“Hi.” It’s all I say but it’s enough to make River’s head snap up, his eyes meeting mine.

“Hi,” he says back and his face is unreadable, but I swear I see guilt in his eyes.

The next series of events seems to play out in slow motion. Ellie swings her head around and her mane of silky black hair follows. She looks up and gives me a fake smile and a slight wave. She flutters her unnaturally long eyelashes and glares at me like I’m intruding. I can’t help but return the look. Then I avert my stare and look around. There’s a pizza box and a few beer bottles on the coffee table and I have to wonder how long she’s been here and how much they’ve had to drink. I feel my heart tear a little at the picture before me, but it rips my heart out when I see Stella, his guitar, propped against the couch on the other side of Ellie.

Water is dripping down from my wet hair and onto my face. I push the hair out of my eyes as she says, “Oh sorry, did I block you from getting in the garage? I never thought of it.”

I can’t help but sneer at her and say, “Of course you didn’t.” Afterward, I abruptly turn toward the bedroom and throw over my shoulder, “Sorry if I interrupted.” My head is spinning as I move to escape the large room that suddenly seems claustrophobic. I slam the bedroom door, kick off my shoes, and throw myself onto the bed. I know I wanted to come home and talk calmly to River, but now I’m just annoyed.

Staring out the window, I try to see the Hollywood sign, but the rain is falling so hard that I can barely make the letters out. I’m not a jealous person, or least I never have been, but there’s just something about that woman. I begin to wonder if I haven’t picked up on what’s clearly in front of my eyes. Have we been over and I just didn’t realize it? Is the bond I thought we shared not as strong as I envisioned?

Flashes of our fairy-tale romance swim before my eyes—our fun drive from Vegas to LA, our games, his crazy made-up rules, the fountain and our wishes, waking up with him every morning—him always asking if I can “wait a bit” for my coffee because he’s got better things in mind, sleeping on whichever side of the bed we happen to be on because being together is all that matters.

“What the hell, Dahlia!”

Without turning around I ask him, “Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that what you’re not telling me?”

“No!” he snaps and then I feel the bed dip as he moves across it. He hovers over me and his hand slides along the curves of my waist before resting on my hip. I shudder at his touch. With his lips near my ear he more calmly says, “Why would you even think that?”

I turn around to face him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together. Then I come home and she’s here again.”

He shakes his head, “She’s here working.”

“I’m afraid she’s here just waiting to pick up our pieces.”

“There are no pieces. We’ll never be in pieces.”

I whisper, “But I see the way she looks at you.”

His eyes meet mine and he whispers back, “I don’t care how she looks at me. You’re the only one I see.”

I know I shouldn’t say this, but I have to, I have to know. “It didn’t look like that tonight. What was she doing here? Did you play for her?” I can’t bear the thought of him playing his guitar for her. When he plays for me, he bares his soul, and it feels like the most intimate moment two people can share without touching one another.

“Dahlia, I didn’t play for her.” But as he says this, his body stiffens and he throws himself back on the bed.

My heart lodges in my throat. “What’s wrong? I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

He sighs then announces, “I quit,” before throwing his arm over his forehead.

“What? Just like that!” I scream, bolting upright and looking at him in complete shock. I know we are having some issues but I never thought he’d just end us like that. “Without even trying to work this out, you’re just going to throw us away?”

He sits up and forcefully pulls me to him. “Fuck, Dahlia. No. Not us. I could never quit us, not ever. You’re a part of who I am. I was talking about the tour. I’m done with it. I quit the band.” He lets go of his hold on me and runs his hands through his hair.

I’m not entirely surprised, but I am a bit thrown. “Are you sure about this, River? You’re weeks away from the tour. What did Xander and the other guys say?”

He throws himself back on the bed. “Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t told them yet. I wanted to see what would happen to the guys first. Make sure my quitting doesn’t have a financial impact on them. That’s why Ellie was here, she was pointing out the penalties for breach of contract.”

I want to say I bet she was, but I know this is not the time for jealously. Right now he needs me. I lean down next to him and stroke his cheek with my thumb. “River, why are you doing this now?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds. “I just can’t do it. I never wanted it to begin with and now with everything else going on, my heart just isn’t in it.”

“River, you cannot quit because of us.”

“That’s just it, Dahlia. It’s not because of you or us; it’s because of me. You know I never wanted this. It won’t be good for me and it won’t be good for the band if I go through with it.”

He pulls me closer and our mouths collide. His tongue lightly probes mine, and I realize I have missed his lips. I have missed him. He pulls me on top of him and his hands slide down to my backside, pushing me into him. I get caught up in the moment, and then suddenly remember we still need to talk about yesterday.

I murmur against his lips. “River, we need to talk.”

He breathes back, “I need you right now.”

“I need you, too, but I meant what I said yesterday—we can’t keep trying to solve our issues with sex.”

Pulling back, he looks at me. I move to sit beside him and he sits up, too. Sighing, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I know we do, beautiful.”

All I want to do is grab handfuls of his messy hair and pull him back to me. When I look into his eyes, I see the same look I saw when I walked in the door: guilt.

“River, we have so much we need to talk about.”

He nods his head and looks resigned to the discussion. I notice his hands start to twitch when he says, “Dahlia, there are just some things that are harder to talk about than others.”

“I know. But we need to have these difficult discussions.”

“You have to know, I just never wanted to have to say anything that might hurt you . . .”

When the house phone rings, I jump. I reach to answer it, but he stops me. “Let it ring.”

“It might be about Trent,” I tell him and grab the receiver. “Hello,” I answer.

“Let me talk to River,” Xander demands.

I cover the receiver and mouth, “It’s Xander, and he wants to talk to you.”

He exhales a heavy breath and takes the receiver. “What?” He’s quiet for a few seconds and then frowns. “I don’t want to talk about it now.” Then he turns the phone off and tosses it to the floor. “What’s going on with Trent?”

“He called me crying this morning. He sounded scared and alone. He said he needed me to come get him in Newport. I tried to wake you up to tell you.”

He studies me. “You lost me. What was he doing in Newport and why did you have to go get him?”

“River, he’s an addict.”

“How do you know that?”

I know he’s not going to like this. “When I got to Newport, Ben was already there. He needed help to take Trent back to the house.”

His mouth sets in a firm line and his eyes narrow. “What house, Dahlia?”

“My house in Laguna.”

“Are you f**king kidding me?” he says as he stands up. “You spent the day with him and you’re worried about what Ellie was doing here?”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

He heads for the door and just before he leaves the room he says, “You got that right!”

I follow him out into the living room. “River, we need to talk about this reasonably.”

River’s eyes snap to me. “Whose clothes are you wearing?”

There’s a hard knock and the front door swings open. Xander stands there scowling.

River ignores him. Pain contorts his features. “I asked whose clothes you’re wearing?”

“It was raining and I was wet so I had to change.”

Xander isn’t going to be ignored. He walks right over to River and says, “I want to talk to you now!”

“Fuck off, Xander.” River’s voice is low and filled with fury. I don’t think he’s even trying to control himself as his hands clench into fists.

I flinch when Xander grabs River by the shirt and gets right in his face. “Listen to me. I said I want to talk to you and it isn’t a choice,” he seethes.

River shoves him away and looks back at me. “You’re wearing his clothes! Did you let him f**k you?”

“Hey bro, calm down,” Xander says.

I gasp in shock that he would say something like that. My voice breaks but I manage, “River, no, of course not. You know there’s nothing going on between Ben and me. Let’s just sit down and talk about this.” I tell him this suppressing my own temper—trying to remain calm and pretending Xander isn’t really here listening to all of this.

His voice sounds rough, broken even. He shakes his head just once. “I don’t want to f**king deal with all this shit anymore!” Suddenly, his expression grows dark, almost dangerous. Then before I know what’s happening, he kicks the glass table from underneath, the papers that were sitting on it scatter in the air and the tabletop itself flips over and shatters. The sound is piercing. Without looking at me he storms out the kitchen door and stomps down the stairs. I can hear his engine rev and then his tires squeal.

From the front door I watch as he takes off. I call after him, but he can’t hear me. I just stand there frozen. I shiver and I know it’s not because of the chill in the air or lingering rain.

In the next moment Xander is standing behind me.

“Muse! Did you hear me?” he says in an incredulous tone.

I turn around and his eyes snap to mine. “What the f**k is going on?” he demands.

All I can do is shake my head. There is so much going on, I’m not even sure what he wants to know.

“He’s smashing shit and running out. He’s not acting like himself. Why?”

I swallow. “He’s mad.”

He takes a step forward, curling his lip into a sneer. “Ellie just called and told me he quit. How is it I didn’t even f**king know he quit? Is it because of you?”

I lean back against the open door and try to open my mouth to speak but the words won’t come out.

His jaw clenches and his fury seems to overcome him. He slams his fist against the wall. “You have nothing to say. He doesn’t answer his phone. He won’t talk to me. And you two are going at it . . . again. You’re the reason he quit. Aren’t you?”

“No. No, I’m not the reason. He just doesn’t . . .”

He cuts me off. “Fuck it! I’m done.”

With a disgusted look he brushes by me and walks out.

“Xander, let me explain,” I call out but he just ignores me.

I watch him leave as well, then turn and close the door.

A memory suddenly flashes before my eyes—the first time I saw River’s gorgeous silhouette across the bar, his intense gaze, our instant connection. Is it gone?