11. Dia

ELEVEN

MADS: Helllloooooo? Are you alive?

DIA: Nope. *skull emoji*

MADS: Haven't heard from you in 9 million years, so I wasn't sure.

DIA: OK, that's a little dramatic. It's been 2 days.

MADS: Name the last time we went 2 days without at least checking in. I'll wait.

MADS: You can't

DIA: Sorry. Yes, I'm alive. I'm safe. Not dead in a ditch somewhere. Did that ease all of your intrusive thoughts?

MADS: Yep.

I setmy phone down on Dalton's kitchen table, feeling immediate guilt for omitting the fact that I'm in the same city as Mads, but hiding from her. I don't want to, but I'm not ready to let her know what's going on right now. I'm not sure I want anybody knowing what's going on right now. Which is exactly why I've been holed up here since we got back from the RMV.

After we left the courthouse yesterday, Dalton took me to get my new driver's license. He only agreed to stay in the car if I put his last name on it, so I relented. I didn't want to be followed in there by a six foot one, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound man-child who everyone in the place would recognize and flock to. Knowing him, he'd flash his wedding ring to everyone who came close enough. It would only be a matter of time before photos of a married Dalton Davis would be plastered all over the internet. No fucking thanks.

So, I'm officially Diamond Davis in the eyes of the state of Massachusetts. At least for the next six weeks.

We also agreed that I would stay here instead of spending unnecessary money on a hotel room until we can file our divorce papers. That way, I can take all the cash from the sale of my ring and use it to settle into a new place in Boston before I have to find a job. Continuing to hide from Mads will be difficult, but she thinks I'm in Chicago, so as long as I text and call to check in, it shouldn't raise too many red flags.

Dalton left about two hours ago to meet with a jeweler friend who agreed to buy my ring. I would never say it out loud, but it killed me to watch him walk out the door with it. I've never owned a piece of real jewelry before. My parents certainly weren't worried about providing me with anything other than the basic necessities in life, and I've never been able to afford to treat myself beyond the occasional haircut and color or new outfit. But beyond that, it's a memory of our crazy night in Vegas that will now be sitting on someone else's finger. And the worst part of all is that they probably won't even know how special it is.

I shake the thoughts from my head as I walk over to the cupboard and try to find something to eat. I haven't had much of an appetite the last couple of days, but thankfully I'm feeling better now that we have a plan of action. Even though staying married and living here for the next month and a half isn't ideal, it could be worse. The silver lining is that once this is all said and done, I'll be closer to Mads. I won't have to feel so alone anymore.

Even though it's almost bedtime, I'm finally eating for the first time today. My stomach growls and I zero in on a box of cereal on the top shelf. I stretch my arm toward it, realizing that I'm just too short to get my fingers on it. I look around the room, double checking that I'm still alone before planting my hands on the counter in front of me and hoisting myself to my knees. Just as I go to grab the box, a throat clears behind me, making me lose my balance. I brace myself for inevitable impact but am caught by a strong set of hands gripping my waist.

"Holy fuck, Dia!" Dalton says. "You trying to crack your head open?"

I glower at him over my shoulder. "If you didn't sneak in here like a fucking ninja, I wouldn't have slipped."

He lifts me into the air like I weigh nothing before setting me back onto my feet. Reaching over me, he easily grabs the box of cereal, pulling it down. I reach out, expecting him to hand it to me, but instead, he carries it across the kitchen and opens the cupboard that holds his dinnerware. He takes down a large bowl before turning to the stainless-steel refrigerator and grabbing the milk. I watch, confused, as he pours the cereal and milk into the bowl before setting it in front of me with a spoon.

"Eat," he orders, making my jaw drop because hell no. He is not about to tell me what to do.

"No," I reply.

He raises a dubious brow. "No?"

"I'm not hungry," I say, shoving away from the counter and storming toward the guest room. I hear Dalton's footsteps behind me as I enter the room, attempting to shut the door. But he's too fast, pushing firmly against me and barging in. "Get out."

He stands there, unmoving as I pull the covers back and climb into the bed with my back to him. I'm hoping that if I ignore him, he'll leave. I just need some time to think about what I'm feeling and why. Why I'm so fucked up that something as simple as another person pouring me a bowl of Lucky Charms triggers me to the point where I run away.

"Who did this to you?" he whispers. "I'll fucking end them."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find my strength. But it seems like the more time I spend with Dalton, the more I feel myself giving in to the idea of being taken care of. And that would be great if this were a real marriage that wasn't ending in six weeks. But like every other relationship I've had, this one will be over, and I'll be back on my own. I don't need to fall deeper into this feeling of being cared for, just to have to let it all go again.

"Nobody did anything to me, Dalton," I say, still facing away. "I don't need anything. I can get my own food. I can take care of myself."

I feel his weight as he sits on the bed behind me. "I know you can, but you shouldn't have to all the time," he says softly. "Look at me."

When I feel like I have my shit together enough not to cry, I roll over. I don't make eye contact, instead choosing to look at his hand, which is resting on his bent knee. I stay silent, giving him a chance to talk, so maybe he says his piece and leaves.

"It's not really a secret that I'm glad we fucked this up the way we did," he begins. "I know it's not what you want, and I know you're going to leave as soon as you can. I've accepted that. I'd spend a fucking lifetime undoing all the shit that people have done to hurt you. Proving to you that you're worth so much more than you think." He pauses, swallowing roughly. "But I don't have that long. Please give me this, Dia. Just let me spend the next six weeks showing you what you deserve."

I exhale a shaky breath. "Then what?" I ask. "Go back to being on my own, but knowing what I'm missing out on? No thanks."

"Do you think you're the only one in this thing?" he asks. "The only one who's struggling? Because I'm being forced to watch my wife unable to accept a bowl of cereal from me because she thinks it makes her weak and dependent. I'm not like them. I'm not going to hurt you. Just let me in."

This man is practically begging to take care of me. Even knowing that I'm leaving him as soon as I'm allowed. Why can't I give him this? Am I really that broken that I can't suck it up for a little while and just be here with him after everything he's doing for me?

I want to, so badly. But I just can't.

I roll over, giving him my back again. He apparently gets the message that I don't have an answer for him as he stands up and quietly leaves the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving me wishing I was strong enough to give him what he deserves.

I wake abruptly when a severe hunger pain rips me from my not-so-peaceful sleep. I'm reminded quickly that I went to bed without eating a single thing all day. I check my phone to see that it's after midnight, so I quietly open the door and pad down the hallway. Everything in the house is dark, which means Dalton must've gone to bed already.

When I reach the kitchen, the first thing I see is a small, rectangular piece of paper on the counter. I walk over, picking it up, realizing it's the check from the sale of my ring. No idea how he was able to get more for it than he paid, but I don't have time to think about it before my stomach makes a very loud, audible growl. I set the check back down, vowing to go to the bank tomorrow to open an account, and make my way to the cupboard. When I pull it open, my heart squeezes in my chest. The box of cereal has been moved to a lower shelf, obviously so I wouldn't need help getting to it like I did earlier. The protein powder that was previously sitting on the bottom shelf has been moved up, since there's a one-million percent chance I'll never be reaching for that.

Fuck.

I was awful to him. And he didn't deserve any of it. All Dalton wants to do is care for me and I push back every time he tries to.

But the truth of the matter is that I'm starting to crave it. From the moment he washed me in the shower, all I've been thinking about is how much I want to let him in. I know he'd be so good to me, treating me in a way that I've never experienced before…even from my very own parents. He's already given me a taste of it in so many ways.

My biggest fear is that I'll get used to it, and when he inevitably realizes how unlovable I am and leaves me, I won't know how to go back to being alone. It's taken me my whole life to get to a point where I feel like I don't need anybody else. A Dalton Davis sized hole in my heart will surely leave me right back where I started.

But, for some reason, when I'm done eating and have cleaned up my mess, I find myself outside his bedroom door, the war inside me raging on as I quietly twist the knob and enter the dark space. Like a magnet, I'm pulled to the bed. Dalton lays on his side, facing the spot I previously slept in. It's empty, save for his hand that's stretched out, laying on the mattress. If I were there, it would be protectively wrapped around my waist.

That thought propels me forward, making me remove my clothes before carefully lifting his arm and sliding into the bed next to him. Before I even have a chance to settle in, Dalton's arm loops around me, pulling my naked body into his. I exhale a contented breath, melting into him as his breathing evens back out behind me.

I know this is going to hurt in the end, but for some reason, I can't stay away.