Loving Dallas - Caisey Quinn Page 0,65

hang on to a week’s worth of meals to toss into the toilet.

Leaning against the side wall of the bathroom stall, I place a trembling hand to my forehead.

My head pounds and my throat is raw, but that’s not what’s concerning me the most. Jase’s words play over and over.

Then Dallas’s question at my apartment.

“Are you late?”

I kept telling myself it’s the stress. The traveling.

It isn’t the first time I’d skipped a period or two. But I’ve never felt like this before. Weak. Drained. Constantly nauseated and repulsed by smells that I barely even noticed before.

For a fleeting second, I wonder if maybe it’s something else. Cancer runs in my family on my mom’s side. Jesus Christ. If my brain is trying to reconcile this by reassuring me that it could be a fatal disease instead, I am even more screwed up than I thought.

Stepping out of the stall, I see one of the girls from Dallas’s estrogen-filled entourage heading into the stall beside me. I ignore her and turn on the sink in front of me. Rinsing my mouth and checking my hair for puke, I catch a glimpse of my ashen skin in the mirror.

My face looks gaunt, the skin beneath my eyes sallow and puffy.

If I get fired for blowing off my responsibilities at this party I have a promising career as a corpse on any crime show that will have me.

My purse is checked in the coatroom so I can’t really do anything about my horrifying appearance except splash some cold water on my face and dab at my smudged eye makeup with a paper towel.

“It reeks in here. Don’t you work here? Can’t you do something about that?”

Dallas’s groupie has joined me at the sink. Oh goody.

“Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

“Oh, and there are no more of the little blue shots. They’re so good. You might want to get on the waiters to send more of those around.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

She begins adding more black eyeliner to already overly lined eyes. I silently hope her hand slips and she stabs herself right in the retina.

I frown at my own reflection. First I cry all over Wade’s tragic turmoil, then I fantasize about gouging some random chick in the eye. I am so not this person.

Am I?

I have to get out of here.

After drying my hands briefly, I shove the door open.

“Hey.” Dallas stands there as if he’s waiting for someone.

“Hi.” I narrow my eyes because I don’t know if it’s me he’s out here for or the girl coming out behind me.

When she winks at him on her way by and he doesn’t so much as glance in her direction, I have my answer. But I can’t do this with him. Not here.

His button-up dress shirt is so dark blue it looks black and seeing him in perfectly tailored charcoal-colored dress pants is confusing. Dallas is flannel and denim for the most part. Hoodies and backward ball caps. Maybe I’m still confusing him with someone that I used to know instead of who he is now. Maybe I don’t know him at all anymore.

He takes a long pull from his beer bottle, the light glinting off his shiny black and silver watch, before stepping into my path. “Can we talk, please?”

I shake my head. “Pass. You need to get back to your groupies and I have to find my boss.”

“Hey.” His fingers are warm beneath my chin. “What’s going on? You look like hell.”

“Thanks. So much for chivalry, huh?” I jerk my chin out of his hand and turn away from his searching gaze. “Feel free to return to your non-hellish-looking fans now.”

“Wait a second. That’s not what I meant. Robyn?”

I can hear him and I can feel him close behind me in the crowd but I keep going, walking toward the coat-check room without acknowledging anyone as I weave through a sea of overly perfumed bodies. My stomach threatens to turn on me again and I decide to text Katie instead of trying to find her or Mr. Martin to let them know I’m not feeling well.

No one is manning the coatroom so I walk in and begin searching for my black leather jacket and matching bag.

The door clicks shut from across the room, where Dallas stands glaring at me.

“You want to tell me what that was about?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I return to shuffling through coats on the rack.

“Well, you were busy having a moment with Wade out