this ruse in the face of such sincerity. If Vaughn, the owner of Rogue, rears his head, I’m done for. He’ll see straight through me.
Falling to the ground on my knees, I look around the area, my eyes landing on my favourite wig.
Hot pink.
It’ll go nicely with the silver costume.
And despite my clarity of thought, I don’t move. Instead, I give myself another heartbeat to wallow. Another moment that feels like millennia to swallow my regret, to absorb the decisions of my past and know the choices of my present are what make me the person Ineedto be for the people I care about.
I’ve done what I need to do to get here. I wouldn’t change my path even if I could.
And the fact that Caden North married my old best friend, Layla, today doesn’t even make a blip on my radar.
I chose to leave. Ihadto leave. It wasn’t safe there. I wasn’t wanted there.
And I can never go back, so what difference does it make if he’s married her after all this time?
He wasn’t made to be mine, no matter what we told one another.
“You’re the air I need to breathe, Bam.”
Shaking my head, I pull myself together, forcing Caden North, the past and everything that goes with my old life firmly out of my mind. I have altogether far too many pressing matters to deal with. I don’t need these stupid feelings right now.
Rising to stand, I root out the silver miniskirt and crop top and begin to dress. It’s a fan favourite. The tips will help to no end.
Focus on that, Summer. Focus on the end goal. You’ve got this.
And I will myself to focus on making it through and doing the best I can with what I have, just like I have done since the day I left the North mansion fifteen years ago.
* * *
CADEN
“Your wife’s blood panel came back, Mr North. You’ll be pleased to know everything is exactly as it should be.”
My bloodshot eyes narrow when I pucker my brows in utter confusion. Shaking my head in disbelief, I rub my palms across my fuck-knows-how-many-days'-old scruff that covers my face.
“So what the fuck happened on Isla De La Cruz? She collapsed…I—I don’t understand.”
The tremor in my tone irritates the shit out of me, and I cross my arms, feigning impatience in an attempt to cover my reaction.
Dr Roberts, one of the best OBGYNs in the States, tilts her head to one side, an almost pitying look in her diamond-shaped hazel eyes.
“Mr North…if I may be so forward, I would suggest talking to your wife because,medicallyspeaking, there’s nothing wrong. Her physical health is impeccable. Your child is perfectly fine; you have no concerns there, Iassureyou. However…”
She trails off and glances down at her navy Crocs, her forehead wrinkling in thought.
Her movement allows me to glimpse Layla in the private suite beyond, where she appears to be arguing with Noah, the manager of my band, Misdirection.
When Layla had collapsed at our wedding in Isla De La Cruz, the private island in the Bahamas that I’d bought her as a wedding gift, Noah had jumped into the medivac that brought us to Miami. He’d not left my side, nor Layla’s, and had somehow managed to keep the entire thing from the eyes of the media.
No small feat when your client is the lead singer of the biggest band to hit the music scene since Jupiter’s Fallen.
Dr Roberts raises her eyes to mine once more. The pity from before is more prominent, making me swallow roughly. My gut twists in anticipation, and it’s not the good kind like before a performance.
“Mr North, my duty is to my patients. What they may or may not say must be kept in the strictest of confidence, you understand?”
She nods as though speaking to a child, and the cogs in my brain finally begin to turn.
