But part of me didn’t want her to know that because I was going to drag Della down with me, drowning her in the blanket of misery my mind led to even when I was happiest with her. It was inevitable. But us? Fuck. Weren’t we inevitable too? Wasn’t that what was building?
“Do me a favor,” I told him. “Get me a meeting with McAllister. One on one. Somewhere private. He and I have a lot to discuss.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” he doubted.
I stared at the list of names in front of me again before pulling out a carton of cigarettes from my desk and lighting one up between my lips. “Not at all. But I have nothing to lose.”
We both knew that was a lie though.
He watched me for a moment longer before turning to the door, one hand on the knob as he hesitantly said, “I’ll do it, but consider what it could mean for everyone else.”
Della came to mind as I absorbed the nicotine my lungs demanded. I’d told her countless times I’d quit—that I’d try. But I also told her I’d be there for her whenever she needed me.
I was a fucking liar.
Chapter Fifteen
Della
One, two, three, four, five, si—
“Crap,” I hissed, stumbling on my feet on the second turn. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I waited for the right note to drop before starting again. Without Tiffany, the stress wasn’t nearly as bad, but suddenly the determination to get it right was tenfold.
My mother always used to tell me I was too strong headed for my own good. “It’s your strongest trait and your biggest downfall, sweet Della.”
How many times did she tell me it was okay not to be perfect? I knew I wasn’t better than everyone, even if there were people in my life who thought I was. Lips twitching, I swiped at my skin and rested my hands on my hips while trying to catch my breath. For a microsecond, I’d been glad she wasn’t here to witness what I was putting myself through, but that feeling quickly diminished and was replaced with guilt, shame, and mourning.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Bending to grab my water, I startled when I saw a tall, broad figure at the doorway watching me. Theo.
“That was…” He leaned against the doorjamb with his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t seen you move like that before. I like it.”
It was hard to swallow knowing he saw me screw up. “I messed up.”
I was hyperaware of my bare stomach showcasing my hideous scar. The workout pants I wore were low on my hips, which meant it was out there for anybody to see if they barged in. I’d shed my shirt an hour ago and was left in a red sports bra and black leggings. I’d noticed muscles coming back into my legs that had disappeared after I called it quits, muscles that Judith called dancers legs. They were toned but petite until I’d filled out after my stress eating, turning into my own personal nightmare.
I’d been practicing at Tiffany’s when she was at Judith’s at least three times a week. More if I really needed to escape, whether that was at my apartment, here, or the warehouse, succumbing to the burn of my muscles and lungs as I pushed harder and harder. Today was the first time I’d watched myself in the mirror to study my footwork, and it was hard to see the hollow of my cheeks and the bags under my eyes, but they’d been expected with how many hours I’d put into getting the routine down while sleeping no more than three hours on my best nights. I knew I was going too far but I couldn’t stop because the fire building in my chest had spread everywhere and it took over all the other unwanted feelings of hatred and sadness long enough for me to feel like I was halfway normal.
“How did you find me?” I reached for the towel I’d draped on the barre in front of the mirrors and wiped off my face before squatting to pick up my shirt to slide on. He’d seen me in far less, but that didn’t mean I wanted him seeing me now. Not when I was vulnerable.
He pushed off the door. “Dallas.”
I frowned. Dallas had offered to drive me because it was raining today. Normally, I caught a ride with Tiffany or got an Uber that way