Damn. What a loaded question.
I took a deep breath and thought long and hard about how I was supposed to answer that.
“Why all the girls, Cole? Why wasn’t I ever enough for you?” I asked posing the question that had tormented me for so long. I hated how weak and vulnerable I sounded, but it needed to be answered. If I was ever to move on, if I was to ever get past this thing with Cole, I had to know why he continued to hook up with other women when he had me.
What was it about me that didn’t fulfill him?
“God, Viv,” he murmured, cupping my cheek.
“You have always been more than enough for me. When you’re around, everything else fades away. All I see, all I want is you.”
“Then why, Cole? Why did you humiliate me over and over again?” I demanded, my voice cracking with emotion.
He rubbed his thumb along my skin; his eyes agonized.
“Because I’m a fucking idiot. Because I thought that being with all of those women meant that I mattered. That they wanted me. I was trying like hell to fill this ugly void inside and I ended up only feeling empty. Until I was with you. And then you made me feel alive.”
My heart fluttered wildly in my chest. Hadn’t I just thought the same thing about him?
“You made me look like a moron, Cole. People think I’m a total doormat for putting up with your shit. I hate the way you make me look,” I whispered, feeling my eyes start to glaze over, hot with unshed tears.
“Baby, you’re not a moron. I’m the moron. I’m the dumbass who didn’t see what I had until it was gone. I took for granted that you were there. That you would always be there. Until you weren’t anymore. And then all this stuff started going down with the band and the only person I wanted to talk to was the one person who wanted nothing to do with me.”
I pulled back. His hand on my face was far too intimate.
“Growing up, all I had were my looks. The girls wanted me because I was nice to look at. And I used it to my advantage. I didn’t have parents that wanted me around so I found attention where I could. And then the band happened and it was like everyone wanted me. And for the first time in my life I thought that I had something that could make me happy. But I was wrong. Because those girls, the audience, they don’t want me. They want the singer. The image. There are only a handful of people on this earth that know the real Cole Brandt. And I’ve systematically shit on each and every one of them.”
Cole leaned back on the couch and covered his face with his hands. I didn’t move. I didn’t comfort him. I let him be. He needed to have this realization on his own. I wouldn’t coddle or console him. He needed to feel the pain and the ugly. He needed to see how his selfish behavior had impacted everyone around him.
This was Cole’s come to Jesus moment.
“Jose has been telling me I’d be more successful going out on my own. He says there’s a major label that wants to consider signing me, but as a solo act. Not with the Rejects,” he let out in a rush.
“Why don’t they want the Rejects?” I asked, not understanding.
Cole lowered his hands but wouldn’t look at me.
“Jose says I’m where the money’s at. I’m the one bringing the chicks in the door. I’m the image and the appeal. He’s blown so much smoke up my ass I’m probably going to float the fuck away. He says he’s found a clause that will get me out of my Pirate Records contract. And then I’ll be free to sign with who ever I want. I’ll be able to write my own music. Do my own thing. He says the guys are holding me back.”
“And what do you think?” I asked.
“I think my head is a mess and I don’t know what I think.”
Slowly, I reached out and took his hand, gripping it. He turned his palm up and twined his fingers with mine.
“Well, stop thinking with your head. What does your heart say?” I asked.