CHAPTER 32
Delia
“Delia, come on. Why the hell are we doin’ this over the phone?”
“Because I’m about to go into to work,” I said.
“Why didn’t you come back yesterday? I waited up for you,” Drake said.
“I needed a good night sleep and some quiet. What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“You can’t get a good night sleep with me?”
“I didn’t call you so we could fight. Again. What is it you want?” I asked.
“Look, I got another tour that starts tomorrow. Six acoustic nights, since the guys in the band don’t think I’ll be any fun sober.”
“That sounds good. It could help rehabilitate your public image,” I said.
“Ya sound like Hank.”
“Then Hank’s got a point.”
“The last one’s in Nashville. Couple of weeks from now. Will you be there for it?”
“Do you want me to be?”
“Of course I want my girlfriend and the mother of my child there with me,” he said.
“Then yeah. I’ll be there,” I said. Hearing him say those words brought a smile to my face. Even with all the problems, I still couldn't deny that I cared for this man, deeply.
“I’ll have Hank set aside a ticket for you at will call. Just give them your name and you can get it. It’ll get you backstage and I can kiss you before I head on out to sing.”
I shoved my earrings into my ears as Drake continued to rattle on. I didn’t go to his house after work on Monday because I was tired and upset. The fight we had that morning about me just going into work was enough to exhaust me, then I had to put in nine hours at work doing mindless paperwork. I had gotten away from Drake’s ranch and I wasn’t ready to go back. I wasn’t ready to fight him every time I had to leave to go to work.
I knew he was just worried about me. After what happened to his wife, I couldn't blame him. However, this was my life. I couldn't fuck things up with this new job just because he couldn't get a grip. Besides, it scared me how fast I was falling for him, and how fast he seemed to be falling for me too.
I hung up the phone with Drake and focused on work. I had a long day of paperwork waiting for me and my boss was hovering over me every second he could. My coworker was quickly becoming a wonderful support system, however. While I fussed with all the paperwork, Stacia was fussing with insurance and taking phone calls for appointments. We worked side by side a lot of the time, and she greeted me Monday morning with edible chocolate flowers sitting on my small desk.
“Gotcha some coffee,” Stacia said. “It’s sittin’ on your desk. And it’s decaf so it’s safe for you to drink. Plus I loaded it up with chocolate syrup and creamer.”
I groaned as I sat down and pulled out the files of paperwork I had to complete.
“All right. I know that sound. Spill,” she said.
“It’s bad that you know that sound. I’ve only worked here a week,” I said.
“It’s that man of yours, isn’t it? Girl, he’s a hunk.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sighed. “But he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“All men are pains in our asses, hon,” Stacia chuckled. “But we love 'em anyway.”
“Love? Who said anything about love?” I giggled, trying to hide the color rising in my cheeks.
Stacia gave me a look that said she could see right through me.
“My question still stands, hon. Now, what’s goin’ on with you and Mr. Chiseled Jeans?” she asked.
“He’s trying to control my every move,” I said. “Where I go. What I do. Where I sleep. I told you about the fight we had yesterday with just me leaving the house. Now he’s upset that I didn’t go back last night.”
“Can ya blame him? You call him cryin’ from a hospital bed ‘bout bein’ pregnant with his kid, he comes a’runnin,’ then you just wanna shove him away again? You’re throwin’ the poor man under the bus for wantin’ to protect ya.”
“He’s not protecting me. He’s controlling me.”
“Potato, Potat-oh. Same damn difference,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“In his eyes, he is protecting you. He's scared shitless, girl, because he loves you and doesn't want to lose you. Maybe he's not goin' about it in the right ways, sure... You're independent, so of course if freaks ya out, but it's nothin' you can't work out. Take me and my man for instance - we have a routine. Breakfast on the table by seven, I usually cook. Nice strong coffee for him, oatmeal for me. We shower together, touch base durin' lunch to make sure the other one's doin' fine. Then I come home, and he's already started on dinner, whatever he's in the mood for. We cuddle on the couch, maybe some evening lovin' and then we sleep.” ”
“Every day? And you just—let him make all those decisions for you?” I asked.
“Who the hell said he made all those decisions? Girl, we came up with that schedule together. That’s what you do in a relationship. That man wanted you to come to his home so he could cook you some dinner and make sure you were okay. That’s all.”
“He wanted to keep me there on Monday. He didn’t want me coming into work,” I said.
“Until a doctor cleared you, that's all. Because he was worried about you, hon. Not because he wanted to keep you captive.”
I shook my head and got back to work, but she had a point. A relationship was give and take, and while I thought he was doing all the taking, that wasn’t really what was happening. It would take conversations to figure this stuff out, and we couldn’t have those conversations if I was avoiding him.
So, during lunch, I talked with Stacia about another issue I had.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” she said.
“The father of my child—”
“We gonna act like I don’t know who that is?” she asked.
“Can we?”
“Girl, if we can’t even mention the man’s name, then let’s address that. You’re scared, hun.”
“I’m not scared. Just wary of things getting out to the media.”
“Sweetie, if I wanted to run to the media, I’da done it this weekend. You can’t say his name, then we’re gonna address that first,” she said.
“Fine. Drake. He’s a bit—forceful.”
“Uh huh. Forceful how?” she asked.
“Just sort of—kisses me out of the blue. Picks me up and tosses me onto his bed. Tells me what to do and expects me to listen. He just thinks I should—follow his lead.”
“He's dominant, a bit of an alpha male. What’s your point?”
“That’s not good, right?”
“Depends. How do you feel about it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Girl, are you givin’ into him because you like it, or givin’ into him because you think he’ll hurt you if ya don’t? Because if you like it, then what’s the problem? And if it’s the latter, we don’t need to be talkin’, you need to be leaving his ass.”
I thought about her question for a minute. Did I like it when Drake manhandled me?
“I guess I like it,” I said.
“You don’t even know what you like?”
“Okay, okay. Yes. I like it. But I just—”
I sighed, as I put my head in my hands, trying to calm my raging mind.
“Girl, you got some stuff to work through. You’re scared, plain and simple. Scared of intimacy. Scared of bein’ with him. Scared of takin’ a chance. And no one’s blaming you for that. But you gotta own up to it. You gotta admit that to him. Because I bet if you do, you’ll find he’s scared, too. Just like you are.”
“Drake never gets scared,” I said.
“Was he scared when you were in that hospital bed? Because it sure as hell sounded like it from the way Mr. Hart was talkin’.”
It was like that every day for two solid weeks. Every day Drake was gone, I opened up more and more about my hesitations and reservations about being with him. And every day, she had more advice for me. She treated me like a friend but talked to me like a mother. She gave me advice that was hard to hear, but also included things I needed to think about. I treasured those lunch hours with her. It helped me to sift through my emotions and see the ways I was going wrong, even though Drake was going wrong as well.
Clearing my head with Stacia allowed me to focus more on my work. And because of that better focus, Mr. Hart pulled me into his office. He told me that he was so impressed with the way I treated patients after their appointments that he was going to assign me my first client to work with. I would have a regularly established time with them during the week. Mr. Hart would allow me to use his office to conduct the weekly meetings. I would be allowed to offer plans of action so long as he approved them beforehand.
And if all went well with my first client, then he would give me another one.
I was ecstatic, and so immersed in my work that the two weeks without Drake flew right on by. I wrapped up things with the P.A. company and received my last paycheck from them just as I was preparing to work with my first client. Thankfully, the nausea I’d been experiencing was finally lifting.
The night of the concert came around.
It had been a long day at work and all I wanted to do was rest. I wanted to kick my heels off, put my feet up, and watch mindless television while eating takeout Chinese off my stomach. But Stacia’s words kept echoing off the chambers of my mind. I could hear her calling me scared, telling me I was running instead of making things work, that I had issues I needed to sift through with him and that I would always be connected to him, so I might as well make the best of it. I tried to block out her words as I turned on the television, but the louder I turned it up, the louder her voice screamed in the back of my mind.
I had to face things head on. If this was going to work with Drake and I, then I needed to show him that I was willing to work on things with myself.
He was trying, and now it was my turn to give him the same courtesy.