Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
People you don’t even know having strong feelings about you is a strange thing.
I don’t blame Molly for not letting me speak. The truth is, why we did what we did is probably pretty obvious. Nash is famous and he wanted to hide his identity and be normal for a while. That basically sums it up. Hopefully I can start apologizing to people soon. Make it up to Sabrina, Carmen, Isa, and Rose, in particular. Just as soon as I draft a speech and maybe buy some gifts.
I know mistletoe means kiss me. But which flower says sorry I was a dick?
Once we get home, Grandma disappears off to her weekly morning poker group. She doesn’t believe in giving any one time or space. I, however, am unsure if inflicting our fine selves on the town folk now is the right choice. Though there’s also the distinct chance I am just delaying the inevitable. Such as finding out my new friends don’t want anything more to do with me. Which is absolutely their right after the nonsense we pulled.
My mind is too distracted for work. So I pack my suitcase and assorted market bags and move houses. Brandon is the only boyfriend I lived with long term. The furniture I found and helped pay for got left behind when he kicked me out with no notice. And most of my books etcetera are still in the back of my broken-down car. So it’s not like I have a heap of stuff to be moved.
Nash is downstairs showing Charlie where he wants to set up the recording studio. He also wanted to play him some of the new songs he’s been working on. The ones he tells me I inspired, which is a wild notion. No idea if Nash is hoping to lure Charlie out of retirement to tour the new material. From what I’ve heard, it was him disappearing for months on end that ended him and Grandma last time.
I don’t know if I’d handle it any better. Having Nash put us on hold to go tour the world for a couple of years. Managing a long-distance relationship. Though maybe he would invite me along.
Meanwhile, Angus is asleep in Grandma’s spare room. Rockstars coming off tours sure need their rest. I don’t have any siblings. However, beating the crap out of each other and then carrying on with your day as if nothing happened seems odd. They should probably speak to Molly about doing some psychic counseling. It can’t hurt.
Hauling my suitcase up the stairs to his bedroom on my own feels strange. Like he might turn up at any moment and ask me what’s going on. As if I somehow misread him. But Nash wants me here. He has made it clear. Guess my delicate feelings are still bouncing back from being trounced on by my ex. Relationships can be so treacherous and it’s not like I chose well last time.
Which is when the mystery of where my dress from last night disappeared to is solved. There it is, hanging in his walk-in closet. Only he could have put it there. Which is a sign I think I needed to see.
The butterflies in my stomach are giving such indecision. But he wants me where I am. We’re really doing this. Whatever this is. And I have no idea what the ring on my finger means. One step at a time.
My cell in the pocket of my blue-plaid mini dress starts buzzing. Someone is calling (which is not what I use my phone for). Then texts and messages and other notifications slowly start filling the screen. From a friend of Brandon’s, a person I worked with, and a roommate from college. Also a cousin I haven’t talked to in forever and another ex from a few years back.
There’s a link to an article in one text and another has pictures attached. Photos of me and Nash walking back from the disaster of a town meeting, hand in hand. Creeper shots taken from a distance.
Just because we didn’t see the media, didn’t mean they weren’t around.
“Junebug?” Nash’s footsteps are heavy on the stairs. “Where are you, my sweet?”
“In the closet.”
He wanders in wearing his usual blue jeans, boots, and a tee. And while he first looks for me at head height, it doesn’t take him long to find me sitting on the ground with my back to the wall under hanging clothing. The small room is all shadows, with no window and the light turned off. However, his black eye and easy smile are plenty visible.
“You’re hiding,” he says, crouching down. “Why are you hiding?”
I wince. “The internet found out about me. People are having big feelings.”
“Fuck.” He pauses. “Are you okay?”
“Eh.”
“Actually came to warn you there’s a pap at the front gate.”