I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) (27 page)

Emmie enfolded Violet in her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“Where is he?” She couldn’t be held just then. She had to find him, talk to him. She’d destroyed him.

“Honey, I don’t know. I’ve texted him to let him know the good news. Did you hear? The record went gold.” Her excitement quickly dimmed when Violet couldn’t form a smile on her numb face. “But he hasn’t responded.” She pulled back, stroking the damp hair off Violet’s forehead.

Slater leaned into her. “You okay?”

“Am
I
okay?” She didn’t understand why there were being so nice to her. She’d rejected Derek in front of thousands of people. In front of cameras. No doubt if they went online, they’d be able to watch every second of his humiliation. He would
hate
that.

“I don’t know what he was thinking,” Slater said. “He knows you better than that.”

“His dad sabotaged him at Buck’s today.” Violet watched their expressions to see if they’d known that. They hadn’t. “He got there thinking the show was about him, but his dad showed up. He filmed
his
episode with his dad. And I didn’t go with him. I went to talk to a client instead. I wasn’t there for him. And now . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, until she felt Emmie’s hands on hers.

“This isn’t your fault,” Slater said. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“It’s not about blame. He thinks Buck’s show didn’t go well. You know what that means to him. In his mind, the whole world—
Irwin
—thinks he’s everything his dad has ever said about him. He went on that stage thinking all those terrible thoughts. And wondering about me, if I was taking the job in Japan. God.” She doubled over with the horror of it all. “Oh, God.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry.” Emmie rubbed her back.

“Where is he? I have to talk to him. He thinks I rejected him.”

She saw the look that passed between them, and it twisted the knife she’d lodged into her own gut. “I didn’t reject him.”

“I know that, sweetie.”

“Give him some time,” Slater said. “Let him get his head straight.”

“I don’t want him in his head right now. His head is telling him terrible things. I want him with me. Right now, before it’s too late. Before he talks himself out of us.”

“He won’t,” Emmie said. “He loves you. My God, he proposed to you.”

“He proposed to me so the publicity would cover the bad reviews he thinks he’ll get for
Artists Unplugged
. That’s what he does.”

Emmie shook her head. “He loves you, Violet. Yes, I see your point about publicity, but his proposal was sincere. I know my brother. You think he turns that intensity on everyone, that he’ll turn it on the next woman who comes along, but you’re wrong. He’s never cared about anyone the way he does you. He loves you.”

“And I just rejected him in front of thousands of people.” Her heart screamed in pain. “He thinks I don’t love him. I have to find him.”

“Let me call him.” Slater whipped out his phone.

“Maybe he’s at the hotel.” Violet dragged her hands down her dress as she waited for Slater’s call to go through.

After a few moments, he shook his head, pocketed his phone.

“I’m going to try the hotel.” Violet started off, but then stopped. “If you hear from him, will you ask him to call me? Tell him I . . . I have to talk to him.”

Violet raced across the lobby, only realizing when she pressed the button for the elevator that she didn’t know his room number. He’d checked in without her, of course.

Because she’d chosen to meet with Jason Becker’s people instead of supporting him at Buck’s. She would never forget his expression when he’d asked her how she could so easily choose a job over him.

A stupid
job
.

Yes, her farm meant everything to her. But he’d been right. She could’ve taken another job. She just . . . God, she didn’t make normal decisions.

The doors opened, but she just stood there, letting them close without her on board.

Oh, God. What had she done? If she could just get to him, be alone with him . . . she had to let him know she wasn’t rejecting
him
. But . . . a public proposal? It just . . . No. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t
them
.

She wasn’t rejecting him, just the proposal. Because he hadn’t meant it.

Frantic, Violet shot a text to Emmie, asking for his room number.

Her phone chimed. Caller ID said Emmie Valencia. Violet quickly answered, heading to a private corner in the lobby.

“Emmie? Have you heard from him?”

“No, I haven’t. But look, Violet, we love you, all of us do, and as much as I want to give you my brother’s room number, I just can’t. I hope you understand that I can’t get between the two of you. I’m here for you, and I’m here for him, but I can’t be the intermediary. I know how upset you are, and I’ll listen to you and be here for you, but I can’t take sides. Okay?”

Oh, God, this wasn’t happening. She had to get to him now. “Emmie, God, please. I hurt him. I have to talk to him. He has to know . . .” Her back hit the wall and she closed her eyes, her body aching. She couldn’t get his expression out of her mind. The phone slipped from her fingers.

“Violet? V? Are you there?” she heard Emmie call.

She scrambled to pick it up. “I’m . . . I’m here.”

“I’ll talk to him, I promise. I’ll tell him you’re sick over what happened.”

But she disconnected because she could no longer speak, no longer hear anything but her own sobs.

•   •   •

I
hate that I hurt you. I can’t stand it. I miss you. Please talk to me.

Violet hit Send, then set the phone back on her nightstand. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling through a veil of tears. Her stomach muscles hurt from crying so hard. Her swollen eyes needed relief, but she hated closing them. When she did, she saw Derek’s face the moment he realized she hadn’t accepted his proposal. Panic beat a frantic tattoo on her heart. Why wouldn’t he respond to her? Why wouldn’t he talk to her?

She wanted to tell him she loved him but not in a text. But should she let another moment pass without him knowing?

She grabbed her phone back.
Can we talk today? I’ll come to your hotel. I miss you. I can’t stand it.

Her door creaked open, and Mimi marched in. She plucked the phone out of Violet’s hand, set a cup of steaming tea on the nightstand, and handed her a pill.

“Sit up.” With a grip on her shoulder, she practically
hauled Violet to a sitting position, jammed a few pillows behind her, and dropped the pill in her hand.

Violet shook her head. She needed to keep her head clear in case he called or texted or came by. A jolt shot through her at the idea he might come out to the farm.

He loved her. He’d told her he loved her. His sister had said he’d never felt this way before.

“Enough.” Mimi sat on the edge of the mattress. “Enough crying, enough beating yourself up. The fucker blindsided you.” She wrapped an arm around her. “You did nothing wrong. Could you have been a ditzy groupie bitch and thrown yourself into his arms and said yes for the whole world to see? Yeah, but then he wouldn’t have loved
you
. Because that’s not you. The real you, the woman he loves? Said no to a lame-ass proposal in front of a zillion freaking fans.”

“Me sucks. Me is
horrible.
I hate me. Me is this flat, dead, boring person.” Tears welled and then poured down her cheeks as her body was once again overcome with racking sobs. “I hurt him. He said he loved me, Meems. And I didn’t say it back. I’m a snail. I’m a blob. I dress all these different parts, but I’m not really anyone. The real me is nothing.” She wasn’t educated, she hadn’t traveled—not on her own, and not to explore—she hadn’t really lived. She had so little to offer a vibrant, passionate man like Derek.

But he’d loved her, and she’d come alive in his arms.

Mimi turned, tucking Violet’s head against her chest. “No. No, no, no. He’s impulsive, and you’re cautious. Look, this guy comes out of nowhere. He knocks you down, sweeps you away, and then right when your future together is uncertain, he springs marriage on you. He’s a selfish prick because he did it to keep you.”

“He’s not selfish.”

“Bullshit. Did he know you were going to meet Jason?”

She nodded.

“Did he see Jason with you backstage?”

She nodded, the sickly feeling of a hard, cold truth snaking its way down her spine, making her want to retch. “Yes.”

“Then he thought you’d taken the job. And I’d bet my left tit he proposed so he could hang on to you.”

“He shouldn’t have had to feel he had to hang on to me.
I pulled away. Who does that? Who takes this amazing, beautiful gift and tosses it aside? Who does that?”

Mimi’s hands tightened, holding her closer. “Oh, Violet. You’re killing me here.”

“I have to talk to him.”

“Right now you have to sleep. Take this pill, drink this tea, and black out for a few hours, okay? I promise you this clusterfuck will be exactly how you left it when you wake up.”

With trembling fingers, she took the pill and reached for the tea. As she cupped the hot mug, breathed in the lavender steam, she watched Mimi snag her phone and start typing.

“What’re you doing?”

Mimi’s brow furrowed in concentration as she tapped away, chipped red polish on her fingernails.

“Meems, what’re you doing?” She tried to grab the phone, but Mimi whisked it out of reach and continued typing. “Are you writing him? No, don’t do that.” Hot tea splashed on her chest as she set her mug down and lunged for the phone. Only when Mimi hit Send did she toss the phone on Violet’s lap.

With shaking fingers, she opened it.

Listen, you fucking fucker, you have destroyed my girl. She’s crying her eyes out right now because you’re too much of a pussy to talk to her. You’re the asshole who thought it was a brilliant idea to spring a marriage proposal on her in front of a million strangers. Grow a pair and talk to her or you never deserved her in the first place.

Violet flung herself back onto the pillow. “Oh, my God, why did you do that?”

“What? Tell him the truth? Because it’s not just about him. It’s about you, too. And he’s not the man for you if he doesn’t get that.”

•   •   •

“I’ve
never seen her like this.”

At the sound of Mimi’s voice, Violet stopped, reaching for the banister. She wished Mimi hadn’t given her a
sleeping pill. It made her legs shaky, her mind fuzzy, and her mouth taste funny.

“You know what?” That was Francesca. “It’s the best thing in the world for her. Her whole life she’s been in survival mode, trying her best to hold everything together. She’s never been allowed to be a kid, throw a tantrum, have her heart broken. She’s just skimmed the surface of life.”

She breathed in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and imagined them drinking it on the covered porch. Her legs too weak to stand any longer, Violet sat on the top stair.

“That’s great and all, but I can’t stand to see her like this. I swear, I want to shove his balls in a nutcracker. Why isn’t he getting back to her?”

What was he doing? Was he celebrating? Had he already forgotten about her? Worse, was he partying with Gen, erasing Violet’s scent, her touch, her imprint on his life?

That would destroy her.

“He’s a scaly bastard, that’s what he is.”

“My darling, he thought he was losing her. He acted rashly.”

“You’re excusing his behavior? I want to squeeze his nuts till they pop for what he’s done to her. That’s not how you treat Violet. That girl will give you her blood, her last granola bar. She’ll give you—”

“But she won’t give her whole heart. And that’s what he wanted. Look at her history, sweetheart. Men fall madly in love with her. She’s beautiful, nurturing, smart . . . she’ll give you one hundred percent of her attention. She’ll find all the good in you and help you draw it out. She’ll give you the wildflowers and the sea . . . but she won’t give you her heart. And that’s what keeps them chasing her. She’s a beautiful, elusive woman. But for Derek? He
loves
her. Anyone can see it. He loves Violet with his whole heart. And I’m not sure a guy like that knows what to do when the woman can’t give it back.”

But that wasn’t fair. She didn’t have a whole heart to give. Whole hearts were nurtured, developed. Every hug, every stroke, every loving look a baby got forged a whole heart
.

She’d thought this time, with this man, what she had to give would be enough. It wasn’t.

Oh, God. Violet got up, rushed into her room. She started to throw off her smelly clothes when she caught a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror on the dresser. She drew back in horror. Her left eye was bright red.

“Francesca! Francesca!” Panic reached such a pitch inside her head she thought she was going mad.

Feet trampled up the stairs. Francesca and Mimi raced into her room. She stood there in a bra and black leggings, fingers on her cheek, under the damaged eye. Francesca put a hand over heart, features crumpling in sorrow. Mimi threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“My eye.”

“I see that, sweetheart,” Francesca said. “You burst a blood vessel, honey.”

“Fix it, please. You have to fix it.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

Mimi glanced over her shoulder. “Eye drops, Mom.”

“Of course. Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll take care of it. It’ll be all right.” Mimi rubbed circles on her back, but Violet needed to get ready.

“I need to shower.”

“Yes, you do.” Mimi pulled back. “Wait, why?”

“I’m going to the hotel. I’m going to see him.”

“We don’t know his room number.”

“I can get it from someone. A roadie maybe. I’ll get it. I have to see him.”

“Maybe we should wait until he gets back to you?”

She shook her head. She’d been about to do something, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Oh, right. Shower. She walked into the closet, stood there, staring blankly. Clothing. What should she wear?

“I’ll get the shower started, okay?” Mimi paused, watching her, and then left her alone.

Violet looked at the row of dresses and shirts, touching the silks, the satins, the expensive wools. All clothing she’d bought for jobs. Anything she’d bought for herself was inexpensive, utilitarian. Shorts, leggings, T-shirts. Things to wear while working in the fields or running into town on an errand.

She couldn’t wear a work outfit to see him. She couldn’t
wear a
costume
, for God’s sake. A cry escaped her throat, and she leaned back against the wall.

“Oh, God, V, what’s wrong? What happened?” Mimi stood there, shaking her hands. “Please tell me what happened.”

“I don’t even know who I am. I mean, what do I wear? If I’m not on the job, what do I wear? I can’t go to him in shorts and a T-shirt. I can’t . . . what do I look like? In his eyes?”

“You look like the most beautiful girl in the world,” Mimi said softly. “That’s what you look like to him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I saw the way he looked at you. And, I swear to God, if someone ever looked at me the way Derek Valencia looks at you, I could seriously die a happy woman.”

Agony wrenched through her entire body, and she fell to the hardwood floor.

“What did I say?” Mimi crouched in front of her. “Mom? Mom!” And then she leaned forward, scooping Violet into her arms. “What did I say? I don’t know what I said.”

The throbbing pain in her skull beat in time with the squeezing, pulsating hurt in her heart. “I lost him. I found the one person in the world who loves me, and I pushed him away. Oh, my God, what have I done?” Sobs wracked her overheated body. She thought she was going to die.

Francesca’s cool hands touched her face, lifting her, smoothing tears away with her fingers. “You didn’t lose him. What do you think, sweetheart? Love just evaporates like that?” Her friend got down on the floor, facing her, their knees bumping. “No, my sweet. I know you’re scared. I know you’re hurt. And it’s okay to feel all of it. You can let it all out. All of it.”

The way she emphasized
all
let Violet know her friend meant so much more than the loss of Derek.

Mimi got up, swung around to the row of horrible clothes. “I’ll find you something to wear. We’ll find just the thing, okay?”

And God, the look of concern on Mimi’s face as she flicked through the clothing on her rack. Violet could see nothing worked.

Because Violet Davis didn’t have a style. She didn’t even have a name. “I’m not even who I am.”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Francesca kept rubbing her fingers over Violet’s cheeks, softly, gently.

“I’m not really Violet.”

“I don’t know what that means, honey.”

“My birth certificate. I’m Baby Jane Doe. My mom was strung out when I was born. My grandma let me name myself. She had the prettiest violets all around her house, like a magical barrier keeping all the bad out. So I called myself Violet.” Her head hurt too much to stay upright. It was so heavy she thought she might topple over.

Francesca’s mouth trembled; tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t know that.”

“He doesn’t know that either. I didn’t tell him who I am. I need to tell him who I am. I need to tell him I love him.”

“Okay. Okay, let’s get you dressed.” Mimi pulled some dresses off the hangers. “You get in the shower, and I’ll have a few things for you to choose from, okay?”