And after a few minutes, the only sound in the hotel room is her deeper breathing. I lie perfectly still for a long time, but my thoughts remain in constant motion, our argument replaying in my head. I need to stay out of her business. I know it’s best for our relationship, but I can’t ignore my need to protect her from sharks like Malcolm and guys like Dub. There has to be a balance. Maybe I’ll ask Dr. Ramirez next week in our one-on-one session the best way to find it.
Once I’m sure she’s not waking up, I carefully roll out of bed and close the bedroom door, making my way to the front of the suite. Earphones plugged into my phone, I prop my feet up on the coffee table and submerge myself into Schumann. Chopin’s unconventional, whimsical compositions always creatively unstick me because he erased so many existing lines and drew his own. Schumann is for soul searching. He was a man divided, who literally created two personalities for himself, the dreamer and the rebel, and would sign his compositions based on which of the two helmed that particular piece. “Davidsbündlert?nze” soothes one side of me and incites the other. One faction wants to protect Kai and intervene at every turn, and the other cautions me to give her space, to simply be there when she needs me. I’m still not sure if either side knows best as the song on repeat lulls me to sleep.
A firm knock on the door startles me awake. I gather my bearings, disoriented. I’m not under my piano, but I spent most of our one night on the couch. I’m cursing the waste when I peer through the peephole.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
According to my watch it’s barely eight o’clock, and Dub stands outside Kai’s hotel room. My hand is on the knob and turning before I think twice about it. Kai’s going to tell him about us anyway, right? She said it last night. Not to mention I can’t wait to see his face when I open this door.
This may not have been the right call, but it’s so worth it to see the shock, followed quickly by displeasure, his expression gives away.
“Gray.” His eyes narrow at the edges, his face pinching into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”
“You mean in Berlin?” I fight a smile, but it might come through just a little. Smugness is so classless, but I can’t help it. “Or in Kai’s room? I’m thinking neither is any of your business.”
Dub visibly stiffens, and I know if he could, he’d wrap those ham-sized hands around my throat.
“Look, I don’t mean to be an asshole about this . . .” I lean against the doorjamb.
“You don’t mean to? Oh, it just comes naturally, does it?” he asks. “So it’s a gift.”
Enough pleasantries. This son of a bitch kissed my girl yesterday and has the nerve to show up at her room first thing in the morning. Over-eager bastard. He needs to state his business and be on his way.
“What do you want, Dub?”
For a minute the look on his face is so exposed I have the answer to my question even though he doesn’t say a word. He wants my girl. Sorry. Shit outta luck, dude.
“I need to talk to Kai.”
“She’s still in bed.”
We watch one another for long seconds while the intimate implications of that statement sink in.
“I didn’t know you two were back together,” he finally says. “She never mentioned it.”
“Yeah, we wanted to avoid the media attention while she’s on tour.” I shrug. “Like I said, she’s still asleep, but I can give her a message for you.”
“I don’t need you to deliver messages for me.” He laughs, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I assume you’ll be leaving soon, and I’ll still be here with her. You hate that, don’t you?”
“What I hate is the fact that you want my girl.” If he wants gloves off, they can come off. “And you can’t seem to grasp the fact that it’ll never happen.”
“Maybe you hate the fact that she just may like me, too.” He leans forward, squeezing his thumb and index finger together. “Just the tiniest bit. Maybe just enough.”
“She’s your friend, yeah. No accounting for taste.” I turn my mouth down at the corners, outwardly calm, inwardly feral. “But if you think there’s more on her end, you’re mistaken.”
“Ya sure about that, are ya?” His Irish accent thickens and his smile grows wider. “Seems to me you have a habit of foockin’ up, and maybe all I have to do is be around at the right time. And maybe I will be, yeah?”
Before I can form words to even tear into this asshole, a sound behind me catches my attention, and I’m sure Dub’s too. Kai shuffles into the suite, rubbing her eyes groggily, my wife beater hanging off one shoulder, a perky, rose-tipped breast exposed, dark hair clinging to her arms and shoulders.
“Baby, was someone at the—”
“Kai, get back in the room!” I snap, shifting to block Dub’s view.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . . I . . .” Her eyes get wide when she catches a glimpse of her choreographer in the hall. She drags the strap up over her shoulder and turns to dash back into the bedroom, the door slamming behind her.
When I turn back to face Dub, his mouth is set, expression grim. Maybe seeing her drove home that I’m the only one who gets to see her that way, who has her that way, and he never will.