Turning, I drop my head against Joey’s chest and cry harder than I’ve ever cried before. His arms envelope me and he whispers reassuring words into my ear as I sob, drenching his navy blue polo shirt.
“Sweetie, did he really say that?”
I nod. “Yes. He said he doesn’t do serious and he’s just fucking me because he likes to.”
“Shit, Dylan, I’ve seen him with you. He’s not going to let you go without a fight and you know it.”
I shake against him and grip him closer to me. “Joey, I can’t do this with him. Please make sure he understands that I can’t see him. I fucking can’t.”
I back away from him and see him nod weakly, most likely fearing the Reese tirade that he will certainly be up against as I grab my keys and remove the spare one he gave me, placing it on the note I just scribbled. I look up at him. “I really hate to ask this, but would you and Billy mind if—”
“Fuck no. I already decided that you’re moving in with us until this shit blows over. Reese will break through that new window of yours if he knows you’re upstairs in your loft.” I give him half a smile and pick up my duffle, swinging it over my shoulder as the tears begin to fall again.
“Come on, cupcake. You’ll be okay.” And with one final look, I lock up behind us and let Joey move my body down the hallway and toward the elevators, because I have no control of it myself anymore.
After a quick stop at the bakery to pick up some things, Joey takes us back to Billy’s condo and quickly pours us two massive glasses of wine. He offers me the guest room, which I place my stuff down in before zoning out on the couch, staring down at my glass. I’m still crying, but not as heavily, only a few tears streaming down my face in between blinks. I’ve rubbed and cried off all my makeup and haven’t dared to look at myself in a mirror for fear as to what I might see. My heart physically aches, like it’s slowly being pulled apart by some unseen force and it’s taken its ever loving time doing it, too. I just wish it would speed up the process and rip it to shreds already. After several minutes alone with my thoughts, Joey joins me on the couch with a heavy sigh.
“I’m so fucking confused right now. Dylan, I really thought, shit we all thought Reese wanted more than just some casual bullshit.” He grabs my hand as I keep my head turned down toward my glass. “I’m so sorry, cupcake. Do you want to call Juls?”
I take a massive sip, hoping to dull some of the pain because alcohol is the poster child for broken heart syndrome. “I will, although I probably don’t have to. Once my note is discovered and he can’t find or talk to me, he’ll be calling Ian who will in turn inform Juls.” I swallow another gulp. “I feel so stupid. Everyone warned me about him, you especially. Telling me what Billy said about how he doesn’t and will never do a relationship.” I shake with my cries and have to put my glass down, covering my face as it all comes back again. “I hate him.” Joey wraps me up and hushes me as I convulse with intense sobs against his body.
This is it. This is what being broken feels like. And a man that I wasn’t even in a relationship with did it to me. Fucking hell.
Two days before the wedding.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Juls. You need to decide on a cake flavor now or you’re not getting a fucking cake.” Good Lord. I get that the girl only cares about her sweet husband-to-be, but shit. I’m in charge of providing something decadent and she’s only given me the type of flowers she wants on it. Juls just laughs at me as she flips through my design book in my kitchen bakery.