[Bad As Ever || Book 2]

6°

» "lord, please save her for me. Do this one favor for me..."

Miami, FL;

"Bryson won't talk to me. I keep having to meet with a million people about a million different things. The po—" she was cut off by Sierra, who was on the other end.

"How are you doing, Paris?" She asked, emphasizing that she was concerned with her friend's personal state.

"I'm fine, there's no reason to worry about me." She assured. Sierra sighed, knowing that was the most she was going to get out of the stubborn Paris.

"Well, just call me sometimes. At any time, ok? I don't care if it's 3 o'clock in the morning, if you want to talk or cry or whatever, call." She instructed with much seriousness in her tone.

"Thanks, Si. I really appreciate that. I'll talk to you later." Paris said. Sierra replied before they hung up the phone.

Paris fluffed her pillow and laid back on the bed. She unlocked her phone and scrolled through her photos of Brylee.

For months after her mother died, she would often think up scenarios in her head of would situations would be like if her mother were there.

She thought about her graduation and her court house wedding, which her mom wouldn't have been very happy with.

But she did know one thing was for sure, her mother would love Bryson.

Before her mom died, she and Bryson were just school friends, not nearly as close as they had grown to be after.

She knew her mother would have loved him because of his personality, character and the way he treated her.

Paris thought about Brylee in the same way. What would her words have been or how would she like kindergarten?

Paris knew for a fact that she would've been a daddy's girl. She would have loved Bryson because Bryson loved her with all of his heart.

Their hotel room door opened and she quickly wiped her face of tears that had escaped her eyes and sat up in bed.

Bryson quietly took off his jacket and sat on the edge of the bed. Paris moved from her spot on the bed and sat directly behind him.

"Where'd you go?" She asked softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. He shrugged and proceeded to take off his shoes.

"Just out for some fresh air."

"I was worried about you." Paris admitted sadly, holding onto him. He turned his head slightly to look at her.

"I'm good, Paris. I just needed to breathe a little, that's all." She nodded and kissed his cheek.

"Maybe you should make some music. That always eases your mind..." She suggested, giving him a warm smile.

"Ah damn, I have to call Kel—"

"I talked to Kelly. Don't worry about any of that. Just write some stuff down. Clear your mind, ya know?"

"I don't need to clear my mind." Bryson persisted, shaking his head.

"Well, you won't talk to me. I figured you'd at least put your feelings into your craft." She explained.

"So this is about you?" He asked, shrugging her off of him.

"No.... It's about me caring about my husband. I didn't think that was a bad thing, Bryson." She said, clearly hurt.

"Man, whatever." He got off of the bed and went into the bathroom. Paris, who was growing upset, went out of the room and sat inside the stairwell, since most everyone used the elevator.

"I'm soo fuckin' tired." Her voice cracked and she pressed both of her palms against her forehead.

It was breaking her heart that the love of her life was being so distant and so cold. She'd never seen this side of him and it was scaring him.

Even when he was mad, he didn't treat her like this. He was just passive, but now, he was being cold.

"I can't do this..." She cries softly to herself, putting her face in her hands.