He stalks around the table, coming close to me. His anger is radiating and it makes me want to step back, but I fight the urge.
“I won’t give up until you believe me, Tru,” he says low, leaning into my face. “I won’t stop fighting for you – for us. I want you back and I will keep on trying, with whatever methods I can, until you believe that I’m telling you the truth – that you forgive me for letting you down with the drugs, and that I have you back in my life again.”
Giving me one last determined stare, he turns abruptly and stalks out of the restaurant, leaving me trembling to the core, and alone with the stares of the waiting staff who were just witness to our fight.
Wrapping my arms around my chest, my face burning, I bite back tears, and on unsteady feet I quickly leave the restaurant heading straight for my room.
I’m shopping in Macy’s with Simone. Well Simone’s shopping, and I’m just trailing around behind her.
She found out about my fight with Jake and ordered that we were going out this afternoon shopping.
Even though I wasn’t in the mood, and would have been quite happy to hide in my suite until I had to show my face at the show tonight, I could tell Simone meant business. I’d pretty much lost any fight I had in me earlier from my fight with Jake, so I yielded.
I’m still reeling from it to be honest.
He’s not going to let me go. He’s never going to give up on us.
Yeah, well good luck with that buddy, because the more you push the further I’m going to pull away.
I think.
I don’t know.
Crap.
Jake has this innate way of being able to pull and tie up my strings like no one before, and when I’m around him I just seem to lose all sense and focus. And maybe a teeny tiny part of me wants to go back. But a bigger part of me – the humiliated, betrayed part of me doesn’t.
And for now, humiliated Tru is in control.
Simone is loaded up with clothes she potentially wants to buy. I’m so far gone into my own wallowing I can’t even begin to appreciate the pretty things surrounding me.
“I’m going to try this stuff on. Keep me company?” Simone asks.
“Sure.” It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.
I follow Simone into the empty changing rooms and take a seat while she goes into the cubical to try clothes on.
“What do you think?” she asks, coming out of the cubicle in a beautiful, fuchsia pink Miss Sixty dress a few minutes later.
My pretty-dress-spidey-sense finally shows up, and I’m instantly in love.
It’s sleeveless, high belted; which is studded, has a low hem and a scoop neck, with a raw-edged detail across the chest.
“It’s gorgeous,” I murmur, wishing I’d been paying attention before now as I would have picked it up for myself. At least I know Simone will lend it to me if I want to wear it. Not that I feel like going out much nowadays.
“I’d team it with those patent blue heels you’ve got there.” I nod in the direction of the pretty high-heeled shoes sitting on the floor.
“You think?” She pushes her brows together. “I brought them in to try on with the black dress.”
“Trust me,” I say. “Put them on and you’ll see.”
Shrugging, she slips her feet into the insanely high heels and looks at herself in the mirror.
“Wow! You’re right,” she grins. “They do work together. Only problem is this outfit is on the wrong girl. No way could I pull this off, I’m too pale. This has you written all over it.”
“Nah, it suits you just right.”
“Try it on,” she encourages.
Even though I love the outfit, I’m just not in the mood to play dress up. I can’t get my mood past Jake.
“I’m not in the mood to try clothes on.” I start to chew on my thumbnail.
“So don’t try, just buy. We’re about the same size,” she says, assessing herself in the mirror again.
I snort. It’s not the most attractive sound.
“We are!” She sounds defensive.
“Yeah, except for that my ass is about ten times as big as yours is.”
“No it’s not.” She gives me a disapproving look. “I guarantee this dress will fit you, so I’m telling you that you are getting this dress and shoes if I have to pay for them myself. And you’re wearing them to the show tonight as well.”
“Like hell I am!” I say my head snapping up. “I’m going to the show in my jeans and a T-shirt, comfortable flight clothes. I’m catching my flight straight after remember?”
“You can change at the airport. You are going to that show looking your best, Tru.”
“I’m not going to party, I’m working.”
“And don’t people generally dress nice for work?”
“Trash collectors don’t.”