Page 38 of Rough Daddy
"I..." My voice breaks. "I need to think. This is all too much."
"Of course it is." His expression softens, and he cups my face in those massive rough palms. "Go pack one of your little suitcases. We'll figure this out together, princess. All of it."
I nod, grateful for something concrete to do. Something to focus on while my world tilts on its axis.
"Take your time," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I'll book us somewhere to stay tonight, then we’ll head back tomorrow morning. You okay?”
I push one of my practiced smiles onto my face, adding a nod. I’m playing for the camera again, only the camera this time is Beau’s eyes. "Yep. Okay."
But as I walk toward the guest cabin, my hands shake and my breath comes in short gasps. Pack a bag. Such a simple instruction. But my mind is spinning.
Who am I supposed to pack for? Tina Quincy, the woman who fell in love with a stranger? Or Tessa Quinn, the disgraced influencer whose whole life is a performance?
I push open the cabin door and stare at my Louis Vuitton luggage scattered across the floor. Expensive clothes my parents bought for photo shoots, others the designers sent for product placement. Shoes that cost more than most people's rent. The costume of a life I've been running from.
But then there's the t-shirt I'm wearing. Beau’s t-shirt. The way I felt in his garage, talking about engines and being valued for something real between my ears instead of the character I play. The woman who danced with him in the town square, who felt like she belonged somewhere for the first time in her life.
Which one is real?
My breathing gets faster, shallower. The walls of the cabin seem to be closing in.
Every moment I thought I was being authentic, being myself for the first time, he already knew exactly who Tessa Quinn was. Her scandals, her family, her breakdown. Did he fall in love with me or with the broken girl he could fix? Did he fall in love at all, or was it all an act to manipulate me?
And Ethan. God, Ethan. While I was playing Tina, he was suffering.
I can't breathe. The cabin is spinning. Nothing feels real anymore.
I need to get out. I need air. I need to get to the one person who's never known me as anyone but myself. Who's loved me without filters or performance or pretense.
I grab a piece of paper from the desk and write.
Beau,
I don't know who I am anymore. Tina? Tessa? Some made-up person caught between the two? Everything feels like a lie. You knew who I was, I lied to you, this whole perfect fantasy we've been living was a house of cards.
I need to get back to the one real thing in my life. Ethan needs me, and honestly, I think I need him more. He's theonly person who's known me without any masks, without any persona. Just me.
I'm sorry. I’m going, but I need to go alone.
T
I fold the note, scrawl Beau’s name on the front, and try to steady my breathing.
I grab the denim skirt from the first night we were together from the arm of the sofa where Beau set it after washing my clothes.
I tug it on, slipping on a pair of Gucci slides that are next to the door, and head outside. I’m ready to walk into town. There must be a bus. Or a car I can hire. Something.
Then I remember him putting the keys above the sun visor in his truck every time he got out.
Will he have me arrested for grand theft?
Don’t care. Ethan comes first.
He always will.
Thirteen
Beau
