“But I still don’t think we should be together anymore.”
It was whiplash. Painful, cold, and life-ruining.
“Don’t say that, Julia. We can work this out. I know you’re scared, but the four of us… We’re stronger together.”
“I’m so sorry, Cash. Tell Red and Dylan I’m sorry, too.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up, Julia—”
The call ended.
I felt hollow. Dazed and confused. One second I was over the moon, and the next I was trying to crawl out of an endless pit.
I didn’t blame her, however. Not one bit.
The press was ripping her apart, destroying her reputation like a morsel of food in a vat full of piranhas. She lost her job. She was at risk of constantly being swarmed. I understood what she was doing was for the sake of self-preservation.
While I respected her decision, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.
There was a knock on the door. Dylan and Red returned, their dispositions gloomy.
“She broke up with us,” I grumbled.
“We heard,” Dylan said gravely.
Red said nothing at all.
When the doctor stepped in, none of us were particularly pleased to see him.
“Good news, Mr. Mitchell. I had a last-minute cancellation. I can squeeze you in for surgery first thing tomorrow morning. Does that work for you?”
Technically none of it worked for me, but I was out of options.
“Yes,” I answered through clenched teeth.