14. Dalton

FOURTEEN

"I don't knowwhy you're doing this," I say to Dia as I lug the last of her moving boxes down the stairs to my storage room. I can't believe everything she owns fits into three large boxes. And one of them is clothes. She got back this afternoon and broke the news to me that she's moving out to go stay with Blaze and Mads. I tried arguing, but she seems to be set on this idea.

She reaches the bottom of the staircase and stops, putting her hands on her hips. "What was I supposed to say, Dalton? ‘Oh, I married your best friend in Vegas and I need to live with him or we aren't allowed to get divorced.'? I can't do that."

It pisses me off because, yes, she can. The fact that we're hiding something so huge from our best friends is taking a toll on me. Yesterday, I almost word-vomited the entire thing when Blaze asked me where I've been during our workout session at the Blizzard facility. I could really use the guys' advice on how I can convince Dia to stay married to me, but that's kind of hard when I can't even tell them we're married in the first place.

I set the box down with a thud before looking over at her. "Are you really that afraid they won't support your decisions? You're so worried about Mads trying to get you to give this thing a chance, but what about me? What about what I want? I'm a part of this, too. Don't I get a fucking say in how our marriage is going to go? I should! At least until you leave me." The reminder of our inevitable fate hits me like a fucking diesel train. Six weeks was already not enough time for me to spend with Dia. Now I won't even get to see her every day? Hold her at night? We can't create the bond we need as a married couple if we're never together.

"Why does it matter?" she shouts. "You think you can just unfuck my brain into thinking marriage is for me?" She scoffs, throwing her arms up. "It's not, Dalton. This life is something that happens to people like you. People who know how to give their heart away without screwing it all up. But that's not me. I was never meant to be someone's wife."

She bites the corner of her lip as it begins to wobble and I know if I keep pushing right now, she'll shut down. This conversation isn't over, but I'm pumping the brakes for now so we can talk more when our emotions aren't running so high. I want her to know that I'll be here no matter what, even when we don't see eye to eye. And if in the end, I can manage to get her to stay, I want her to feel secure in our relationship. I was raised in a home with two parents who communicated in a healthy way with each other, as well as us kids. But all Dia knows is manipulation, lies, and being left to deal with the aftermath alone. So, for now, we'll shelf this conversation and revisit it after we've had time to cool off.

"Come here," I tell her, closing the distance between us and wrapping her in a hug. "You're perfect the way you are. And I'm sorry for pushing you on this." I kiss the top of her head and she exhales, sagging into my chest. This, right here, is how I know she's feeling something. Every time she's in my arms, whether she realizes it or not, Dia lets go of some of the tension and worry in her body. It's almost like she feels safe with me. And that is exactly why I can't give up on us just yet.

"So," I say, trying to steer the conversation to something not so heavy. "How are you going to explain showing up with only a suitcase when they know you moved out of your apartment?"

She loosens her arms but keeps them resting on my hips as she looks at the small amount of her belongings sitting next to my mountain of PR and endorsement packages. "I told them I was getting a storage locker until I find a place."

It seems she's thought of everything.

I look down at her. "Will you sneak out and come see me sometimes?" I don't want to sound clingy, but I know I'm going to miss her sassy attitude and having her warm body wrapped around me while we sleep.

"Maybe," she says with a coy smile. "Depends on what kind of orgasms you're offering up."

I wink at her before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Ohh, Wifey. You already know."

I'm in my rental car on my way to Mads' house with one measly suitcase in tow. I have this car for two weeks, but I'll have to figure something out after that. Maybe Blaze will loan me his Audi R8 again. Probably not, since I almost drove it through his garage door the day after Mads' birthday party. It's not my fault the thing goes from zero to a hundred when you barely tap the gas.

Dalton tried to argue with me about the ‘stupidity' of paying to rent a car. His solution? To buy me one. Yes, his answer to not spending a thousand dollars was to spend thirty thousand.

My husband, everyone.

I obviously told him no, because there's no way in Hell I'm taking that much money from him when he's already responsible for the one-hundred thousand dollars that's sitting in my bank account. When I find a job and an apartment, I'll see what I can afford with what I have left over after paying my debts and buy something used. It'll be the first car I've owned in my whole life.

I pull down their long driveway and park behind Blaze's truck. Mads' Mercedes is right next to it, so I know they're both home. Just as I start to hoist my suitcase from the backseat, I hear a loud scream from behind me. I barely get a chance to turn around before my best friend leaps into my arms, wrapping herself around me. Staying true to our rituals, I fall to the ground with her on top of me as we laugh and greet each other like a couple of crazy people.

"Jesus, you guys," Blaze says, walking toward us in a black hoodie and gray sweatpants. "I thought we had a couple of pterodactyls fighting in our yard. But, nope. Just you two psychos."

Mads stands up, brushing herself off before turning and holding out a hand to help me up. "Don't mind him. He's just jealous that Dalton doesn't get this excited when they see each other."

I flinch slightly at his name, but reel myself in before either of them notices. What's that about?

Blaze scoffs. "That dude walks around bricked up twenty-four seven. Like I want his boner smashed up against my leg every time he greets me. No fucking thanks." He reaches into the back of my rental and pulls out my suitcase, walking toward the door to the house and disappearing inside.

"So," Mads begins. "You're really here. I'm still trying to figure out why, all of a sudden, you decided to come."

I shrug. "Other than your parents, who do I have in Chicago? My parents couldn't give two shits about me. My job was wearing on me and didn't pay nearly enough to be so stressful. And most importantly, you're here. I wanted to be with my real family. So, here I am."

Tears fill her eyes as she leans in, wrapping her arms tightly around me. I hug her, relief flooding me at the feeling of having my person back. Even with everything going on, I know I'm making the right move by staying in Boston. Because in five weeks, when I'm officially divorced and can tell Mads every detail of what happened, I'm going to need her shoulder to lean on while I pick up the pieces and put myself back together like I've done so many times before.