Page 83 of Dirty Love

“Two needles?” I flip back to her records. “You get a single dose of B-12. That would just be one needle.”

She shakes her head. “Two, every time. Jab jab.”

My grip on her hip tightens. “I think we need to get some bloodwork done on you when we fly to Salt Lake City tomorrow.”

DIRTY LOVE

part five

dirty love

—thirty-nine—

Wilson

Salt Lake City

When Tabitha gets to The Complex, where her concert will be that night, the first thing she does is have a cast and crew meeting for everyone on her tour. She acknowledges the rumors and tells them that Grant has been arrested and won’t be around for the rest of the tour. She encourages everyone to reach out to an anonymous crisis support line if they want to talk about it, but asks them not to speak to the press because of the unexpected news about his estranged family connections.

The second thing she does is put up with a blood draw to humor me. We’ve hired a well-vetted OB/GYN who runs a fertility clinic here in the city, and he comes with a med lab tech in tow who takes her blood. The doc promises to return after the show, then disappears, and it’s almost back to normal.

Except this has never been my normal with her. I roam her dressing room as she gets ready. I’ve seen this how many times though the distorted lens of a security camera? The way her crew set it up the same everywhere. Cases stacked in exact order, everything labeled.

I glance at her in the mirror. Her eyes are closed and she’s running through new lyrics to a song. Same song, just revised again. It’s one of the ones they recorded last summer, the one she had a meltdown over.

Her hair stylist smooths one more strand of hair flat, then steps back. “You’re good to go, gorgeous.”

Tabitha blows her a kiss in the mirror, and then we’re alone.

She gives me a look in the mirror, and I move closer. “What is it?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I feel like everything has shifted. Like this isn’t real.”

Grant did this to her. He fucked with her reality in little but concrete ways. I hope he’s currently being gang-raped in a Nevada jail. “What do you want this to be?”

Her lips tighten. “I want this to still be real. I want this to not fall apart like a house of cards now.” She sucks in a shaky, deep breath. “Wow. I didn’t realize any of that. But yeah, very much…that.”

“Okay. I was going to ask how much you wanted me to unravel your new identity and weave it back into your old identity, but that answers that question.” I squeeze her shoulders.

She shakes her head. “This is me. This is the only name I’ve ever wanted, and maybe he got it for me, but he didn’tgiveit to me. I won’t imbue it with that power, or let him take it away from me.” She twists in her chair, so she’s facing me, then slowly climbs up onto it, kneeling.

She takes my breath away, she’s so fucking sexy. Every nerve ending under my skin jumps to life as she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a soft, sultry kiss. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“That’s what I’m here for.” I push into her mouth with my tongue, deepening the kiss. Fuck, I’m hungry for her. Now is not the time, but she makes me crazy. One slide of her tongue against mine and my brain is buzzing, blocking out reason and work and everything else, because she’s my woman and I want to take her.

When we ease apart, I’m hard and she’s blushing. She cups my erection through my jeans. “We’ll have to take care of this after the show. I do love fucking after a show. I’m going to love it with you even more so.”

I bite her, gently. “Good. No more doubts about who you are, okay?”

She shakes her head. “None.” She holds out her hand. “Tabitha Leyton. Nice to meet you.”

I take her fingers in mine and let her give me a firm handshake. “Wilson Carter. The pleasure is all mine.”

“What do you do, Wilson?”

“Crisis management. Out of Washington, D.C. How about yourself?”

She smiles, a brilliant, carefree beam. “I’m a singer. Currently on tour, actually. I need to be in Denver tomorrow.”

---