Silence ensued for a few seconds.
"You heard right, Travis." She shook her head tiredly, not wanting to explain the situation all over again.
Dolce frowned, stopping dead in her tracks. That’s all you’re going to say? "Well? Can’t you at least show up?!"
The director sounded strained. "I’m stuck in England! What do you expect me to do?"
"Oh, I don’t know…fly here, perhaps?” She shot back angrily, her grip on the phone tightening.
"You think you’re all that, Dolce-"
That was it. “This. Is not about us.” She fumed. “This is about Julian, and he needs us. Now.”
Her voice remained steady and laced with fury while she leaned against the hospital wall and blinked back tears that threatened to fall.
Her ex-husband was left speechless at her sudden outburst. "…I…"
She didn’t want to give him another chance to explain, though. She’d had enough.
Before he could respond properly, she whispered fiercely, ”…Fine. Continue being a lousy father.”
"No, Dolce, wait-"
But no way was she going to wait.
The actress hung up and tossed her phone back into her handbag without hearing the rest of the sentence. Of all times to be in England…she pushed herself off the wall and straightened her back, sighing. Wasn’t she glad that this was an empty corridor; the paparazzi’d give her hell for even looking like this.
But her son was in the hospital. Couldn’t she just be a normal mother for once?
"Can’t I…?" She murmured to herself, running a hand through her long hair, biting her trembling lip.
Fuck you, Travis. Our son needs us, but for now…
She took a deep breath.
…it’s just me.
And she strode off, mask back in place, round the corner and back into the waiting room.